nathaniel, neil, nathaniel, neil. andrew flips the two names around in his head like tossing a coin. heads or tails, the coin always comes up abram. nathaniel and neil are two sides of the same coin; forged in a dark basement, in musty hotel rooms, on the exy court. both hate sweets, love to run, to talk back any chance they get.
some days, the coin lands on nathaniel. jack makes one too many comments at practice and neil - no, nathaniel - has him on the ground, raquet to his neck in an instant. he can't hear what the strikers are saying but through the grate of the helment, andrew sees nathaniel's smile.
others, it lands on neil. andrew finds neil and matt splayed out on the couch, three movies deep into a "pop culture lesson". neil motions for andrew to sit and absently cards his fingers through the blond's hair. matt hides his grin in his sleeve.
but abram; he runs to andrew after each winning game to tap sticks, he sits each friday in columbia, talking about escape routes for an alien invasion, he keeps ice cream in the freezer and cigarettes in his backpocket.
heads or tails, doe or minyard, doe or minyard.
doe was made and unmade in california. 13 homes, 13 film reels constantly playing in the back of his mind, each scene driving the cuts deeper and deeper. andrew doe learns the danger of wanting and vows to keep everyone out.
minyard went to juvie for his brother. he crashed the car to keep him safe. he spent years on medication that sent him up up up to protect his cousin. minyard guards himself with knives sharper than his glare; he protects those that are his and fuck anyone else.
heads or tails, the coin starts to come up drew.
it starts small; quick grins in columbia at neil; shared dinners with aaron that don't end in a fight; something like excitment in his stomach before an exy game. when neil is hanging out with the upperclassman, he stays.
summary: two people that don't like being vulnerable try and communicate. it takes a lot, but they're trying. inspired by a prompt i found "You look at them like they hung the stars." A silence. "They did so much then that, and I can't ever be grateful enough, even if I wished to."
word count: 2.8k
disclamers: bit of arguing. yearning!! emotional hurt/comfort!! mention of previous abduction/torture. use of y/n. a kiss.
It’s her smile.
You think.
Well, actually, it’s her rich laughter that draws your attention first. It makes you pause involuntarily, caught up in the sight of her, mesmerised by her tipped back head, raven curls flowing down her shoulders, as her deep brown eyes, as dark as your coffee before milk, sparkle brightly. And then, of course, it’s her smile that your gaze lingers on, bright and all-consuming. Yeah.
There’s something about her smile. It makes you wish you were a poet. It needs to be appreciated in a way that only art can capture. Leaving you breathless and yearning for something you should be at peace with not having by now.
You rub your tired eyes as you take a seat on Rossi’s staircase, ready to lace up your boots and desperately trying to smother a yawn. Your stomach was full and your body warm. Tonight had been a welcome reprieve after one hell of a week. You can smell the smoke from the log burner Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch were enthusiastically setting up outside (JJ had already teased them for acting like boy scouts), and you just needed to push through another drink to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at their new toy and then you could make your escape. Your bed was calling your name and as much as you loved everyone, the case this week had been exhausting and Emily was making your head spin. You needed to go home and be alone.
“You’ve been very quiet tonight.” JJ interrupts, pulling your attention from your boot. Her eyes alight with curiosity, and completely invalidating her attempt to appear casual.
You look away with a sigh and retie the knot you’d been focusing on. “It’s been a long week.”
She hums in agreement, and you hope that is where she’ll leave it as you turn your focus to your other boot and tie a tight bow. When you lift your head, she hasn’t moved but her attention has been captured by Penelope and Emily chatting in the other room. Your shoulders relax without your knowledge, a soft smile tugging on your lips, an instant reaction to having her in your eyeline. You don’t know what was wrong with you tonight, why this ache in your chest was so prominent. Maybe it was being in this environment with your family, the warmth and familiarity. Or just the fact Emily looked like she was glowing, her smile large and infectious. But fuck the feelings you had tightly packed into a neat little box were not cooperating and if you didn’t get ahold of yourself you were gonna give it all away.
You’re so entranced you fail to notice when JJ returns her gaze back to you.
Until she speaks.
“You look at her like she hung the stars.” She observes.
Your chest seizes, emotions clawing at your throat as your eyes fall closed. You release a shaky sigh and lift your gaze to meet JJ’s before tearing your eyes away again, unable to handle the care you see reflected in them.
Penelope pulls Emily into a hug, a squeal leaving her lips. It's been years, and still shock dusts the raven-haired womans features. Always a slight delay before she allows herself to sink into the other person. Her eyes closing, cradling their back gently, undoubtedly savouring the sensation of having her friend close.
You remember every time Emily’s arms have held you up. Every time her reassurance and kind words have reminded you that you belong in this job. Your fingers brush against the old ligature marks on your wrists, the damage has long since faded, healed flesh taking its place, but the memories remain. It was her eyes that you saw when you wanted to stop fighting, to give up, and one day hallucinations had made way for the real things. Those deep coffee brown eyes in front of you and ready to rescue you from hell. Her hands cutting you free, her hand holding you as you were loaded onto a gurney and taken to the hospital. Her, her, her.
“She did so much more than that.” You confess, voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t ever be grateful enough, even if I wanted to.”
“Y/N–” JJ shakes her head, speechless.
You smile at her tiredly and shrug. “It’s okay.”
JJ’s frown somehow deepens, “You should tell her.”
“Come on, we both know she’s not ready for that.”
She shrugs, “I think she might surprise you.”
You shake your head, deeply in denial even as your chest beats with something that feels dangerously close to hope. You push yourself off the stairs and grab your coat from the closet, the urge to flee overwhelming. Memories of your capture resurfacing and Emily’s kind eyes hovering in sight, all just too much to bear. “I’m going to get going. I’m tired anyway.”
“Y/N–” She protests.
“Tell Rossi I say thank you for everything. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.” You manage a flimsy smile and quickly back away, ignoring her second call of your name as you make your way out of the mansion and firmly close the door behind you.
The cold air hits you like a brick; filling your lungs and sending a shiver through your body. Spring was approaching, but the cold air was yet to break, and damn was it making itself known. You push through the attack on your body and continue rapidly down the steps, determined to get to your car and leave tonight behind you.
When your car was finally in sight – and you were gonna have words with past you for parking so goddamn far away. – you hear hurried footsteps and another call of your name, “Y/N!”
You do not stop and do not turn around. Emily’s voice is immediately identifiable and you don’t want to talk to her. You don’t want to do anything but leave.
“Y/N! Hey!” She calls again, the sound of her footsteps drawing closer. It’s no use. You can’t outrun her, you’ve never been able to.
Your car is just in front of you. Freedom at your cold fingertips.
Emily’s hand brushes your arm, bringing you to a halt as your shoulders sag. Eyes shutting. “Hey,” She murmurs to your back. Her voice gentle, always so kind when she’s with you.
Sometimes you worry she still sees you as a victim. It’s been five months since the abduction, three months since you were given the clear to return to work, and yet, she was still so gentle with you. She must know you wouldn't break if pushed too hard, right? You’re terrified of the answer.
“What happened?” She asks softly, “You just ran out of there.”
You turn around to face her, arms wrapped against your chest to protect yourself from the biting air. You sink back against your car to give yourself some space, hoping the solidity of the car will provide you with some form of support. Emily's flushed cheeks and deep breaths make you wince. Her jacket is thrown on haphazardly, wind flowing through the unzipped leather. You’re half surprised to find her shoes on the correct feet.
You sigh and step forward, so much for space. Your fingers pull her jacket tighter against her body, so you can easily thread the zipper closure together.
“You’re gonna freeze.” You grumble.
Her eyes trace your features, probing for information. You ignore her and focus on your task, battling with the zip when it protests, your brows furrowing and your lip stuck between your teeth as you concentrate. She’s silent the entire time, not using your momentary distraction to question you, which you’re grateful for. You glance up, breath catching in your lungs when you find deep brown eyes watching you closely.
You swallow and force your gaze back to the zipper, hands shaking slightly, which you hope she’ll attribute to the cold and not because her attention is making you flustered. With one final jiggle the zip detaches from the fabric and you manage to glide it up successfully. You release a satisfied sigh, stroking the zip flat before you step back. Emily’s eyes are already on your face when you lift your head, endlessly deep and caring, and causing an insecure laugh to bubble out of your throat.
“What?” You croak, hoarsely.
“Thank you.” She responds sincerely, brows furrowing just slightly. Like you’re a puzzle she’s still trying to understand.
You wave your hand, tilting on your feet as your gaze skates away momentarily. “It’s cold.” You say. Which is as much of an explanation as it isn’t.
She nods, her tongue running over her lip as she tilts her head. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Em,” You groan, shaking your head.
“You’ve barely said a word tonight.” She shakes her head, the furrow of her brows deepening. “Something is up. Are the nightmares back?”
“No–Well yes– but that’s not it.” You stare at the woman watching you with caring, gentle, non-judgemental eyes, ready to help in any way she possibly could and you feel the overwhelming urge to stomp your feet and run away.
“I’m not a victim!” You choke, emotions bubbling up your throat. “Please stop, please–” You shake your hands, “I need you of all people to not see me like one.”
She rears back, her eyes widening, her mouth falling open as unshed tears block your vision and words pour from your mouth.
“I will never be able to express how deeply grateful I am for you. For everything you’ve done for me. And nothing I ever do will ever be enough to repay you. I owe you everything, Emily. But I can feel the way you’re watching me. I can feel your gentle kid gloves just waiting for me to break and I need you to understand that isn’t going to happen. I’m okay. I’m healing. I don’t want you to think–” You voice cracks, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.
You wipe away your tears with cold fingers. The only noises in the air being the low whistle of the wind and your sniffles. The silence eats at you as you keep your gaze to the ground and continuously wipe away tears, too scared to see the mess you’d made.
“I don’t see you as a victim.” She croaks. “I just didn’t want you to go through this alone.”
You look up at her through tear-stained lashes and your heart shatters at the sight of her lowered head and tense body.
“You’re just always so gentle with me.” You respond lost and confused.
She lifts her head, meeting your gaze for a second before looking away and releasing a wet laugh, pained and broken. The sound is like a dagger to your chest.
“If I’d known you just thought this all was some quid-pro-quo, some debt you thought you had to pay off–” She shakes her head, stepping back.
Your stomach twists.
“It was never supposed to be that. I thought you...” She trails off, blinking away tears that barely have the chance to appear as her downturned lips and furrowed brow become more prominent.
Her head tilts, lips tightening inwards. “So every kind thing you’ve done for me over the last few months? What? That’s just been your attempt at alleviating your own guilt?”
Your eyes widen in horror, “No, wait, that’s not what I meant. It was never that–”
Emily continues on with narrowed eyes, ignoring your protest, “I was treating you how I thought you deserved to be treated. It wasn’t gentle-kid gloves. If I thought you were going to break I’d tell you, I’d tell Hotch. I wouldn’t stand-by why you put yourself and everyone else in danger.” She shakes her head, a frustrated huff leaving her mouth as her eyes fix on a point above your head.
“I was gentle with you because you’re an easy person to be gentle with when you’re not making me mad.” She chokes, a wave of emotions clogging her throat, tears you wished she’d trust you with again blinked away as the fight leaves her body.
Your eyes burn in your attempt to hold back your own emotions. Breath stuck in your chest. “Emily, I promise you it was never that. Fuck, its just…”
Your internal war with yourself spills outwards; hands shaking and half gasping breaths escaping your mouth as your lungs protest.
“You saved my life, Emily. Like found me in hell, rescued me from a monster, and then continued to turn up everyday to make sure I didn’t sink into the dark, kind of saved my life. I could’ve drowned. I-I wanted to. But you were always there fighting for me when I didn’t have the energy to fight for myself.”
Tears fill your eyes again, emotions choking you up. “And you’re right, it’s not a debt. But how am I meant to thank you enough for that? You mean so much to me.”
You look away, blinking back tears, words and emotions clogging in your throat. “More than I should express.”
You shake your head and release a wobbly breath. “And I’ve gone about all of this the wrong way, and I’m sorry about that. Can we just forget tonight even happened? I think I’m just exhausted. It’s been a long week.” You beg, frantic to fix the mess you’d made and get back to before.
She sighs into the cold night air and steps forward, “Come here.” She murmurs, gently grasping your arm and pulling you towards her.
You stumble forwards into warm arms that wrap around your body holding you close as a new wave of tears threaten to make themselves known.
It's easy to bury your head into her neck, to fist your hands into her back, to grip onto this woman you didn’t know what you’d do without. You inhale, allowing the comforting scent of her perfume to fill your senses and calm your system.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, words muffled by her neck.
“It was never because I saw you as a victim,” She says gently, voice vibrating through your body, and despite everything, making your lips tilt up slightly. “There were no kid gloves. I was just doing my best to treat you how you deserve.”
You pull back slowly so you can lift your head, her arms dropping so they settle on your waist. Her gaze is stuck in the distance, jaw locked. You tenderly reach up to cup her jaw and her eyes fall closed at her contact, but you push forward, even as you hold your breath, gently running your thumb over tight soft skin. When she doesn’t protest or try to push you away, you slowly guide her face back to yours, continuing to stroke the skin and smiling slightly when she sinks into the contact.
“Emily, open your eyes.”
Hesitant brown eyes flutter open, and you smile. Hope swarming in your chest again, this time not attached to denial and dread.
“You are incredible.”
She blinks, vulnerable.
“And wonderful and smart and kind.”
She attempts a smirk, defensive and flimsy, “You’re feeding my ego, be car-“
You place your finger over her lip, silencing her. Her eyes widen in surprise, her hands still sitting heavily on your waist, grounding you, a needed comfort. “Don’t joke. I’m serious. I’m so sorry for hurting you, Emily.” You sigh, deeply looking into her beautiful dark eyes. “You really have no idea how astonishing you are, do you?”
Her lip falters under your finger, her eyes welling up slightly as a frustrated sigh leaves her mouth. “Fuck.”
You pull your finger away, tracking her expression closely. Vulnerable eyes fighting some sort of battle, heaving breath, and pink cheeks. “Emi-”
Soft pillowy lips tenderly caress yours. And your body reacts instantly. Buzzing and stumbling forward into her as if pulled by a magnet. You don’t falter, sinking into her rhythm before she can pull away. Joy bubbles up in your chest, a smile you can’t contain spreading onto your lips as you kiss her back softly and thread your fingers through her hair.
She pulls back just enough to catch your eye, a light laughter rippling from her chest. Happy, free.
She places a kiss against your forehead and releases a relieved sigh. You can only hum in agreement.
You both stand there for a long moment, wrapped in each other, protecting one another from the cold night air. For a moment, you no longer feel alone. Your lips still tingling from her kiss, a smile you can’t contain all over your face, and warm arms wrapped around you, filling your soul with a true sense of safety. You didn’t need anymore words, not right now. Not while time stands still and it’s just her and you.
You were silly to put it down to her smile. It wasn’t the smile that was all-consuming, or maybe it was, but it was also just her. Plain and simple. Her. You didn’t need to dissect the parts of her because simply being in her presence left you feeling both breathless and safe.
Synopsis: Reader and Daryl have been together for a long time, but have never been able to have sex. 3.8k words
minors dni/18+
Warnings: smut, fluff. So much praise! Oral f!receiving. Protected sex (kinda? they use a condom but it's expired bc duh). Daryl cums fast. I've never written smut before, I've never published anything either so go easy on me. Probably OOC Daryl. Not great writing, sorry.
“It’s quiet,” Daryl starts from his position on the couch, one of his legs propped up on the coffee table.
“Yeah, it’s a little unsettling. Even back in the prison there was always growling, or Beth singing, or Carol snoring all night,” you joke lightly mimicking her snores. You plopped down on the couch next to him and leaned into him, making him put an arm around your shoulders. “It feels safe though, yeah? Safest I've felt since the outbreak at least,” you wonder out loud, trying to gauge his feelings of your new home.
“Yeah, I guess,” he pauses. “Just feels like I'm waiting for the shoe, y'know.”
“The other shoe?” You ask, laying your hand on his knee, glancing up at him.
“Mhm, waitin’ for the shoe to drop.”
You hum in understanding. “I think. . .” you trailed off thinking of your next words carefully, “I think, there’s no use in just sittin around and waiting. Maybe we should enjoy what we have, while we have it.”
He sat up and turns to look at you like you were crazy. “And what? What about when these picket fence bastards decide we’re not good enough, we don’t contribute enough, or whatever the hell other reason they decide is fit enough to throw us to the wolves? We just let them blindside us?” he seemed incredulous.
“No, honey, of course not. I’m just saying,” you take a deep breath trying to make sure you are clear. “This is maybe our last chance, our only chance, to live a life without running from the dead every damn day. We got used to that, it was, or maybe it still is, our new normal, but this can be too.”
“I understand, sweetheart, I'm just. . .” he trails off.
“Nervous? On edge?” you finish for him after a moment.
“You could say that,” he answers, picking up a cup of water off the coffee table, taking a sip, and sitting it back down, then leaning back onto the couch and throwing an arm over your shoulder again.
“I know. You run for your life, hunker down in empty houses, broke down cars, and caves for lord knows how long. Next thing you know, someone offers you not only a home, but a house? To ourselves? And food, water, walls and defenses, plus people patrolling 24/7? It’s a big change, but this is the safest we’ve been for a while. I just think we should enjoy it while we can. We can stay on edge, sleep with a gun under our pillow or whatever, but we should enjoy what we have while we have it. We can live here for a while, when shit hits the fan we can run, like we always have.”
“Yeah, I reckon you’re right, y/n,” he admits, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Kinda boring though, innit? This whole ‘american dream’ life.”
You glanced at him and saw a small smile. “Boring?” you giggle, “I can think of something to entertain us.” You slide your hand from your lap over to his, putting your hand back on his knee and sliding it half way up his thigh.
“Yeah? What’s that sweetheart?” He questions innocently, but you can see the way his cheeks are redder than earlier, and you can see the way he looks at your lips.
You jumped up and offered him your hand with a wink, “Come with me and I'll show you.”
“Don’ need to ask me twice,” he jumped to his feet, grabbing your hand and letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom. You open the door with your spare hand and spin around pulling at his shirt and winking at him.
“Oh I get it, you just want to see me naked, don’ ya?” Daryl teased, pulling his t-shirt off.
“You know I do, baby,” you flirted, grabbing his naked waist and pulling him closer for a moment, before pushing him away and leaning over to start the water, Daryl taking the opportunity to smack your ass. You giggle and turn around with your finger pointed, ready to scold him jokingly, but he grabs your hips before you can. He yanks you into his chest and kisses you hard, trying to slip his tongue into your mouth.
“At least let me get in the shower first, you horny bastard!” You laugh at him and pull away, yanking your shirt over your head and pulling your pants down and off. You feel the water to test its temperature and upon deciding it warm enough, you turn around to see him still in his pants. You reach towards his belt and pull on it, “You joining? Or are you gonna stand there and watch?”
“I’m happy to watch but I’d much rather join,” he responds, watching you step into the warm water. He tugs his belt undone and his pants down while you turn and let the water run over you.
Truth is, you were a little nervous, you knew what you were initiating. Sure you’d spent most of the apocalypse together, started ‘dating’ not long after arriving at the prison. Though you’d never officially talked labels, it’s been long assumed, by you and the rest of the group, that you were together. So, you’ve been ‘together’ a long time, but despite that you’d never really gone farther than oral or handjobs. If you’d had the time, then you hadn’t had the solitude. If you’d had the solitude, then you hadn’t had the safety. If you’d had the safety, then you hadn’t had the time. It had worked out fine, in the midst of the end of the world, sexual frustration wasn’t your biggest concern, you’d go as far as to say it wasn’t even in the top 15. This was your third night alone in Alexandria, your group had all slept in the same house for a while before gradually settling into your own.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this, huh?” you question, rubbing soap all over your body. You feel his arms wrap around you and pull your back to his chest, you lean your head back to rest on his shoulder.
“You’re sexier every time,” he whispers, nipping at your ear. His hands grab the fat of your hips and grip it to pull you even closer.
“Really? You don’t think I looked better when we were covered in walker guts and months of filth?” You tease him, pushing away and signaling for him to turn his back to you, and begin to clean his back with a soapy towel.
“You get prettier every day, Y/N, with or without running water,” he hums out, enjoying the soft scratch of the washcloth on his body. It had taken him a long time to get comfortable being this vulnerable, but years of relying on each other has built a trust unlike any other in his life. He trusts you fully, to see him wholly and unfiltered, who he truly was inside and out.
Once you both had been scrubbed you wrap your arms around his neck and push him against the wall. You brush your lips over his, testing the waters first. He grabs your face and spins you around, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You moan into his mouth and pull him closer. His arms wind around your waist when his tongue slips into your mouth, your grasp the hair at the base of his neck tightly in your fingers when you feel his leg slot between yours.
You grind down on his leg and gasp, throwing your head back against the wall. He takes the opportunity to kiss your jaw, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking little marks on your collar bones. You feel his hand slide from your waist up your torso to grab at your breast and your hands grab at the strong muscles of his back. He kneads your soft breast before rubbing your nipple with his thumb, he places sloppy kisses on the junction of your neck and down your shoulder. You whimper and grind harder on his leg when he pinches your nipple between his fingers, Daryl kisses back up your neck and puts his hands on either side of your face, pulling it to his to kiss it harshly.
“Please, Daryl, I want you,” you whimper against his lips, he hums into your mouth and slips his tongue into your mouth. “Daryl, please,” you whine as he willfully ignores your begging.
You keep kissing, clawing at his back with your short nails, just trying to pull him impossibly closer to you, his arms wrap tight around your waist, holding you down on his leg to help you grind harder against his knee. One of his arms abandons your waist to grab a fistful of your wet hair and he lets it tangle around his fingers, while he kisses you even deeper.
“You ready to get outta here, pretty girl?” He smirks at you. Before waiting for your answer he shuts the water off, grumbling about how you’re just gonna have to take another one later, and slides open the curtain. Daryl steps out and hands you a towel.
You rush past him into the bedroom, drying off and discarding your towel, then jumping on your shared bed. He walks in a few moments later, dropping the towel he had wrapped around his waist. You whistle at him teasingly, “How on earth did I get so lucky?”
He chuckles at you and sits on the bed beside your feet, running his hands up your calf, “I think I should be the one asking that, Y/N.” He crawls up to your body, pressing light kisses from your knees to your neck. If it weren’t for the lust in his eyes and the way he looks at you like you were prettiest damn woman he’s ever seen you might feel insecurity creeping in.
Daryl pecks your mouth, leaving you chasing his mouth until kisses back down your stomach, notching himself between your thighs. He peppers kisses all over the inside of your thighs, avoiding the one place you’re needing him the most. He finally caves, running his thumb up your slit, brushing away the soft hair that covers your cunt.
“You’re the sexiest damn woman I’ve ever seen,” he mutters, not giving you a chance to respond before he dives in, placing one long lick from your hole to your clit. The surprise movement leaves you gasping and squeezing his head between his thighs, which he softly pushes away. He does another long lick before focusing on your clit, alternating between gentle licks and circling it with his tongue. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, smiling when he hears you whimpering above him. He goes back to gentle licks and sucks, Daryl moves farther south until licking at our hole, he looks up at you for approval and instead sees a sight so beautiful he wonders what he did to deserve this. You, your back arched the perfect amount for him to see the soft expanse of your stomach leading to your breasts that were pushed into the air, one hand grasping clumsily at one of them, pulling at your nipple. With the image of you and your salty taste on his tongue he swore he could bust right then and there.
Daryl pushes his tongue into your hole, the mix of your wetness and his saliva creating a mess of your groin. He fucks his tongue into you, soft and steady.
It’s so much, his wet tongue sliding in and out of you, his hands gripping your thighs, his nose nudging your clit every now and then. It was too much and not enough. You gasp out, “Oh, my god, Daryl,” between your moans and heavy breathing. “D, you feel so good, I need more, please.”
He moves one hand from your thigh up to your mouth, pulling away to whisper, “suck on my fingers, baby.” You oblige, leaning forward eagerly to pull his thick fingers into your mouth and moan around them when he uses his other hand to squeeze your thigh. He fucks his fingers in and out of your mouth, coming up to press his mouth to yours, his tongue mingles with yours around his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and drops them to your cunt, using them to circle your clit, then sliding one inside of you, swallowing your gasps and moans in your shared kiss. He works his second finger into your pussy and abandons your lips to kiss down your chest, stopping to suck a nipple into his mouth briefly, but then continuing all the way back to your clit. Your hands grasp at his hair and push his face into your cunt, his tongue going back to playing with your clit while his eyes flicker up to see yours squeezed shut and mouth hanging open in ecstasy. Your hands wind in his hair so you have something to hold on to, his tongue and fingers making your head swim. He could ask you anything right now and you’d do it in a heartbeat as long as he didn’t stop. His fingers stretched you open just right and the drag of his knuckles in your pussy had you gasping for air.
His fingers were fucking into you hard enough in just the right spot that you were breathless, gasping each time they hit that spot. He groaned against your cunt and it left you whining and grinding against him, his spare arm wrapped around your hips drawing you even closer and holding you still against his mouth. He pulled away from you, protests falling from your lips at his withdrawal, “You’re doin’ so good for me, Y/N, sound so fuckin’ pretty. Perfect little cunt too, you know how much I love eating your pussy, don’ ya, baby?’ He draws, pressing more kisses and sucking little marks against the sensitive parts of your thighs, while his fingers slowly thrust in and out of you. You hum in response, hands trying to pull his head back to where you want- no need him most. “I want you to tell me, Y/N, tell me what you want,’ He insists, his dark, brown eyes boring into yours.
“You- you know what I want, honey,” you reply, face heating up, suddenly feeling almost bashful at your desperation for your partner. He pulls his fingers out of you at your less-than-satisfactory response.
“Oh, I do, baby, trust me,” he insists. “But I need to hear you say it. I want to hear you. Don’t go getting shy on me now. There’s no reason to, I know you love when I give you head, you know how much I adore buryin’ my head between your sexy thighs, feeling them squeeze me while i devour you,” he pauses to slide his fingers back into you, smiling at your quiet moan. “Hell, you should see the mess my cock is makin’ down here, leaking all over the blanket I just washed. I’m humping the bed like a damn virgin while I’m tongue deep in your pussy, sweetheart. I can feel how close you are, clenchin’ like a vice on my fingers. Now I’d love to have you make a mess on my face, but I want you to tell me what you want first. No need in getting all bashful, sweetheart, we’ve been here a dozen times before. Want to see your pretty face when you tell me, too.”
You lean up on your elbows, head foggy with need. “Daryl, I need you to make me cum, make me- make me cum all over your face,” you manage to stutter out. “Then, I need you to fuck-” your words are interrupted by a broken gasp as he dives back in, licking and sucking at your clit for all his worth. Your arms give out from behind making you drop onto your back, arching it and trying to wriggle your hips against his hold and let out breathless praises for the man eating you out like his life depends on it.
“Fuck! Daryl, you make me feel so good,” you gasp out when he goes back to licking circles on your clit. His fingers are curling into you just right, his tongue is circling your clit perfectly, your mind is buzzing and all you can think about is him. You feel your orgasm creeping up, warmth building and muscles tightening. “I- I’m so close, I-, oh my god, just like that, baby. Fuck, Daryl, please!”
You let out more whimpers and moans, a few nearly incoherent begs, although what you were begging for was unclear, all you knew is that you were so, so close to cumming on the fingers of the man you loved more than anything. Your fingers tighten their grip on his hair, which makes him groan into you and grind harder against the blanket under him, the vibrations of his groan make you buck your hips, so he tightens his hold on you. He was lapping at your cunt like it was water and he was dying of thirst. His fingers are pressing harder into you with every little thrust and you’re sobbing out as your orgasm finally washes over you. You can feel the pleasure wash over your body, making chills erupt all over you, the heat that’s been building in your core finally explodes and you’re shaking all over, back almost arching off the bed as he keeps lapping at you. You cunt is milking his fingers, legs shaking around his head as you moan out little gasps of his name. His fingers fuck you through the shock waves of your orgasm, but he doesn’t stop his movements. Your moans turn into little high pitched gasps when he pulls his fingers out of you once you stop pulsing around them, only to slide his tongue into your opening and fuck into you. It’s all too much, you can feel the rough drag of stubble on your soft inner thighs and his harsh grip on your ass as you come back down to reality. He finally lets up when you start to pull away from him and your grip on his hair loosens. He pulls away from you, his face glistening in the soft moon light peering in from the window. You grab at the back of his head and yank him into a rough kiss, tongues clash and the taste of your fluids on his lips and tongue make you moan into his mouth again.
“You’re too good for me, Daryl, honestly. You’re so good with your mouth, I’d let you eat me out for hours,” you breathlessly praise him once he pulls away to catch his breath, letting his forehead rest on yours.
“That can be arranged, darling,” he muses, starting to lower himself back to your pussy.
“No! No, not right now. I need you. I need more of you. I want your cock, please, Daryl,” you stutter, desperation fogging your brain. “Lay down, let me blow you.”
“No, sunshine, I’m not gonna last that long,” he insists, hissing when your hand wraps around his aching dick, using his own precum to stroke loosely. You reach into your bedside drawer for the condoms you had placed there a few days ago, they were past the expiration date, but it’s not like you can find any new ones any more, you had both decided you might as well try to use the protection.
“You sure?” You ask, looking at him with hooded eyes, licking your lips and ripping open the condom.
“Yes, Y/N,” he affirms. You slide the condom down his length and then use that hand to guide his cock to your entrance.
You can’t help but notice his shaky breath and the way his hands are shaking beside your head, “Daryl, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop now, we can go to bed, or I can jerk you off, if you’d rather wait.”
“I want to fuck ya, it’s just. . .” he trails off.
“Been a long time?” You finish for him. He nods to confirm your suspicion.
Before you can respond he begins to push into you, your pussy aching as he stretches you out, feeling every vein of his cock as it fills you up to the hilt. Above you, he’s grunting, arms damn near giving out as he rests most of his weight on you. He’s grunting into your ear, muttering a quiet “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” as he adjusts to the tightness of your pussy around him, as you grind and squeeze against him, your body begging for me.
“Hey, sunshine, look at me,” he’s leaning back to look you in the eye, once he got his bearings He brushes the hair out of your eyes, presses a kiss to your nose. “You feel good, better than I coulda imagined.”
“Please, Daryl.”
In lieu of a response, he crashes his lips on yours. Pulling out almost completely and pushing back in with a broken moan, your hand flies to his hair as he begins to rut into you. Short, fast thrusts that leave you gasping with your arms tight around his shoulders. He slows his pace when your nails start to scratch down his back. “I-I’m not gonna last long, y/n,” he moans, pulling all the way back and then thrusting back into you hard.
“That’s perfect, baby, please, that’s all I want. Jus’ want to make you feel good, yeah?” You pant out. Your legs wrapped tightly around him, his thrusts hitting so deep inside of you, you were seeing stars, his hips pushing flush against your own, you could feel his balls slap against your ass. He drops his head to kiss and suck on your neck, you tighten around him and reach down to rub our clit.
Daryl’s moans and thrusts get more erratic, a sign you know means he’s close. “Fuck, baby, I-” he gasps out.
“I know, I know, me too.”
“I’m sorry, you just feel so damn good-”
“Shut up and let me feel you cum inside of me,” you demand, your voice breathless and broken, he’s stretching you out so nicely and you’re rubbing fast, eager circles on our clit. “Oh- I- I’m cumming. Oh, my god, fuck! I love you so much, Daryl.”
The rhythmic squeezing of your tight pussy and your blissed out face sent him straight over the edge, he was grunting into you as you both rode out your highs.
Minutes later he was catching his breath, his legs shaking. “Was that worth the wait?” You joked. He laughed at you and slipped out, shaking his head at your sound of disappointment. Daryl pulled the condom off and threw it in the bin across the room.
In the morning he awoke before you, the sun shining across your pretty hair, he could see your relaxed face, your tits sticking out of the blanket. He wondered what he ever did to deserve this, to deserve you. He’d fight through a dozen apocalypses if it meant being with you.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
like that, a chaptered fic written by nogoodalone
chapter one
word count: 4,124
summary: He wishes he actually did just back out of this at the last minute, and wonders how, in his thick fucking skull, he didn’t consider once that he had another glaring reason for why he should have felt nervous about this whole reunion: His best friend was hotter than ever.
~~~
or, sorry for staring.
Summary: Complicated was the first word that came to mind regarding your relationship with one Jeong Yunho. He was your very best friend, your other half, the person you went to with everything. He also was someone you slept with fairly regularly. If anyone asked, the pair of you just said you were the very best of friends. That’s all it was, right? What happens when the lines start to blur even more than they already are? Or when others coming into the mix throws everything you thought you knew out the window? Do you let things fall apart or fight for a new normal?
Pairing: Non-idol!Jeong Yunho x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Strong/Mature language (I swear too often it is inevitable with me, sorry 😔), sexual content (jokes/implied sexual content/sexual themes), eventual smut, unprotected sex, angst. Minors DNI! More specific warnings will be put on each chapter.
Genre: Fluff, angst, best friends to best friends with benefits?, idiots to lovers!!
A/N: Eeeep, hi!! This is a concept I’ve actually had in my noggin for quite a few months now. I haven’t written a fic in quite some time, so please be gentle with me. On top of that, this is my first descent into the ATEEZ fic world! I hope you enjoy it!!
A supercorp AU where Lena drunkenly purchases an Inn in the small town of Midvale. Turns out it's a dump and Lena needs to recruit the help of the local contractor, one Miss Kara Danvers.
Read on Ao3
--
Chapter 1/?
Lena is fuming coming out of a meeting where Lex told her Luthor Corp couldn’t afford to indulge her ‘pet projects’ , and insinuated that making sure people the world over had access to clean water was a foolish pursuit. In front of the board . All of this was in front of the board! She and Lex may not have the healthiest of relationships but he’s never steam rolled her like this before. She asks Jess to clear her schedule for the rest of the day and heads home early in defiance of Lex’s orders to start focusing on the more lucrative Obsidian collaboration.
Hours later, on her couch and four glasses of whiskey in, Lena is still bitter but trying to distract herself with Instagram. She’s found herself falling down one of her favorite distractions: Old houses. Not that obsessions like these have to have logical explanations but Lena suspects it has something to do with living in mansions and penthouses her whole life. Big and impersonal, nothing that ever felt like home. In her inebriated state she can admit browsing through old homes allows her to think about the life she could’ve had if her mother lived. A simple life with simple things like wide front steps big enough to fit potted plants and poorly carved pumpkins, porch swings to watch rainstorms from, built-ins to hold any and everything, second floor balconies, and windows with shutters.
Just then Lena’s eye catches on a cottage style house with an overgrown flower garden in front. She sways to put her whiskey glass down because holding both her phone and glass seems like too big a task just now. She slides down further on the couch, snuggling in to read the caption.
Midvale, CA - Priced a little over what I typically show for a fixer upper, but this place is so beautiful I could cry! Listed by @anna_kreski of @redwoodrealty. Priced at $599,999.
Located on a sprawling 20 acre plot 5 miles from the center of one of California’s best kept secrets in the small town of Midvale. The main building, originally built in 1915, was updated in 1971 to become a 5 room Inn. Adjacent to the older house is a converted carriage house with an apartment upstairs and reception downstairs. Swipe through to fall in love!!!
Each image draws Lena in further; there’s wide front steps, a wrap around porch with a swing, built-ins and original windows. There’s even things she didn’t know she wanted like old tall trees reaching far above a Mansard roof. Lena starts to imagine herself living there as she scrolls through the different photos. Then she gets to the side building that houses reception and sees it has a large open space in the back that functions as a workshop plus the small apartment above has a small balcony and she really can’t believe she’s found her dream home on this otherwise dreadful day.
There’s a crooked sort of smile that graces Lena’s face at the thought as the pictures get blurrier and blurrier.
Lena wakes late the next morning to find herself still on the couch with a crick in her neck, her phone laying on the floor just out of reach, and forgotten glass of whiskey still on the coffee table. She sits up slowly in anticipation of a pounding head and she is not disappointed. Normally she’d push through it, convince herself a shower would be enough to reset her for the day but the motivation just isn’t there. It’s Friday and it really takes no time at all for her to decide she’s going to do something she’s never done before. She’s going to call into work and make it a 3 day weekend. Cause, truly, Fuck Lex .
With that decided she takes Aspirin and spends the day with her phone on silent and a book in hand. A knock on the door hours later is the first thing to get her to pay attention to the outside world again. Prepared for it to be Lex, Lena gears up for a fight, but when she opens the door it is her apologetic looking assistant.
“I’m sorry Ms. Luthor, I know you asked to not be disturbed but your lawyer insisted.”
“My lawyer?” Lena’s face scrunches with the question at a loss for what her lawyer could want.
“Um yes, apparently you messaged them last night and asked them to buy an Inn? They said you would want to know the deal is done. Said you made it sound urgent.”
Lena looks across the room at her phone on the coffee table, where it has sat since she placed it there this morning, as if it has the answers. Memories from last night flood back to her and for once Lena regrets instilling fear in the people around her to the point where they don’t question her directives. She rushes over to her phone now to investigate what she already knows is true. The house from Instagram, the short and insistent message to her lawyer to purchase it for her. It all happened.
The front door shuts and Lena looks up and remembers Jess is here. She can read the mistake all over Lena’s face.
“I’m sure Mr. Gurney could do some backtracking.”
A bit dazed, Lena looks down at an image of the Inn, remembers what it felt like to insert herself into that life. Fuck it. She straightens her spine before she replies.
“No, Jess, that’s alright. I’m going to be taking a leave of absence. Effectively immediately.”
Midvale is the type of small town that really only consists of one long main street with businesses and civic buildings surrounded immediately by residences. Charming signs that harken back to 1950s era America don most businesses. Lena’s taken immediately, having spent most her life in overly landscaped country Manors or cold city penthouses. This place has personality , with its residents walking pets, kids playing on a playground, fruit vendors on street corners, and everyone acknowledging each other as they pass. There’s even a town square with a gazebo that -
A truck zooms past in front of Lena’s car, honking its horn, and Lena’s heart jumps into her throat. Lena has to slam on the brakes to avoid collision and only has enough time to take in the dark blue of the truck and the long blonde locks of the driver before they’re gone and out of sight of Lena’s glare.
Well, the town was charming.
By the time Lena arrives at the Inn her heart rate is back to a resting rhythm but the sight in front of her doesn’t do much to lift her mood. The pictures shown online must’ve been taken awhile ago. Looking around Lena takes in the dirt path leading to the front steps, weeds taking over the yard, crooked shutters and chipped yellow paint. Had she really bought a yellow house? A run-down yellow house at that? Despite the cosmetic issues the property does inspire a peaceful feeling, and it’s obvious as Lena enters and explores the inside that the bones of the house are good and there was great care to preserve original characteristics.
Coming out of the house Lena grabs her lone piece of luggage and heads to the second building on the property where her apartment is. The entrance is up a flight of steps on the outside of the old carriage house and walks right into the living area. Mahogany framed windows let in a good amount of afternoon light that stretches straight across the dining area to the kitchen on the other side of the open floor plan. The apartment is furnished with the basics; a rolled arm gray sofa with mid-century end tables, a solid dark wood bookshelf with little flair, and a shaker style queen bed. It all has a quaint simple charm about it.
Needing food and a contractor, Lena sees no reason to delay and heads right back into town after her brief acquaintance with the property. Having left in a hurry she hasn’t done any research into local contractors or even really how to go about any of this and figures the local hardware store she saw on her way in is a good place to start.
--
A bell rings overhead as Lena enters the store and she hears a small crash from the back followed by muffled grumbling. A woman comes out from behind a counter, tripping over something on her way, looking down and rubbing the back of her head.
“ - didn’t mean to, J’onn,I’ll fix it promise - ,” the woman stops abruptly when she notices it’s Lena standing there and not who she was expecting, “You’re not J’onn.”
“No,” is all Lena offers in response, waiting instead to be greeted and offered help from this alarmingly attractive if not disheveled looking person.
The woman just stands there and stares instead, and Lena is beginning to think turning around and heading in the complete opposite direction is the best course of action when she recognizes the particular flip of blonde hair standing in front of her. It hits her all at once.
“Wait a minute - you almost hit me! With your truck! I didn't recognize you because your hair is up, but it’s you!”
A look of recognition passes over Kara’s face then, too, but where Lena is expecting shame she gets indignation.
“Ma’am, I was just following the rules of the road,” And the way she drawls ma’am hits Lena somewhere she’s going to ignore because Lena’s may have a thing for accents but this woman did nearly hit her with a rather large truck not an hour ago.
“So the rules around here dictate people just blow through intersections almost hitting people?”
“Me? Hit you? Uh, no offense but I had the right of way and you weren’t paying attention.” The handsome stranger’s jaw is ticking now and Lena feels like she is losing the high ground. Naturally she doubles down.
“So that gives you the right to bulldoze someone?”
“For Pete’s sake, I -,” The bell above the door interrupts the woman, and in walks a large man.
“J’onn, hey! I uh, made a mess in the back but I’ll pick it up. And, you have a customer!” Kara indicates Lena and looks sheepish, as if J’onn could sense she had just been arguing with his customer. “This is J’onn, he owns the shop.”
J’onn holds his hand out for a handshake and Lena accepts it stiffly even though he’s done nothing wrong she can’t help but feel this entire outing was a mistake.
“Good to meet you, Miss….” J’onn and the woman are both looking at her curiously now, maybe because of her extended silence but Lena also supposes they don’t get many new faces around here.
“Lena. I just purchased Argo Inn,” she sees no reason to offer her full name.
J’onn’s face does an interesting journey from surprised to concerned and glances at the yet unnamed woman with a curious expression but it’s gone before Lena can examine it closely.
“Welcome, it’s nice to have a resident there again. We treasure our landmarks around here,” Lena can’t tell but it seems like there is a bit of a threat running through his statement. And yes, Lena knows shes letting her emotions and reactions run away from her here but she didn’t finish that 6-week online training in mindfulness so… fuck off. She needs to get back on track.
“Yes, well, I was hoping you could recommend a local contractor to me,” Lena thought asking someone from the town would be better than just relying on the internet, though now she’s doubting her choice with this uncomfortable interaction. Why hasn’t she made a polite exit yet?
“You’re in luck. Best contractor in town is Kara here,” J’onn indicates the woman next to him and Lena can’t help the strained fake smile that stretches across her face. Yeah, she should’ve bolted by now.
“Great,” Lena’s face does not match the sentiment, doubtful of Kara’s competence based on the short time she’s known her.
“I can come do a walk-through with you tomorrow,” for her part Kara seems to have shaken off their unpleasant interaction and appears real eager, “8:00 AM?”
Lena figures she could at least let Kara interview for the job.
“I’ll see you then. Nice to meet you both,” antsy to get out of there Lena finally makes her exit.
--
When Lena gets to finally spend time in the bedroom she’ll be living in for the foreseeable future she feels a sense of peace she hasn’t felt in a long time. French doors lead out to a small balcony that looks out at the wild landscape of the property, not another house in sight. A perfect place to curl up with a book. She breathes, and feels settled. For dinner, she makes a simple pasta dish, unwinds with a glass of wine, and is asleep before 10:00 PM for the first time in forever.
--
Lena wakes with the sun and takes her cup of coffee outside to take advantage of the swing on the Inn’s porch, still dressed in her sweatpants and t-shirt. Before she can enjoy the tranquil morning atmosphere however, her phone rings and she curses herself for bringing it with her - habit she supposes. When she looks at the screen it’s Sam calling and she knows she can’t ignore it, having left with only a short explanation and ignoring Sam’s attempts to reach her since.
“Hey, Sam,” she braces herself for the talking-to she knows she’s about to receive.
“‘Bout fucking time, Luthor.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s it? You tell me you buy an Inn? God knows where. Leave the next day without any guidance on how to take over this workload you left behind. Ignore my calls and texts. And all I get is a sorry? You left me to deal with Andrea for god’s sake!”
”She's not that bad”
“We’re literally both your ex. You left me, someone you used to date, to deal with her, someone else you used to date.”
“You're grown women, Sam,” Lena says, amusement in her voice.
“Tell that to Andrea. You are the only person she’s even remotely decent to.”
“I don’t know what to say, Sam. I reached my breaking point,” Lena tucks her legs underneath herself curling up both to protect against the morning chill and Sam’s ire, “I am sorry, truly, but I had to be selfish just this once.”
There’s a long pause before Lena hears Sam exhale.
“I know, babe, and you deserve it. I just worry,” Sam says, a little defeated.
“Well if it is any consolation I’m doing good. A little out of my depth, but good.”
“Out of your depth is where you thrive,” Sam points out.
She’s right and Lena breathes in the confidence Sam has in her, feeling thankful for her friend and foolish for not confiding in her sooner.
“So, tell me about it,” Sam injects some annoyance into her voice to let Lena know she isn’t entirely off the hook.
“Well, the Inn is in a little tougher shape than I was expecting, but I was drunk when I bought it so I don’t actually know what I was expecting. But it’s charming and peaceful here. It’s up North along the coast. I’m having a contractor coming out today. We’ll see if her vision matches mine. Though she didn’t exactly come across as professional.”
“You sure you’re not just being a snob?”
“No, Sam, I am not being a snob.”
Sam hums, doubt obvious in her tone, “Well, I’ve got to go pick up the pieces you left behind. Don’t you dare continue to ignore me, or Jess for that matter.”
“I won’t, promise.”
“Okay, good. Love you, take care of yourself.”
“Love you too, Sam.”
Lena sets her phone aside and tries one of those deep breaths she’s been so fond of lately but is startled out of her centering by a sleek black cat rubbing against her leg.
“Oh, hello. What’s your name?” The cat only turns around to rub the other side of it’s body against Lena. “ Ah, you’re withholding, I see. We have that in common,” Lena scratches the cat's head before she sits back to sip at her coffee, “What do you think? Am I crazy for doing this?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Gary regarded him in the firelight. “But you remember it, don’t you?”
“What, drinking?”
“Yeah, mate,” Gary said, “you know, the good times.”
i broke my years-long streak of not writing fanfic & took a stab at a world’s end piece. feel free to reblog, share, whatever -- i don’t even know if this will show up in the tag because of how tumblr works these days but here u go anyway
