#(i lost count of how many times i watched community all the way through but its more than 7 which is the last time i counted like last year)

[amputatedhearts]

im so scared that when i go to school next semester that i will be entirely overwhelmed by my intense need to reference community as its technically a community college and i will also be incredibly stressed and my comfort zone is tv references. and i am scared of this because i think i would scare off potential friends and/or be too distracted with myself to make any. and i want friends. not sure how ill be normal about this.

[amandacanwrite]

The Bear and the Fox - A Halsin x Reader One Shot

Word Count || About 6,000 Words

Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.

POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.

CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)

A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!

You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple.. 

The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you. 

You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot. 

They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored. 

When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap. 

But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered. 

“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”

You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.

He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms. 

Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny. 

He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.

“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”

He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”

He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private. 

Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back. 

You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin. 

It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him. 

But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned. 

Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave. 

But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape. 

You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much. 

Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all. 

Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable. 

Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows. 

“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself. 

But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures. 

When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children. 

But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun. 

You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat. 

You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept. 

It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know. 

He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished? 

He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst. 

“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead. 

You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far. 

Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else? 

He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell. 

Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it. 

“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”

“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”

Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again. 

You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes. 

You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort. 

When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine. 

You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening. 

For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox. 

But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you. 

He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands. 

“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”

His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners. 

“No,” he says. 

“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”

“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”

You look up at him. “Why?” you ask. 

There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her. 

“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”

You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth. 

He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”

You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod. 

He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet. 

“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers. 

“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”

He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that. 

“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”

You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else. 

There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done. 

When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you. 

Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face. 

“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”

You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there. 

“It’s just a bruise,” you say. 

He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head. 

“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”

You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”

His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”

“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”

Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.

“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?” 

You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear. 

The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage. 

How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”

“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says. 

“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”

“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts. 

“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”

“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“

“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”

“But—“ Kagha says. 

“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled. 

He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha. 

Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference. 

“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says. 

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”

Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same. 

Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her. 

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”

“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”

Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.

You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.

The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.

Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator. 

His expression softens, looking almost apologetic. 

“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you. 

Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl. 

His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal. 

“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”

You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again. 

A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door. 

You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion. 

You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves. 

The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you. 

The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you. 

So why had you stayed so long? 

The fear of being captured again, perhaps. 

Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while. 

But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality. 

No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you. 

That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life. 

A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin. 

He’s just…

He’s everything you wish you could be. 

He’s everything you wish you could have.

But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly. 

But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you. 

The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet. 

You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco. 

You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame. 

You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood. 

You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you. 

“Is this a dream?” You ask. 

His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you. 

“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks. 

Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever. 

“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”

You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”

His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”

You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”

“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”

“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”

He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says. 

“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say. 

He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”

“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”

There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you. 

You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you. 

“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through. 

“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”

“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head. 

“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”

You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you. 

“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”

You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help. 

“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask. 

“You wish to leave?” he asks. 

“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”

You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak. 

“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”

“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative. 

It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”

You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you. 

Halsin…wants you? You?

You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever. 

“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”

“What?” you say. 

“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”

You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours. 

“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”

You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment. 

Halsin loves you.

The bear has fallen for the fox. 

And he wants you by his side. 

It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him. 

You will protect him. 

And he will protect you. 

“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”

“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous. 

“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”

The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap. 

Where he kisses you for the very first time.

May the oak father bless you with countless others. 

Taglist|| @itty-bitty-dancer @thoughts-of-bear @tryingtowritestuff24 @drabblesandimagines @soupaisu @ladyoakenshield157 @ladytesla @incrediblethirst @baldurs-gate-simp @themidnighttiger @rayskittles33 @hippiewrites @whisperingwillowxox @ethereal-sk1es @cosywinterevenings @themartiansdaughter @brain-has-left @any59 @madwomansapologist @midnightmoonytales @unaliveoni @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @kellerybird @tiedyedghoulette @jenn-duncan @thelittledoe @esotericeribos @robingreysantos @erwinmybeloved @itdobe-foggy @witchywannabe3263 @kaimxri @cryingoverpixelsetc @theoriginalannoyingbird

[chervbs]

undying devotion — a. ancunin

pairings: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

word count: 1.5k

synopsis: you have a very limited time to free everyone, including duke ravenguard, from the iron throne. It seems easy enough until you realize you may not make it out before gortash destroys the entire prison, and you along with it. and with your new but thriving relationship with your vampiric companion, you have more to lose than just your life.

warnings: angst, mega angst, main character death, spoilers for act 3 (specifically the iron throne quest), mentions of c*zador, resurrection, hurt/comfort, happy ending, maybe ooc astarion because I’m still getting used to writing these characters, lmk if I missed any!

a/n: hello my angels! I hope you all enjoy this short little angsty piece I came up with for everyones favorite vampire. anonymous requested some angst for astarion and I immediately thought of this moment that happened in my first playthrough of the game where the only person I couldn't get out of the iron throne was my tav. it was a scary moment until I remembered what my man withers was there for. the characters in the game don't actually have a reaction to tav not making it out so I came up with this. any feed back is greatly appreciated! <3

ao3 link

Of all the battles fought between the crash of the Nautiloid ship and now, the Iron Throne is proving to be potentially the most perilous.

The plan had seemed simple when you all waited for the submersible to dock the underwater prison. Get in, free as many prisoners as possible, and get out. Of course the creatures guarding the prison would be an obstacle, but your party had defeated a plethora of foes before, how difficult could this mission be?

You all shared the sentiment, until the projection of Lord Enver Gortash had made an appearance.

“Aren’t you the intrepid little adventurer?” The man’s smug voice startled everyone aboard, shoulders growing tense and glares growing fierce. “Digging and diving where you don’t belong. And I thought we were friends.”

Astarion watched as you squared your shoulders, looking the projection right in the eyes. “Fuck you, Gortash.” The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement, but it didn’t last.

Gortash made it clear that if you continued on your quest, he would destroy the Iron Throne, and you all with it.

You had glanced back, communicating with Astarion, Halsin, and Karlach silently. Each of you wonder if this is worth the stakes. Worth all of the lives that could be lost if you failed. Then you looked at your captain, Redhammer the Deviser, and nodded for him to dock the ship.

“That was a mistake.” Gortash scowled. “When the corpses start to wash up on the shore, remember–you could have prevented all of this.”

There wasn’t much time after you docked to accomplish what you came for, so the four of you climbed the ladder with swiftness. The moment you stepped down, your tadpole began to wriggle as a familiar voice spoke to you.

“Halt. You must act with haste. Duke Ravenguard is held within these walls. He must be extracted.” It was unmistakably Omeluum, the mindflayer you’d made friends with in the Underdark.

You knew there was no time for questions. “Tell me what to do.”

“Duke Ravenguard is held in the security wing. Be careful, there are many hazards. This structure is collapsing. Act with speed, act with efficiency. Good luck.”

Swords, arrows and spells were used to get you all through the prison with haste. The Sahugin guards were inconvenient, but not the priority. You only attacked when they were in your way, and dodged them the rest of the time.

Astarion and Halsin were able to make it to Duke Ravenguard, freeing and healing him while also taking down the obstacles sent by Mizora. The security was the closest to the center of the ship and the two men made quick work of the guards still lingering there.

You and Karlach had each taken separate wings, hoping to free as many people as you could. Karlach freed the few prisoners in her wing before she came across Omeluum. Once he was freed, he was able to teleport the two of them back onto the submersible.

It was only as you fought your way through yours that you regretted not bringing someone else with you. The wing you took held the most prisoners and it seemed as if every guard your companions didn’t defeat decided to flock to the area.

Time was running out and you knew it. Your tadpole wriggled again.

“You must return. The prison will be destroyed any moment now.” Omeluum warned. His voice was monotone as any other mind flayer, but you could sense veiled concern.

You took one last look at the crowd of Sahugin in front of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You lacked enough energy to be able to misty step back to the entrance, and there was no time to look for a useful scroll.

“Did everyone make it on board?” You asked, slashing the guards in front of you.

“Indeed.”

You sighed, tears welling. “Then tell them I’m sorry.”

Astarion was the last to climb aboard the submersible after Halsin. Water sprayed onto the platform as the structure began to give way. Halsin reached down to grab his forearms, pulling him the rest of the way. He’d just barely began to search for you within the ship when Karlach spoke up.

“Where’s Tav?” She asked shakily, as if she had already realized the answer.

Astarion’s eyes widened, as did everyone’s. “No.” He whispered, darting over to the window.

There was a split second before the explosion, the force of it rumbling within the water. “No!” He cried, knees buckling as he collapsed.

Karlach slapped a hand over her mouth, tears already falling from her eyes like a waterfall. Halsin bowed his head, sad eyes closing as Astarion lets out a heart wrenching scream.

It didn’t matter to him that his companions had never seen him so distraught, not even after he’d delivered the killing blow to Cazador. No, this pain was entirely different.

This pain was like having his heart ripped out, then his soul extracted then his body mutilated. Every part of him ached in a way he didn’t know he was capable of feeling. Though it shouldn’t surprise him. In the time since meeting, you’d taught him many things about himself. And even in death it seems he’s still learning from you.

Astarion was more silent than Karlach and Halsin had ever seen him. As they received their reward from the Wavemother and talked to Duke Ravenguard, Astarion dragged behind them, silent tears escaping consistently.

Only once they reached camp did Astarion seem to return to his mind, paying no attention to the surprised and concerned stares from everyone else. He was only focused on storming over to the camps undead resident.

Withers did not looked fazed nor surprised by the vampires rage, closing the tome he had been focused on the staring blankly.

“Bring them back.” He demanded, voice thick with emotion. “Bring Tav back.”

Astarion faintly heard a few gasps from the crowd that had gathered behind him, the rest of the party hearing of your death for the first time.

The creatures hollow, echoed voice responded. “There is a cost to do so.”

Astarion’s jaw clenched. “What is it?”

“A matter of coin.” Withers replied simply.

A pale hand reached back into his travel pack to pull out the pouch of coin Astarion had collected throughout your travels. He shoved it against the undead’s chest. “Here!” He snarled. “Take it! Take all the coin we have, I don’t care how much it takes.”

Withers calmly opened the pouch, peaking inside. “That won’t be necessary. This is more than enough.” He said, dropping the pouch to the ground. “I recommend keeping thy distance for a moment.”

Everybody took a step back besides Astarion, only until Karlach placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and pulled.

Withers lifted a bony hand, speaking his words like a prayer. “By doom and dusk, I strike thy name from the archives. Rise!”

There was a brief flash of light that had everyone shielding their eyes. In a matter of seconds, you appeared, stumbling like you’d been thrown back on earth. Which, to your credit, is what it felt like.

Your breaths were quick and heavy as they had been in your final moments, and you patted your body to ensure you really were alive.

There wasn’t much time for you to linger in your thoughts before you were essentially tackled, toned arms coming around you in a crushing embrace. As you heard the sound of weeping, you registered that it was your love who had lunged at you.

A choked sound escaped your lips before you could even realize you yourself had started to cry, arms wrapping around Astarion’s torso.

Through your foggy eyes, you could faintly see your other companions standing a few feet away, some wiping tears and others smiling somberly at you. But they were far from your mind at the moment.

You could only focus on the man in your arms, the both of you collapsing to the ground. “My love.” He whimpered out, surely leaving fingernail markings with how hard he was gripping you. “My little love, I thought you gone for good.”

A watery chuckle escaped, one of your hands coming to lace within the white curls of his hair. “I’m so sorry, Star. Never. I could never leave you.” You sobbed.

His embraced loosened, hands traveling to your face and pulling your forehead against his. His crimson gazed peered into yours, full of desperation. As if he would never be able to look into them again.

“I have never known pain,” He whispered to you hoarsely. “Like what I felt when that wretched place exploded.”

Your lips quivered with another onslaught of emotions. You placed your own palms against his cheeks, thumbs stroking the smooth, alabaster skin. ���I never would have made it on time.” You sniffed. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He shook his head lightly, removing his forehead and replacing it with his lips instead. He pressed a kiss there, then to your cheek, and then a final one to your lips, lingering again as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share. You only separated once oxygen became a concern.

“The others are waiting.” You sniffed, though you made no move to leave his side.

“Let them.” Astarion said, a small, relieved grin growing on his face. And you did.

The rest of the world could wait until the end of time for you to part from your Star.”

[hey-august]

A Favor for the Captain - Chapter 1 | NSFW (Buggy x afab!reader)

Description: You expected to spend night duty alone, but your captain decides to keep you company. Together you enjoy some light hearted conversation and silly jokes, before Buggy asks for an unexpected, but not unwelcome, favor. Word count: Just under 2.5k A/N: This is probably just going to be 2 chapters. I have the next chapter outlined, so hopefully it'll be ready to post soon. Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, dry humping, bad jokes, pathetic and embarrassed buggy because he's bad at communicating. All parties are consenting adults.

→ Chapter 2

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Make good choices!” you called out to your crewmates as they streamed off the ship and into the night. It had been ages since any of you had free time and most of the crew chose to spend it in town, savoring goods and experiences that were sparse out at sea. Fresh food, endless alcohol, and sex with people you didn’t work with.

You, on the other hand, were stuck on the ship. Your freedom was clipped short when you were put on night guard duty. Someone had to mind the ship at night and it fell to the new recruit who didn’t know they should lie about already having plans. Secretly, you didn’t mind. There was supposed to be a meteor shower soon and this gave you an excuse to look for the shooting stars.

The dark and quiet night draped over the ship, a heavy blanket that muffled the soft crashes of sea. A soft breeze danced through the palm trees on the shore, moving them in time with the echoes of music and laughter that drifted from town. You were laid out on the deck, positioned to search the sky. Each pinprick of light was still in place, almost mocking you for remaining on the ship and not exploring elsewhere. As if you had a choice. 

Lost in thought and drifting among the constellations, you missed the sound of footsteps approaching your solo viewing party. They moved in time with the sound of waves, a natural ability from someone bound to the sea. Eventually you realized that the feeling of being watched wasn’t pouring from the watchful moon and stars, but from a presence nearby.

Your captain broke into a grin at the sight of your panicked double-take. The first look expressed confusion and the second carried fear. Neither were emotions that were foreign to him, the pirate clown has seen both directed at him many times before. But watching your head whip around to confirm it was the captain and the way your eyes widened was downright comical. 

Before you could scramble to your feet, Buggy crouched next to you. You sat up and surveyed his face, trying to assess how absolutely fucked you were. Honestly, it was hard to read anything past the fake smile painted on his face, but he looked more bemused than pissed. This could work in your favor.

“So…guard duty?” Buggy broke the silence first.

You cringed, unsure how to answer. How could you convince the captain you were on duty when you didn’t even hear him walk over? The guy wears heavy boots. On the plus side, he wasn’t wearing his coat full of knives, bombs, and other superfluous noise makers. Even still, that wasn’t enough of an excuse.

“What were you even looking at?” he questioned, each word emphasized by his mischievous smile.

“The stars,” you answered, glancing back up at the silent audience. At the edge of your vision, you saw Buggy also turn towards the sky. “There are supposed to be shooting stars, but I haven’t seen any.”

“Ever?” He turned his attention back to you. The question caught you off-guard and you shook your head.

“Damn, if I had the right prop I could make your night.” Buggy could see the gears turning in your head, producing a complete lack of understanding. He sighed disappointedly and mimed shooting at the sky before gesturing at himself. “Shooting…star…” It was so obvious.

You groaned and covered your face, not sure if your laughter was because it was actually a good joke, or because Buggy delivered the gag like it was. Satisfied with your response, Buggy joined you in sitting on the wooden floor and looked back at the sky.

Massaging the rest of the laughter out of your cheeks, you turned towards your captain. “Have you ever seen one? A real shooting star?”

“Countless times. They’re really a sight to see…the stars know how to put on a show.” 

In the corner of his eye, Buggy saw you nod as he spoke, noting how you gazed at him a moment longer than usual. Normally the attention would make Buggy feel self-conscious, but the air between you two felt comfortable. It always did. Not that you two interacted much, but he picked up on your calm composure, even when he was wreaking havoc on the crew. Even now, as you eased yourself back into lying on the floor, you exuded a sense of peace. Moving naturally, as if you were hanging out with a close friend and not your boss. Maybe this was all conjured by the loneliness in his head. Still, Buggy indulged in the atmosphere. He joined you in spreading out on the floor for a better view of the sky and there you both lay, under boundless celestial nightlights. 

“Do you know the names of the constellations?” you questioned, putting a pause to the relaxed silence you were sharing.

Buggy nodded and started rattling off celestial names while a disembodied gloved hand floated overhead, pointing out each group of stars. After the first few, he started adding in a few made up constellations.

“Big Richie, it’s a magnificent, fearsome, circus lion.” “The Big Top Tent! See how it encompasses everything?” “Oh, this is my favorite, the Genius Jester Hat! It-”

The last one was cut off when your chuckles exploded into full-fledged laughter, satisfying the clown. “Alright, alright, I get it,” you choked out and elbowed his arm.

Buggy summoned his hand back, suddenly, hyper aware of how close you two were. Shoulders touching slightly after your giggle-fest. Hands a breadth apart. Fingers so close they could touch if he simply reached out. Heat grew in the places close to you, as if you were setting him on fire. 

You weren't aware, but you were doing it again. Consuming his mind, his attention. The way you always watched him - observed, really - interested Buggy. Occupying areas of his mind until there were days where he could only think of you. Think of ways to get your eyes on him. Your attention focused on him. Your laugh creating music for his ears. Your smile. Your lips.

There were also nights where the thoughts of you flooded his mind. At first he’d ignore them, believing it was a passing fancy. But they wouldn’t leave him alone. Every glimpse of you kept the tantalizing visions buoyant. Any shred of attention you gave him added to the relentless waves in his head, until he succumbed. He’d let the swell of endless thoughts and images consume his body until he was left shuddering and gasping your name in the dark. And now, that familiar tempest was brewing inside the pirate.

Buggy pulled his knees up, hoping the position would hide the bulge growing in his pants. Sure, he could leave, but he felt greedy. He wanted more. He wanted to stay close to you. To listen to your breathing. Feel the heat of your body…

“Captain?” Your voice snapped him back into the moment. He hummed an acknowledgement.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’ve been wondering why you always wear gloves.” You nudged your hand against his, skin against fabric.

“Why? It’s part of my schtick. My role as a performing artist,” Buggy boasted.

“Mmm, part of your costume?”

“Exactly.” Buggy was pleased that you understood, but your next question tested that warm feeling.

“Are you performing now? Is this a bit?”

Buggy stayed silent. He held up his gloved hands, thinking about how to answer. To be honest, he wasn’t sure himself. It didn’t feel like a bit or a performance. There was something genuine here.

You watched as Buggy pulled off his gloves and set them down. So that was his answer. Seeing his bare hands felt surprisingly intimate. His nails were painted. Thankfully the dark night hid the blush overtaking your face. You copied Buggy and held out your hands. The two of you mimicking each other, palms raised to the sky as if waiting to collect the stars themselves.

Buggy reached over to grab one of your hands, remarking at how small it is compared to his. Other than the tell-tale calluses that all pirates have, his skin was soft. You liked how his grasp enveloped your hand. It was gentle. Cautious. Buggy liked how your hand felt in his. Warm and accepting.

Something was caught in the pirate’s throat. Words he knew he shouldn’t say, but would cause him to explode if he kept them contained. Buggy swallowed the nerves that threatened to shake his voice.

“I need you to do me a favor.” 

“Yes, Captain?”

Fuck. Even though Buggy has heard those words from you many times before, this time it sounded different. Better.

“Get on top of me.”

You turned your head to see if you heard him right. Before you could ask and confirm, his detached hands were tugging and nudging you to move. Your body felt clumsy. It was in disbelief, trying to catch up to the thoughts running through your mind and the demanding hands maneuvering it into place. Nervous and confused, you straddled Buggy - trying very hard not to sit on him - and looked down. This was something you imagined before, but it was not how you expected it to go. Although Buggy avoided looking at you, choosing to scowl at a random area on the deck instead, the hands holding your hips told you that this is what he asked for

“Cap-”

“Don’t say anything. J-just…just do me this favor.” 

He saw you nod in the corner of his eye. He finally relaxed his legs, laying them back down. The hold on your hips tightened and Buggy pressed you down, wanting you to truly be on top of him. You weren’t prepared for the hard object beneath you or for it to press back when you made contact. You jumped in surprise but Buggy kept you in place. Finally, he looked at you. His eyebrows were pulled into a frown and his jaw was tight. As expressive as the pirate clown was normally, this was one expression you couldn’t decipher. There was the usual frustration, but also embarrassment - or was it fear? - and want.

You let his hands ease you back down on to the erection trapped in his pants, sighing as it sat snuggly against you. Buggy’s hands kneaded your hips as he hissed at the feeling. While his grasp was gentle when he held your hand, the way he squeezed your body was not the same. He clung to you as if you were the last match in a dark room. Something he desperately needed. Something that would grant all his wishes.

Buggy’s cock felt so hard that it was almost painful just sitting on it. When his hands began to pressure your hips back and forth, you welcomed the movement and rocked in time with his hold. Whenever he throbbed against your body, you returned the gesture by pressing into him more. You knew Buggy enjoyed that sensation by how he groaned and moved underneath you in ecstasy. It was mesmerizing and you wanted more. Leaning forwards, you placed your hands on Buggy’s chest and angled your hips so that you could grind yourself against his entire length. 

The unexpected pressure eased a low moan from the pirate. His eyes had been fluttering but now they opened wide to watch you. Fucking beautiful. That’s all Buggy could think at the moment. Your head was tilted back in bliss while little moans and whimpers slipped from your mouth. The way you worked your body on his, driving your hips against his cock, was far better than any meteor shower. Buggy felt himself get closer to the edge thinking about how your cunt was so close. Only a few measley layers of fabric kept him from ramming himself into your wet heat and fucking you until you saw stars.

You noticed that his cock was becoming needier by the moment, throbbing and twitching below you. Rolling your hips, you rubbed your clit against his hardness. The sensation rocked through your body, a terrible side effect of the delicious feeling which left you weak. Eager to chase the climax that was close, you wanted to ask your captain for help. Before you could get a full word out, your head was pulled backwards. A disembodied hand was entangled in your hair, drawing you into an arch. The change in position left your mouth open, but the tension prevented you from saying anything more. Unable to keep pressure on your clit, you felt the climax ebb away.

“S-shhhh, n-not a word,” Buggy groaned. 

He knew he took advantage of his position as your captain and couldn’t bear to think about what you might say while he was exerting that power. It was cowardly and pathetic, but he was too far gone.

Although Buggy still had one hand on your hip, he started bucking against you. His movements were forceful and sloppy. When Buggy gasped and his hips stuttered, you knew that he reached his end. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to imagine the lewd face he must be making. What his cock looked like releasing each stream of jizz. How it would feel in your cunt. Or in your mouth. What his cum tastes like.

Once Buggy stilled underneath you, he finally loosened his grip on your hair. Breathlessly, you looked at the flushed, panting, pirate before you. As the heat from Buggy’s climax dissipated and the load in his pants began to cool and clump together, he felt ashamed and sick of himself. He could barely look you in the eyes again. Giving into his cowardice, Buggy tried to ease you off of him before resorting to his devil fruit ability when he couldn’t quickly detangle your bodies.

“Wai-”

“Thanks.” Buggy spoke over you, still afraid to hear what you might say. What you might regret. He awkwardly picked his gloves off the floor before leaving, opting to have his feet walk away while the rest of his body floated. He already felt like shit and feeling the cold globs of sadness in his pants rub against him wouldn’t help.

And that’s where you finished the rest of your guard duty that night. It gave you plenty of time to think about what happened and analyze. And overthink. And overanalyze. That was an awful way to leave someone after using them like some sort of fuck toy. But…there was a part of you that liked it. He clearly wanted you. Or part of you. And you found that exciting.

Based on how Buggy practically fled the scene, you weren’t sure how things would be tomorrow. Still you couldn't help but think about what could have happened if you spoke up. What you wish happened instead.

[tenjikyu]

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘏𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 - 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦.

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Fyodor x Demon!Servant!Male!Reader , HEAVILY inspired by Black Butler , reader is kinda sexual towards Fyodor but I wanted tension between the two bc it’s kinda romantic but also kinda not yk , really improvising on Fyodor’s backstory here bc there’s nothing for me to go off of so it’s probs inaccurate but lay off me please 🙏🏻 , Sky Casino exists before the book for plot purposes.

SPOILERS FOR FYODOR’S ABILITY + RECENT CHAPTERS!

Fyodor had first met you on the verge of death. A visit from the devil, one could say.

“ PLEASE, SOMEONE, ANYONE, SAVE ME !! ”

The man’s cries were a melody to your ears, and thus you decided to investigate, which led to your current predicament. You were no fool, you saw right through Fyodor’s façade, and you were somewhat intrigued. As a demon, the man’s false screams of agony with each stab wound thrusted into his lithe body couldn’t fool your ears. Whilst in pain, he was in no hurry to save himself. No, he was eagerly awaiting his demise.

And so, you watched from the shadows, invested in the show before you. Blood was shed and organs were spilt, all before Fyodor’s heart was put to rest.

And then, his murderer soon began to morph, his body bending and dislodging in intricate ways. His face swirled and curled itself in. Out came, what seemed to be, a carbon copy of the man you just witnessed get mutilated by, what was now, his former murderer.

As Fyodor took in his surroundings, adjusting to his new body, he sensed another presence he hadn’t noticed beforehand. It was rare for Fyodor to express any form of shock, but someone with the ability to conceal themselves from him for an extended period of time was certainly nobody to fuck with.

And so, he slowly turns around, preparing himself for whoever stands behind him. However nothing could’ve prepared him for what he would witness turning around.

An inhuman entity with large wings, a pointed tail and strong black horns revealed itself to Fyodor. The entity was easily over 9ft tall and had somewhat human characteristics embedded into its form. It stood tall, yet curiosity filled its eyes.

Curiosity filled your eyes.

As you stared at him, Fyodor’s shocked most slowly formed into a smirk.

“What pleasure do I owe such a magnificent being such as yourself? Surely you aren’t just here to observe, are you?” He questions.

“Your screaming intrigued me, and so I decided to take a look into the situation. Alas, you came out unscathed, which means I no longer have business with you.” You reply, and slowly turn around.

Just as you walk away though, a bony hand grasps your own.

“If it’s a deal you were going to offer me, I’m still interested.” Fyodor bargains, his smirk widening.

Oh?

And so, you slowly transfer your body into a more human like state, dawning a black coat, with a white undershirt and black shorts. Discarding your wings and tail, yet keeping your point black horns, you adjust your height to better accommodate communication with him.

“What did you have in mind?” You enquire, a smirk of your own now gracing your face. You wanted to know what it would take to earn this man’s soul, because god did it smell delicious.

“Play the role of my servant. You shall never betray me and will treat me as if I’m your God. You will do my bidding and will do whatever I ask of you. In my journey to achieving my goal, you shall never leave my side.”

“And how should I prove my loyalty to you, sir?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

And so, a deal with the Devil was signed.

As written in your contract, you obediently stood by his side for many centuries to come. The two of you had a rather intimate relationship, but it was nothing more than lustful advances. Other then carrying out his desires, you dispersed of anybody standing in his way of obtaining what he wanted. As the years went on, you had lost count of how many human lives you discarded and how many nails you removed from fingers. You seduced princesses, murdered guards, tortured bandits for information, and all the while, you watched Fyodor’s plan slowly set into motion.

As centuries past, allies and foes came and passed, yet none of that mattered to you. You could and have killed hundreds of humans and feasted on their mediocre souls, however none compared to that of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s. His soul was a diamond in the rough, a premium amongst brass and copper, if you would.

And so, you followed both him and your contract without complaint. It’s not like Fyodor was a boring or difficult master. There was almost never a dull moment with him, and your loyalty knew no ends when it came to getting what you ultimately wanted.

Somewhere along the way, you suspected you harboured feelings for the Russian. You wernt sure exactly what kind, but you knew that each time he was put at risk, even knowing his ability, you couldn’t help but interfere.

Which brings us to where the two of you are now.

“Fyodorrrr, wanna play a card game with me?” Nikolai’s bubbly voice boomed through the Decay Of Angel’s headquarters. You held a somewhat fond feeling for Nikolai, despite not interacting with him much.

“Cmonnnn, you’ve been staring at a computer screen for days! Your eyes are gonna go SQUARE! SQUAREEE!!” He exclaims, his arms flailing around like a mad man.

“If you’d like, I can handle the Jester whilst you continue what you’re doing.”

“As useful as ever, dear (Y/N)”

“If not a useful asset to you, Demon Fyodor, what am I worth?”

“You’re worth everything, my dear.”

“How you flatter me.”

His pretty words do little to your synthetic heart, however you adhere to the puppet strings he’s attached to you and play your part well, knowing Fyodor may be in a mood tonight.

“Hey Nikolai, how about we go up to the Sky Casino and visit Sigma? We haven’t seen him in awhile and it’s not going to be long before we set out to go get that silly little book the boss wants.” You reason with the jester, smiling at him.

“A wonderful idea, lovley (Y/N)! I know what you’re doing, distracting me from disrupting the grumpy Fyodor’s tech work, however I’ll humor you for now.” He concludes, grabbing your arm harshly and spinning away into his cloak.

“How’d you end up as a butler for that constant-stick-up-his-ass Fydor? If anything (Y/N), you should be ordering him around.” Sigma states bluntly, just the two of you alone. Nikolai was off bothering the Casino guests and Sigma had learned to just let him do as he pleases.

There’s no restraining something that doesn’t have the ability to be restrained.

“I simply admire Fyodor and his goals. He piqued my interest, and so I broke down his walls and forced my way into his life, eventually leading him to take me on as his underlying.” You lie through your teeth. You knew Fyodor had some sense of worship towards you, which was almost funny. The man who preached God had a sense of devotion to a demon from the pits of hell.

How ironic.

Sigma only hums in your response, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You inch closer to him on the couch you were both resting on in his private quarters, and toyed around with his artificial hair.

You knew Sigma wasn’t human, and part of you knew that he knew you were no less human then he was, yet he never addressed it.

The man in question only glared at you, but decided against telling you off. You were always quite touchy, especially when it came to Nikolai or himself. Often toying with his hair or pinching Nikolai’s cheeks, however it was rare of you to even touch Fyodor without his explicit consent.

“If you want Sigma, I wouldn’t be opposed to showing you why Fyodor keeps me around after the suns sets”

You tease at him as sigmas face instantly turns into that of shock. You smirk and shuffle away, giggling as he whacks your head with force.

“As if I’d even consider getting into a bed with a freak like you, go mess around with Nikolai or something, because I have work I need to catch up on.”

You watch as he struts away, his heels clicking against the tiles of the Sky Casino. You were only half joking about getting into bed with Sigma, he was defiantly a sight for sore eyes.

You can imagine just how livid Fyodor would be if he found out though, after all you were his property by contract.”

“Oh well, I guess I better go collect Nikolai, we’ve got a long few weeks ahead of us.”

I feel like I didn’t do this idea justice at all wtf I’m so mad abt this. The original idea I had for this was a LOT more spicy though so ig I can’t really help it 😒

[inkpot909]

Their Favorite Part of You Headcanons (Jotaro Kujo, Noriaki Kakyoin)

↳ Reader is written as gender neutral. It’s stated that the Reader goes along with the crusaders on their trip to Egypt (+takes place after the journey as well). Everyone lives AU.

A/n: Wow, I actually posted something! Jokes aside, this summer has been rough so I’ve been trying to take it easy when I can. I missed writing, though, and hope y’all enjoy.

Warning(s): Slightly suggestive content.

Jotaro Kujo

He appreciates your eyes best.

Considering the apparent intimacy that results from direct eye contact, it makes the question an easy one to answer.

In fact, it’s highly probable your eyes were what he first noticed about you upon the initial meeting. Whether he has to bend his neck downward or you manage to stand at eye-level, it’s a moment he’s likely replayed over and over in his mind.

Another reason behind this choice is also a simple one (If you ask Jotaro, at least).

He didn’t fall easy and not at all for shallow reasons. Many of his classmates throughout high school would fuss over him seemingly due to his outwardly appearance and reputation. Because he was the ���popular guy to like,” a diverse range of people were noticeably into him.

And taking into account how much he loathed a particular group of girls that would follow him around constantly, his perspective on love doesn’t tolerate anything he would deem shallow.

So, in short, what he cherishes most about you tends to be very personal to who you are.

It also plays into his communication preferences. Unsurprisingly, he tends to stare at you…. a lot.

It was definitely awkward in the early stages of your platonic-at-the-time relationship.

Throughout the duration of the journey to Egypt, you’d lost count of the times you’d stand face-to-face without a single word being exchanged. He didn’t ever wince or turn away, and you fondly recall the sheer intensity of those moments having kept you perfectly still.

Understanding Jotaro better as an individual- as well as how he feels about you -progressed his stares into something you find to be heartwarming. Just catching him in the act makes your heart leap, and your mind reels with wonder over what’s going through his head.

A little over a year after the aforementioned trip, and a relationship forms. It’s by then that he finds himself okay with getting lost in your lovely irises.

Your light giggle when you finally meet his gaze, flustered and gentle… it’s worth it. He always catches the moment your smile reaches your eyes, slightly creased by upturned lips. It’s a breathtaking sight, having twice now caused a cigarette to fall from his mouth while watching in awe.

His knack for nonverbal communication is pretty much universally understood by the few especially close to him. However, when it comes to you specifically, it reveals a rather bashful approach to the relationship that you might not have expected. It makes sense, as the likelihood of you being his first love is... more accurately labeled a certainty.

Jotaro can be observant after forming a connection with someone. When it comes to you, this is definitely the case. Any excuse to look at you is fine in his book.

However, it’s been long-established that he’s not exactly chatty, so he responds best to reactions he can see with his own two eyes. And it’s in the depth of your pupils that he finds doing so the simplest (If not simple, it’s at least selfish given his own bias).

The main aspect of this type of communication involves him looking at you intensely while his body language makes the tiniest adjustments in order to voice whatever he’s thinking.

For example, him holding out his palm to you, as his eyes cling to your person, is his way of asking you to hold his hand. He trusts that you know him well enough to get the point. And while you work on decoding his own subtle actions, his gaze never once pulls away from yours.

He simply cannot help it; there’s really something special about your eyes. He searches for your gaze constantly, and lingers for as long as he possibly can. It’s as if he’s always seeking your approval, reaction, and attention.

Now, as the relationship turns serious, he prefers to keep his eyes locked on you whenever he can. Once the two of you start becoming intimate, it’s quickly apparent he likes positions where he can keep his face close to your own. Or at the very least, hold eye contact.

Jotaro’s shockingly passionate, holding your hand in his own while he directs his hips accordingly. Lips slightly parted and gaze locked onto yours without fault. The emotion radiating from him is nothing short of immovable devotion.

Noriaki Kakyoin

Asking him this question yourself garners a flushed appearance and a hasty answer. He’ll stutter, telling you it’s your voice that he likes best. From the way it’s delivered you wouldn’t be able to tell if he’s practiced his response in advance or simply grasping at straws. Still, it’s an adorable sight and your quite pleased with his reply. Seeing your reaction, Kakyoin would feel a hint of shame.

Because he would be lying though his teeth.

He wouldn’t dare admit it initially, least of all to you, but he loves the sight of your legs.

Perhaps you tend to have them exposed. If that’s the case, he’s ashamed that he noticed such a thing so early on. A lump made its home in his throat that day, halting his words and making his mind run wild.

Or alternatively, you may mainly keep them hidden. Whatever it was that first prompted you revealing your bare legs- a couple hours at a hotel pool possibly -he undoubtedly finds himself sneaking more glances in your direction than usual.

It’s going to take him a bit to mentally process this.

Even in it’s more innocent connotations, he cannot help growing flustered. He just can’t help but find it a bit risqué. Although not exactly self-prescribed, despite his occasional arrogance, Kakyoin is certainly the gentleman type. Far from the kind of guy to be caught eyeing up someone’s legs in any shape or form.

That being said, the closer you become, the more difficult avoiding it gets. He focuses so much of his energy on not even glancing at your legs that he does, in fact, notice them quite often.

It doesn’t help being stuck in a car for hours on end right next to you. Thighs brushed against one another by sheer circumstance. It didn’t matter how many times it occurred throughout the trip to Egypt, he would think about it afterwards each time.

And it took only one sly comment from Polnareff or Mr. Joestar to prompt a myriad of fierce denials from the redhead. They’d egg him on, speaking a bit too loudly about how he’s “checking you out.” His cheeks would turn fiercely pink while rushing out a defense, which did not do much to help his case.

Eventually, the journey reaches its end. The group inevitably dissolves, but the two of you remain very close after the fact.

By then, your feelings for one another are certainly apparent. It’s hard for you to deny it when the excuse of looming danger is no longer present, and in turn he couldn’t imagine any other reason as to why you clung so close to him during his recovery period.

And even after becoming an official couple, understanding how to express his affection is met with bashfulness and hesitancy. If you’re inexperienced like him, it’ll likely be comforting for you. If you aren’t, it probably comes off as endearing.

Yes, you both have explicitly admitted to each other how you feel. Will Kakyoin still keep himself from eyeing you in any way? Absolutely.

A discussion will likely need to be had between the both of you before he loosens up a bit. A clear omission that you like him looking at you will help put his mind at ease (Man’s so smitten he feels guilty noticing that your beautiful god bless him).

Once he grows used to the relationship and starts showing just how touch-starved he is, the favoritism he holds for your legs finally becomes clear to you.

He’ll snuggle between your legs while he games, perfectly content within your hold. Even if you fall asleep, he doesn’t necessarily mind.

A lot of the clothes he buys for you leaves your legs exposed. The expression of awe he has whenever you wear something he’s bought is special to that occasion only. A strange mix of adoration and pride.

You also start catching him on his stares. Teasing him over it is a sure way for you earn a blush, as well as a weak comeback. However, the smile adorning his features exposes fondness. Only you’re allowed to say anything, though.

As intimacy blooms, he gladly indulges himself more. It strengthens his confidence in his actions, and turns the tides. Moving frustratingly slow, he glances up at you after leaving an array of kisses and bites up your inner thighs. All while he’s mumbling sweet nothings, pure honey oozing from his hushed tone.

Of course, he adores everything about you. But there’s a certain vigor in his actions when he continues moving upward that’s hard to miss.

[yazmarina]

i wanna roll with him, a hard pair we will be

zak o'sullivan (f2) x fem!reader

your best friend is a monaco race winner. you find out winning turns others into totally different people

warnings/notes: smut, mutual masturbation, dry humping

a/n: this is very self indulgent okay let me have my zak moment,,,and this turned out much dirtier than expected LMAO okay bye

.

You weren't even supposed to be here. The flight, accommodation, and paddock pass were almost too much, and you debated just dropping the plan altogether.

But Monaco is special to a lot of racing drivers. Symbolic in the way that it holds history and is the place of many victories. It's special to him.

So, you bite the bullet, book the tickets, and grit your teeth through the exorbitant amount that turned up on your credit card record. You only live once, live in the moment, viva la vida, whatever.

You're here now in Monte Carlo, in arguably the best seat you could afford with what you had after months of saving and weaseling a loving loan from your parents. Watching the race. Watching Zak.

You arrived early this morning, rushing to your hotel, and packing what you needed for the day. You tried to get some shut-eye, managing to get barely three hours of sleep. And then off to the track you went.

Zak doesn't know you're here. You had to lie through your teeth to your own best friend. You told him Monaco just wasn't in the cards and that you'd see him race some other time. In Silverstone, maybe, or Monza.

He has no clue that you're sitting here, with bated breath, as the lap count ticks down with every minute. Zak is leading but he hasn't pitted yet, and they're about to enter the second to the last lap of the race, and what the fuck are they doing not pitting him yet?

Then it happens, almost too quick for you to register. The large screen in front of your section shows a collision. Yellow flag. Virtual safety car.

You're confused for a moment, shocked exclamations erupting around you, but then you see it happen. Zak pits in the midst of the safety car, rushes out, and comes out a second ahead of the whole pack.

You don't even notice how loud you gasp as you finally realize what's happening. One more lap to go and Zak is leading.

The seconds seem to tick by awfully slow yet the race is coming to an end right before your eyes. The checkered flag waves and he crosses the line and the crowd erupts in cheers, mixed with disbelief and genuine awe.

His team gambled and he walked away with the jackpot.

Zak O'Sullivan, Monaco race winner.

Everything played out in one big blur after. You were clapping, then you were crying, running, squeezing through people, pushing, praying that you get to the paddock unscathed.

You pause for a second in front of a screen to watch the champagne spray around Zak on the podium. He's beaming, still in awe himself. You feel the tears come once more and you sprint through the throngs of people and down the streets of Monte Carlo.

You arrive at where the team support trucks are, growing nervous with each step. You came alone and sure, some of the ART people knew who you were, but without Zak, you're feeling a little lost.

You stop in front of the ART truck and it's quiet, as you expected, with all of the employees probably down at the podium celebrations. A pair of personnel clad in the team kit exit the vehicle just as you contemplate contacting Zak's trainer.

"Hi," one of them greets, a sprightly young woman around your age greets. Probably one of the communication people.

"Are you here for Victor or–"

"Zak," you rush out. "I'm ______, his friend. I've gone with him back in Bahrain and Jeddah this year, but I came just this morning so..."

"Oh! Yes, it's you. I remember now, Zak's friend, yeah," the other cuts in. "He was pretty bummed out today, saying something about how you couldn't make it?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. "Yes, that's me. I wanted to surprise him."

"Well, consider me surprised."

You turn around, your heart leaping into your throat. Standing there is the best friend himself, drenched in champagne and holding his winning trophy to his side.

Zak rushes to you and pulls you into a hug, handing off his trophy momentarily to the employees. You feel his arms circle around your waist just as you feel the rest of your tears fall.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper as you bury your face into his shoulder.

"I thought you couldn't make it," Zak says, pulling away slightly to peer at your tear-streaked face. "But my luck just keeps getting better, huh?"

You meet his eyes and you can see the sparkle of victory in his irises. He grins down at you and pulls you in again, swaying you from side to side.

"Zak, we need a bit more media from you," comes a voice calling out from further down the paddock.

"I'll be a minute!" Zak calls over his shoulder, slipping his hand in yours. "Take my trophy with you but be careful!"

You giggle, glancing behind to see the ART personnel shake their heads in disbelief.

"Come here a second," Zak says, pulling you toward the entrance to their makeshift motorhome for the weekend.

You step inside, familiar with how the interior is, having seen something similar from when Zak was still in Prema last year. You're usually not allowed inside, but riding off a win, you suppose no one dared argue with Zak.

The door shuts and Zak turns to look at you. His eyes scan your face, a smile growing wider on his lips.

"You're here," Zak states as if still not believing it.

"I'm sorry I lied," you admit sheepishly. "I wanted to surprise you, maybe comfort you if the race doesn't go as planned."

Zak chuckles, stepping closer and taking your other hand. You take a good look at your best friend and you feel yourself tear up again.

"But I'm here to celebrate your first podium, a win in Monaco, instead. How about that?" You finish, letting out a breath as Zak takes ahold of your face, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

"How about that, indeed," Zak repeats, tilting your head up so you're looking at him.

You're quite familiar with how success can make you do uncharacteristic things. It makes you reckless, unboundedly giddy. Drivers lock lips with their significant others in front of the camera after a win. Shirts discarded. Champagne poured down their bodies.

Oh, but you're not Zak's girlfriend. There are no cameras.

But you taste the champagne just the same as Zak pulls you in, kissing you with so much force it drives you back against the door.

You reach behind you, still having the presence of mind to turn the lock and bar anyone from walking in on you and Zak.

You grab at the half-undone collar of Zak's race suit, tugging the zipper down in one fell swoop. Zak pulls away, long enough to shrug his suit off, just enough so it hangs under his hips.

You understand now, that underneath it all, success makes you horny.

"Zak," you begin. "What...wait–"

Your best friend pauses, breathing heavily, hair mussed up and lips shiny from kissing you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want him with every fiber of your being.

"We can stop," Zak offers, reaching out tentatively. He brushes some strands of hair away from your face.

"I just...I was really lucky today and I thought maybe I should just gamble one more time," he explains, trailing his fingers down the side of your face, to your neck, fingertips lightly brushing against your collarbone.

You get it. Or you think you do. He wants you, too.

You pause. You turn it over in your head for a second. What this means for the both of you. If you do this, you step out of this truck as something different from when you entered.

"Come here," you whisper, grasping the back of Zak's neck before leaning in to kiss him again. He groans, large hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against him.

You can feel him poking through his fireproofs and you moan into the kiss, grinding hard against the stiffness. Your dress hikes up as you wrap a leg around Zak's waist.

"Fuck," he curses. "I didn't...god, have I had a boner all this time?"

You giggle, rubbing even more on Zak. He groans, throwing his head back, his hold on your waist almost vice-like.

"Winning does that to you," you whisper, kissing along his defined jawline.

"My race winner," you say right next to Zak's ear, biting down on his earlobe after.

Zak buries his face into the crook of your neck, rutting against you, desperate for release. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug lightly, whimpering as the friction through your underwear increases.

"Oh god, look at us," you mutter hurriedly. "Grinding and humping like a bunch of horny school kids."

"I'm gonna cum," Zak warns, pulling off slightly before reaching into his fireproof bottoms. He pulls his length out, pumping furiously.

You pull your dress all the way up to your stomach, tugging your underwear away just enough to let Zak have a view of how drenched you are. Your fingers reach down to circle around your clit as Zak continues to jerk off.

"Cum in them," you offer, gesturing to your panties. "I'll keep it on the whole day."

Zak's mouth hangs open as he finishes all over his fist and into the fabric of your underwear, the delicate material catching his sticky release. The sight of the mess pushes you over the edge yourself, your knees buckling slightly as you try to keep yourself upright through your euphoria.

You retract your hand from between your legs, panting and noticing you've worked up a sweat, as if you had just gone for a long, very sexually-charged jog.

Zak looks at you and smiles, taking your soiled hand and licking your fingers clean off. He winks as his lips let go with a pop! and you reach over to smack him in the chest.

"Naughty," you grumble, though you're grinning just as wide.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Zak taunts, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sigh against it and savor it all: Zak's touch, the smell of champagne on his skin, and the glow that seems to envelop you two now.

"They're probably looking for you," you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I'll be back," Zak reassures, stepping back. He stills for a moment and takes the image of you in once more before kissing your cheek.

"Wait here, yeah?"

[retroellie]

Looking out for you

Summary: When the whisperers are knocking at your door, a war is just waiting to happen. However, this war goes far beyond just a war this time.

A/N: Hey :) i wrote this a while back but i just decided to finish it. I was going to write a smut for it but honestly i was not in the mood for smut today, so here's a little fluff/angst for your day <3 Also i miss y'all so much!!

Warnings: regular TWD content, mentions of miscarriage and death

Word count: 3.5K

Tomorrow is the day, the day you will experience the place you once called home become a battlefield, the people you love become soldiers, and the world feels as though it is ending once again. You didn’t want this war, no one did but the whisperers wouldn’t let up. They were a tough group, very different than any group you have ever been up against but your people were even stronger, you have all been through hell and back.

You would not let the whispers destroy your home without a fight, none of you would. You all have experienced loss too many times, Glenn, Rick, Jesus, Carl… the list goes on. You were all angry, ready to pounce on anything that came too close. You all knew it needed to be done but you didn’t want to, you were against it. You had been fighting for so long, so hard that you were exhausted. You think you're becoming depressed, more depressed than usual.

The other wars you fought were different, no one depended on you, you weren’t too close to anyone. Sure they were your family but if you died, you’d just be another name on the wall at Alexandria. This time it was different because you had someone who depended on you, you had people who depended on you. You had Lydia, rj and Judith, the entire community of hilltop all looking at you but most importantly, you had Daryl.

You guys had made it official before Ricks disappearance, it wasn’t anything too romantic but the night started with you two checking around the walls of Alexandria and it ended with Daryl tongue fucking your face. You both had been close with each other, looking out for each other and making sure the other was safe. So it was almost like you two had already been dating, the kiss just made it real for the two of you.

But he was why the war this time was different, if you lost him… you couldn’t recover. You swore the sun would stop shining, water would evaporate and never come back down, buildings would burn and your world would completely stop. You thought it would be bad to lose him but oh… if he lost you. He had already planned on going with you, you weren’t going to leave him by himself again, he refused. Even if you didn’t lose each other, you would still lose something in this war.

You had a bad feeling about this, you knew it would bring great loss this time around and grief wouldn’t be too kind to you. So here you were, in the middle of the night when everyone else was asleep, only the patrols were wide awake… searching for any movement to sound the alarm. You were sitting on the porch stairs, watching as the wind blew through the leaves of the trees. It was a cold night, so you lit up a cigarette to keep you warm.

It was the first time that you were able to think, the silence of it all leaving you alone with your thoughts. You were terrified to say the least, you had never felt this way about anything, not like this. You could tell everyone was on edge, even Daryl. When you saw the look on his face when he came through the gates with Lydia, he tried to hold back his fear but you knew. That was the first time you had ever seen Daryl scared, which automatically set deep fear within you.

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” A voice said, startling you.

You turned to see who it was, but slowly calming as you saw it was just Daryl. He tried to give you a warm smile but you were far too scared to even acknowledge it. You turned around, back to where you were looking before. You forgot how beautiful fall months could be, the leaves had already started to turn into beautiful shades of red, yellow, orange and brown.

You just shrugged, taking a long drag of the cigarette before exhaling. You didn’t care if you froze where you were now, the beautiful view making you feel at peace for a moment. You could hear Daryl shift behind you, seeing him from your peripheral. Daryl sat down next to you, the wood of the porch creaking as he did so. you wondered if you and Daryl did survive this, what would happen next? What enemy would you have to fight after this? How would the next fuck up start and were you even ready for it?

“Sorry, I haven’t been here for you, just so much going on.” He said, watching as you took another long drag of your cigarette.

He wanted to be here with you, desperately but as of right now everyone is looking up to you two for answers. Carol was a wreck, the king was now coming to terms with his cancer, Maggie wasn’t here, Jesus was dead, Tara was dead… it was only you two left now, you two made the shots now. Neither of you wanted this though, All Daryl wanted was to run away with you. To New Mexico… he even had a plan for it.

“‘S okay, I get it.” You said, passing your cigarette over to him.

Daryl took it, taking a long drag of it. He could taste your chapstick on it, the taste bringing back memories of the night spent pleasuring each other. Daryl could sense your nervousness, your fear or whatever you want to call it. You were usually quiet, you allowed others to talk and you would listen, Daryl swore he had been the only one to hear you speak more than 2 words but your quietness now felt off.

He knew you and he knew you well, he knew that you hid your emotions and that you hated talking about your feelings. But the thing you hated most was awkward silences, they were the loudest thing to you. You couldn’t even enjoy the silence because the awkwardness blocked it out, you hated them. So you allowing one to happen right now, hinted to Daryl that something was wrong.

“Rj today wore my vest, it was ten t…” he started, not being able to finish before you dropped a bomb on him.

“I’m scared Daryl.” You said, turning your head to face him for the first time.

Daryl felt his heart throb, you were doing something you hated the most and you were doing it with tears in your eyes. You’re staring at him and he’s staring back at you, the cigarette in his hand blowing smoke into his eyes but he never once looked away. He could see it on your face, pure fear.

“What?” He asked dumbfounded as you blinked slowly at him.

“I know what you're trying to do, trying to ease the silence but you can’t Daryl because you’re worried, it’s written all over your face” You started, reaching out for the cigarette. “So no Daryl… I’m not okay, I’m fucking scared.”

You took the cigarette, breathing in its air, allowing the toxic air to burn into your lungs. Daryl continued to watch you even after you had started looking up at the trees once more. He wasn't sure what was next to say, should he question you further or should you both just suffer in silence. Daryl hated that he couldn’t do anything for you, especially now. Everyone was scared, Everyone... and if you were scared then there was no hope for anything.

Daryl had left you alone a lot lately, allowing you to figure shit out alone and he felt terrible for it but this wasn’t the first time he left you alone. When Rick died he disappeared, you would visit him for a couple days but then you’d go back to being alone. It’s not that he wanted to leave you ever, things just got in the way. So you being terrified was bound to happen at some point, not being able to lean on someone else would eventually catch up to you.

Daryl looked down at his hands, seeing how they absentmindedly fidgeted together. You had that effect on Daryl, you made him feel like a scared teenager in love sometimes. He never quite knew what to say and how to say it, sometimes words would get lost in his head when he was near you.

“You uh… you want to talk about it?” He asked, stuttering out his words.

You weren’t the only one bad with feelings, Daryl could physically not get the words out but he so desperately wanted you to know he was there for you. He wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to say in this situation or if you would even want to speak about everything happening, again Daryl hadn't been around for you recently, he hadn’t been there for you.

“Not really…” you admitted, taking another drag of the cigarette. It had become a small bud at this point, but you once again passed it to Daryl. “But I will because you're my boyfriend and I won't leave you in the dark… not now.”

Daryl couldn’t even bring the cigarette up to his lips this time, he just stared down at the burning end of it. There was another awkward silence but it only lasted for a minute or two. You needed time to form your thoughts and calm your mind before you told him what had been aching in your mind for days now. You brought your arms together, wrapping them around your cold body as you rubbed warmth into yourself.

“What if this is our last fight?” You asked, biting your lip as you tried to hold back tears. “I mean, we’ve already lost so many people. Jesus, Tara, Henry…enid.”

Your breath hitched when enid's name fell from your lips, she was a little sister to you and losing her felt like it was the end of the world. She reminded you of Carl, so strong and knew exactly who she was. She was the last thing you had of Carl and now she was gone, you couldn’t bare to see her on that pole… it almost killed you.

“It’s only a matter of time before I lose you too, so what if this is it? What if we fight tomorrow and you end up getting stabbed or bitten… or you lose me.” You couldn’t stop the tears now, they flowed from your eyes as you looked over at him.

“We’ve fought before Y/N… this is just another hiccup.” He tried to reassure you but it didn’t help, it only made the anger build up in your heart even more.

“No Daryl… this is different because it’s not just us this time.” You said, trying to explain but it just didn't want to come out the way you wanted it to.

“What? Judith and rj? I mean Judith knows how to fight and rj won’t..” he started but you stopped him once again.

“Daryl… I didn’t mean them.” You said, wanting to let it all out of your system before it ate you up alive.

He was staring at your cigarette still in his hands, you were about to drop a huge bomb on him… even bigger than what you’d already dropped on him. You couldn’t lose him without him knowing though, he needed to know. You sighed, wiping your tears away from your eyes before setting your hands in your lap.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Daryl choked on his own spit, his face drained of blood and he dropped the cigarette. What the actual fuck, was all he could think. He had dreamed of getting you pregnant, so many times he lost count but it can’t be happening now… not now. He just stayed silent, it was the only thing he could do because he had no idea how he felt. He wanted to run away, he wanted to scream, he wanted to cry so he just stayed as still as he could.

“I thought maybe it was a stomach bug, I was throwing up every time I smelled food and I couldn’t keep shit down but then I realized I was late 3 weeks…” you explained, curing yourself up into a ball to make yourself as small as possible. “I know my mom was like this when she was pregnant with my siblings so I’m just putting two and two together.”

Daryl felt like the world was closing in on him, to add onto his shitty couple months he’s had you drop this on him. It’s not like he didn’t want kids with you but god damn he really wished he'd wrapped it up right now, so many bad things could happen to you right now. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted to make sure you knew he was here but he couldn’t. He was stuck frozen but his eyes had started to burn, from the smoke or from the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Shit…” was all he could muster up to say.

You chuckled at his reaction, watching as he slowly freaked out. You knew you were ready for a kid, you had been ever since you meant Daryl but it was the wrong time. You didn’t know if you could fight, the risks of you getting killed or you losing the baby was high. The whisperers didn’t fuck around, you knew what was going to come from this war. It wasn’t just you two now, you had someone depending on you and it wasn’t just Daryl or the others. With this is was different because the others can survive if you didn't, but this baby... it quite literally depended on your survival.

“Shit is right… you got me knocked up by Daryl Dixon.” You chuckled, wiping your tears with your sweater.

You both just sat in silence, allowing your words to consume the both of you. You felt you couldn’t breathe in this moment but at the same time you felt you could finally breathe, this overwhelmed you more than it did Daryl. You knew what risks could happen, the risks that Lori had and she died because of them. This world was cruel, it wouldn’t allow you to be happy, it wouldn’t let you be happy with the man you love and your child in your arms.

You never wanted to be a mother, you rejected that life but you can see it now. You crave it now, you crave coming home after a long day to see Daryl and your child passed out on the couch. You crave to walk into your child’s room, seeing Daryl reading to your sleeping child, then coming to your room to make love to you. You would have never thought you would want this but you were tired, you wanted to settle down with daryl. The silence was still hovering heavily in the air when you came back to earth from your thoughts.

“Daryl… please tell me what you’re thinking. You know I hate when you don’t talk to me…” You begged for him to speak, to tell you it was okay and that you had nothing to worry about.

“Think you should stop smoking.” He stated, as if he didn’t hear you.

You couldn’t help but get frustrated with him, you didn’t mean to, you just did. Maybe it was the hormones or the weight you were feeling but you wanted to scream at him. People would die, good people and you were both putting yourself at risk because of some petty drama with the whisperers. You were ready to leave this all behind you, you wanted to run away and all Daryl can think about is your health?

“Seriously? Daryl…” you sighed, face heating up. “People are going to die, we are risking our lives with this war and all you can think about is my smoking habit.”

You set your head in your hands, curling into a ball so hopefully the earth would consume you. You hated this feeling, the fear and the anger that you held in your chest. It weighs you down and you wanted it to stop, you wanted it to stop so badly that you could feel yourself tearing yourself apart just to ease it. Daryl looked calm now, his hands still fidgeting but he was calm… you hated how calm he looked because how could he be calm?

“Yeah, I’m looking out for you… just like I always have.” He replied, his voice laced with reassurance. “Y/N, have I ever not protected you? Have I ever left you? Left you without coming back?”

You looked over at Daryl, he was already looking back at you. His eyes were calm, like calm ocean waves that you could fall into if you weren’t careful. Daryl needed you to know he was here and he wasn’t going anywhere. He needed you to know, he didn’t care if he had to pound it into you or keep you up all night craving it into your skin… you needed to know. You shook your head, sure if you were to speak you would start sobbing. Daryl smiled, moving in closer so his legs were touching yours.

“Exactly, I never have and I don’t plan on doing it now.” He said, bringing his hand up to wipe your tears away. “People will die but they will die fighting for the future of Alexandria and hilltop, our future y/n. They are the ones who are going to give our kid a chance, it’s sad but it’s what has to happen.”

His hands were cradling your face, slowly caressing your cheeks as tears continued to stream down them. Seeing you like this, so broken down, had Daryl’s eyes prickling with warm tears.

“I will make sure we see another day, bunny… I promise that, okay?” He reassured, watching as you nodded, making it known you were trusting him.

He brought you into a hug, you melted into him. You couldn’t help the sobs that you let out, grabbing onto him with dead life. You were so scared but his words soothed your fears, now your tears flowed out simply because you were so in love with him. He always made sure you were okay, no matter what was wrong he always knew how to make you feel better.

You had hope of seeing another tomorrow, you could see you two going into war now. Hand in hand as you fought, fought harder than you ever had. You were going to see another tomorrow, you promised it. You were going to be selfish for the first time in years and you were doing this for you, you were going to survive for you. Daryl’s hand soothingly pet your head, massaging your scalp as you let your tears flow out of your eyes.

“We’re gonna be okay bunny…” he whispered, leaving small kisses to your hair line.

You nodded once more, taking in his words as you cuddled into him. You stayed like this for a bit, allowing the moment to take you in with loving arms. You broke away from the hug after the moment had felt like an eternity, you looked at him with tear filled eyes as they continued to pour out of your eyes. Daryl kept his hands on you, his hands slowly rubbing circles on your skin

“Daryl.” You said, almost in a whisper.

“Yeah?” He replied

You felt so many emotions, so many overwhelming emotions so it wasn’t surprising when you wanted Daryl to take you to bed and love you like it’s the last time. Your fear of the war still lingered even though it had been dulled, you still wanted Daryl to bore his words into your skin so you’ll never forget it. It would honestly just give you an excuse to forget everything.

“Whether we make it or not…” you started, watching as Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering what would come next. "I want you to take me to the bed room... and fuck me like it's the last time."

Daryls taken back by this, one minute you were in a tear-filled rant and now you are asking to be fucked. Daryl took a minute to realize you were being serious, seeing the lust that had taken over your eyes. Your tear-streaked face looking up at him with puppy dog eyes, he couldn't say no to you. Daryl smiled, standing up and handing you his hand.

"Anything for you..." He put it simply, watching you reach your hand out to connect to his.

The night was far from over, filled with "i love you"'s and the sound of the both of you moaning. You made sure if one of you hadn't made it, the other was carved into your skin. Obviously, Daryl knew this was not going to be the last time you were together, Daryl was a fighter and he made sure nothing ever happened to you, that mindset wasn't going to stop for him now. 

[sweetiepoison]

Famous Baby Blurb (The Night Out)

You threw your head back allowing the shot of vodka to burn as it went down your throat. You giggled leaning forward, placing the glass back down on the table.

“What number is that?” Willy yelled from across the table.

“8?” You questioned turning your head to look at Auston for confirmation.

“No!” He objected. “I think it’s 9.”

“No.” You protested back. “We had four at Mitch and Steph’s, two when we first got here, and then these two.” You gestured down to the four shot glasses on the table.

“Nuh uh” Auston shook his head. “We had one in the car over here too.”

You tried to remember the car ride to the bar but it felt like it was hours ago now and impossible to recall. “It doesn’t matter, we’re still tied.”

“You can’t admit you’re wrong.” Auston crossed his arms, smirking over at you.

“Yes I can.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you’re wrong and I’m right.”

“Auston,” you sighed “please just be grateful that I’m even talking to you.”

“You should be the one that’s grateful. Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your spot right now.”

“Enough for your inflated ego to talk about it.”

Auston shrugged pushing your now empty shot glasses to the edge of the table for one of the workers to pick up. “I’m just saying you should feel special.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m (y/f/n) (y/l/n), I don’t need anyone to make me feel special.”

It was now Auston’s turn to roll his eyes, “And I’m the one with the big ego?”

“Talk to me when you’re the number one artist in the world”

“Don’t need to worry about it, I’m the number one hockey player in the world.”

“Were options limited this past year?” Your sarcastic tone and tilt of the head didn’t phase Auston.

“They actually chose me based on my skill, not me performing with autotune and short skirts.”

“Sorry what was that” you cupped your left ear “I couldn’t hear you over my auto tuned song.”

Your song that has sat at the #1 spot on the charts for the past few weeks played through the speakers. It was perfect timing. You never got used to hearing your own voice or watching other people sing along to your words, but it was also the best feeling.

You smirked as Auston got up from the table without another word knowing that you won that conversation. You hummed along as ‘Thank u, next’ slowly faded into another song.

“Here.” Auston returned to the table sitting down another shot in front of you. “To inflated egos.”

You laughed, but raised your glass with his and threw the liquid back down your throat.

The night carried on much like the beginning, but somewhere along the way you lost count of your shots, but it got to a point where you no longer cared. You were beyond drunk, but this was the first time in a while you were actually able to enjoy yourself.

Your world tour was about to start up and you knew this was the only break you’d be having for a while. You planned to leave Toronto the next day, go back home to spend time with your family for a few days and then tour starts.

“She’s hammered.” Justin watched as you swayed to the music, holding onto Steph.

“At least they’re having fun.” Morgan commented, also watching all the girls giggle and dance together.

“How many shots did you guys end up taking?”

“Twelve, but she thinks it’s higher.” Auston explained, “she’s been cut off since midnight, I payed the bartender to replace all of her drinks and shots with water.”

Both Morgan and Justin shared a look and then put their attention onto Auston.

“What?” Auston asked noticing the way they were looking at him.

“That’s just a nice thing to do for someone you hate.” Morgan shrugged not wanting to make it a big deal.

“I figured her getting alcohol poisoning would put a hold on the whole tour thing. Consider it community service.”

“Well, thank you for your service.” Morgan chuckled standing up, “but I’m getting Tessa and we’re going to go home before she damages something.”

As morgan approached the group of girls to grab his wife you all immediately began booing and begging him to let Tessa stay a little longer. When it became clear your pleas weren’t going to work you all made your way back to the group.

You attempted to place your glass down on the table but it slipped out of your hand and landed with a thud on the ground.

“Okay.” Justin picked up the glass. “That’s it your done for the night.”

“No.” You pouted crossing your arms. “I out drank Auston, so now I’m celebrating.” You refused to take no for an answer leaning across the table to grab another glass.

“Nope.” Auston picked up the glass before you could reach it.

“Auston.” You glared at him from across the table.

“You won, there’s nothing else to prove, time to go home.” Auston leaned back, knowing there would be no argument and that his word would be final.

“Don’t talk to me like im a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

“Justin.” You huffed and turned too quickly toward your best friend causing you to stumble, but the mishap didn’t stop you, “Tell Auston to shut up.”

But before he could respond Morgan and Tessa were back, “We have a problem. Papparazi are outside and they aren’t leaving until you two come out. Morgan pointed toward you and Justin.

“She can’t even walk straight right now.” Justin pointed at you leaning against the table for support.

“Okay then what do we do because we have about 30 minutes until this place closes.” Willy reminded all of you looking down at his watch.

“I can call and get one of my guys to pick us up out front.” Justin gestured between himself and Hailey. “But I’m not letting her go out there like this.” He gestured toward you.

“Tell Mike to come around to the back.” Auston learned your drivers name from earlier when he dropped you all off at the bar. You insisted he take you, not trusting anyone else. “I’ve got an idea.”

Once the plan was set into place, Morgan, Tessa, Mitch, Steph, Willy, and a few of the younger guys all left first. Justin and Hailey prepared to leave next, preparing you as well without you knowing.

“Trust me. You guys go out the front and at the same time I’ll take her out the back, they’ll never know.” Auston reassured Justin.

“She’s gonna fight you, once she realizes what’s going on.”

“I can handle her.”

As Justin and Hailey walked toward the front door you frowned realizing that they were actually leaving not going to get another round like you thought.

Auston picked you up and placed you over his shoulder before you could react. You immediately began hitting his back and yelling at him to put you down. He got you to the back where Mike was waiting and placed you in the car getting in after.

“Don’t ever do that again!” You yelled stressing the first two words.

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on it.” Auston put his hands up in defense.

“First off, I dont need you man handling me to get me out of a bar!” You yelled throwing your arms in the air, “Secondly, why did you wake him up?” Your finger flew toward the front seat.

Mike had been working as your driver since the beginning and more often than not where you went he followed. However, you never liked to make him stay up late just for you.

“You couldn’t stand up straight, let alone walk.” Auston fired back his voice also rising to match yours. “And it was either wake him up or your picture would be on the front page of every magazine tomorrow morning, drunk and stumbling.” Auston didn’t expect you to be overjoyed with how things went down, but he didn’t intend for you to be so ungrateful.

You knew you were wrong, but being stubborn was something you were good at. And you weren’t ready to apologize yet, so you crossed your arms and shifted your body so you were facing the window.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or all the bumps in the Toronto streets but you soon began to feel sick.

“Mike, can I please have a bag?” You asked waiting for the plastic bag to be handed back. As soon as it was you were throwing up into it.

You felt hands that could only belong to Auston bundle your hair into a ponytail as he held it out of your face. You wished you only got sick once, but unfortunately it was three more times before you sat back up. You tied up the bag and placed it on the ground and wiped your mouth.

“Thank you.” You mumbled as Auston let go of your hair and sat back in his seat.

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. The car fell back into silence and that’s how it remained for the rest of the drive.

The next morning you left Toronto very early, but not before you dropped off a gift at Scotiabank arena. Auston arrived to afternoon practice expecting it to be a tough one, but what he didn’t expect was the envelope waiting in his locker for him. It was blank except for one sentence ‘thank you and I’m sorry’

He opened up the envelope and smiled at the contents. Inside were six vip tickets to your show in Arizona along with backstage passes.

It was over three months ago when Auston explained that his little cousins loved you and wanted to attend your concert but it sold out before they could buy tickets, of course this admission was also followed by a jab about him not understanding why anyone would want to see you. But you remembered the conversation and figured it was the start to an apology.

He tucked the envelope into his bag and sent you a quick text. ‘Thanks, I’ll see you in Arizona’

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : HOW DO WE FIX THIS?

You were running late and he was going to hate you for it but he’ll understand eventually. He knows that when working on a new album, it takes time and dedication, so he’ll definitely understand.

You rush out of your car, slamming the door shut, making sure you lock it behind you and storm inside your shared home.

“Jack?” You yell out, taking off your coat and throwing it on the hanger. “Jackman, are you down here?”

You head to the kitchen and see the dining table beautifully set up with rose petals and candles scattered around. There’s food on the table as well and a flower arrangement but still no sign of your husband.

You look around the kitchen and notice all the pots in the sink, smiling to yourself because you can already picture him around the kitchen. Jack is definitely not a cook, he has a hard time following your recipes, but it’s the thought that counts.

You see a little notepad sticking to the fridge door and head to it, “Went to pick up the kids.”

You start washing dishes and picking up the kitchen real quick, as soon as you put the last dish in the rack, you hear little footsteps running inside.

You smile and head to the living room, “Are those my babies?”

“Momma.”

“Mommy.”

Both kids tackle you to the floor and hug you. “Oh I missed you guys. How was your day with grandma?”

“It was so fun” Mia starts, “we painted and watched movies, then tio Clay came over and we played water balloon fight.”

You smile at that, brushing her hair out of her face. “That sounds like a fun day bug.”

Ez nods “it was super fun momma, but I missed you and daddy.”

“Well how about we all cuddle in bed and watch some movies huh?” You suggest, the kids start nodding in excitement.

“You two little monsters need to shower and head to bed early.” Jack says, reaching for the kids.

“But daddy, we wants cuddles and movies.”

“I know little man, but tomorrow we have a busy day, so head upstairs and get your towels. I’ll be there in a sec.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, staring at Jack but he doesn’t even look at you.

You stand up and smile down at the kids. “Háganle caso a su papá.”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” They both say and run away to do what their dad asked.

“What’s tomorrow?.”

“What?”

“You told them tomorrow is a busy day, what’s tomorrow?” You ask him.

He scoffs. “Tomorrow is our annual family trip.” He rolls his eyes. “You know, the one you’ve been planning since last year.”

“Shit, I totally forgot about that.” You groan and mentally slap yourself.

“Yeah I can tell, you’ve been doing that lately.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been super busy with this album and I know that isn’t an excuse but-“

“Then don’t make it an excuse, I need you here, present with us. How many times did you give me shit for spending all my time working and not putting our family first?” He snaps.

“Jack-“ You shake your head, going up to him trying to wrap your arms around him but he pushes you off.

“You out of everyone should know how important it is to leave all that shit outside the door. When we’re here is for us and our kids. You haven’t been around to know that Ezequiel lost two teeth, or that Mia won her kickball game, a game she hates.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m a bad mom.” You whisper and wrap your arms around yourself.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He takes a deep breath. “Balance and communication is all I’m asking for.”

“DADDY WE READY.” Ezequiel yells.

“On my way little man.” Jack yells back.

He turns to look at you, kissing your forehead. “I love you, you’re the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I’ve given you time to work on your projects, but you haven’t been here. We either find a way to fix this, fix us. Or there’s no more us.”

You snap your head his way. “W-what does that mean?”

“You know what it means.” He shrugs.

“You don’t understand, you think this is easy? You don’t know what I’m going through.” You snap with tears rolling down your face.

“Yeah because you don’t tell me anything anymore.” He replies sadly and walks out, heading to your kids.

“Because if you knew, you’d hate me.” You whisper after he leaves.

•••••••••••••

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[ficnation]

“Your dad’s an asshole” Part 2 - Carl x Reader

Request: “Carl x son of negan. Where they meet when Negan goes to get supplies for the first time from Alexandria and Negan’s son keeps flirting with Carl and Carl gets flustered and acts like he hates it, because y’know son of NEGAN, but eventually they go on a sort of date and kiss? Just fluff with a lil angst? Whatever works for you xoxo”

requested by @thatcucumberwhore

Word count: 2,2k+

Pairing: Carl Grimes x Male! Reader

Warnings: usual twd themes (e.g gore, cursing)

A/n: Your relationship with Carl develops but you still have a long way to go. Also I do plan on writing some kind of an epilogue to this lil series eventually but it’s gonna take a while. Hope you enjoy it!

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The only times you could see Carl was when you snuck out in the middle of the night or when your father wasn’t around. You always met halfway in the woods, not far from the main road that led from the Sanctuary to Alexandria. It wasn’t exactly safe for either of you, but if it was the only way you could see each other, it was a risk you were willing to take.

It was surprising how similar you were despite your different personalities. You’ve both lost your mothers at the start of the apocalypse, and your dads changed drastically because of that. You had to grow up far too quickly, drowning in loneliness with no one your age to talk to. Those things made you fit like two puzzle pieces—meant to be.

The forest hummed around you when you strode off the main road and into the surrounding trees, all but invisible from the outside world. You were careful not to step on any of the fallen twigs, afraid of making too much noise.

The sky above was dark and cloudless, yet you could only see a few streaks of light coming from the stars here and there. The crowns of the trees were far too thick to let anything more shine through them.

This part of the woods was usually peaceful—as peaceful as it could be in a world infested with the undead. But that didn’t mean you could feel safe or let your guard down. Even if there was no visible sign of threat, you had to keep your eyes and ears open.

You sat down under one of the many trees, mindlessly playing with a stray twig. You waited and waited, but time didn’t seem to pass fast enough while you waited for Carl to show up.

The darker the sky got, the more you started to worry.

But the moment you heard the familiar sound of careful footsteps, your eyes roamed around wildly. You couldn’t help the cheerful smile that spread across your face when you recognized the silhouette in front of you.

“Hey…” you greeted him, waving. Carl returned the gesture as he walked over to sit beside you, taking his spot under the tree.

His light brown hair seemed to glow under the dim moonlight, and his eye sparkled with happiness that only your presence could bring out of him. His cheeks were pink from the cold wind, and the thin material of his plaid shirt did nothing to warm him up.

Carl smiled at you and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s almost midnight,” he stated, gazing at the starry sky.

It was indeed getting darker and darker every second. Your breath hitched slightly as you watched the clouds move in front of the moon.

“You’re lucky I didn’t wake up Judith when I fell on my ass jumping out of the window.”

You grinned at his joke before looking down at your feet. “Yeah…” you trailed off.

It had been so long since you’d seen one another with the constant war between your communities, yet there you were, alone together at midnight, gazing up at the moon.

It felt so strange and different to be with him like this. It made you feel more alive and more relaxed than you ever had before. No stress or anger could ruin it because you both knew where you stood; no matter the hatred between your people, you agreed you wouldn’t let it influence your friendship.

Carl stared up at the sky, lost in thought, as he watched a shooting star pass by. You looked up, too, following the path of the bright star.

“That’s nothing in comparison to the way you shine,” you stated, a confident smirk already growing on your face.

You knew very well what would follow your words. The blush on Carl’s face was barely visible in the darkness, but the way he nudged your arm with his elbow assured you it was definitely there.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, and for some reason, it was the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah? Or what? You’re gonna kiss me?” The world around you froze the moment those words left your mouth. Damn, you hated yourself for speaking before thinking.

The silence that suddenly fell between the two of you was more than awkward. And you had no idea how to take those words back because you did want him to kiss you. You’ve been thinking for a while now how it would feel to brush your lips against his. Would they feel rough or soft against yours? Would Carl let you tangle your fingers in his soft hair?

You tried not to think about it, to repress those thoughts and keep them far away from your mind. But they always came back when you expected it the least. Even when you were just eating breakfast, the thought of kissing Carl and really being with him randomly popped up in your head.

“I’m sorry, it was just a joke. I shouldn’t have said that.” You chickened out.

Carl didn’t say anything, sitting beside you, deep in thought. You couldn’t read his face or his body language. He didn’t seem tense to you, but as far as you knew, it could just be your brain trying to let you keep some shred of hope.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm? Yeah, why?” Carl finally looked at you, waking up from his frozen state with a shake of his head.

You gave him a look, clearly not believing his words.

He sighed and shrugged. “I’ve missed you. More than I thought I would.” His voice dropped into a soft whisper. “When you leave I feel like there’s something missing.”

Carl’s eye met yours in the darkness. His words and the way he looked at you made your breath hitch. He must’ve noticed that because seconds after you exhaled, his lips were on yours, leaving a soft peck. When your eyes fluttered in confusion, it was his time to chicken out and pull away.

“Well, shit. Now, I should probably be sorry.”

You grinned at him, your hand landing in his hair, pulling him back into the kiss. Carl chuckled into your lips, responding with just as much confidence. As your lips touched, time stopped, and everything around you faded away; nothing else mattered at that moment except for each other. As your bodies pressed together, the tension you’ve been building up suddenly released in an electrifying rush.

The forest was still and quiet early in the morning before the light even touched the horizon. The riverbank nearby made soft noises, its rushing waters calming in their constant flow. The sun had not yet greeted the world, and the dew that had settled the night before was just beginning to vanish in the early morning’s heat. 

You chased Carl through the clearing, laughing quietly, playing a game of tag while you escorted him halfway home.

The dew from the grass had saturated your jeans, the moisture seeping into the fabric effortlessly. Your pants were almost soaked through from the ankles all the way up to your knees. A small puddle of water even seeped into one of your sneakers, your foot squelching with every step you took.

Despite that, you were fast on your feet, and just when you were about to catch the back of Carl’s shirt in your grasp, the groans of undead filled the air. Their sounds alone turned the peaceful early morning eerie. Their groans seemed to come from all directions, the sound somehow omnipresent, as if it came from within and without, surrounding you. You could feel your hair stand on end as the happiness evaporated from your veins.

Your companion stopped so abruptly in his tracks that you couldn’t stop in time and ran headfirst into him, the impact causing you to release an involuntary grunt. 

“Fuck,” you grumbled, your hand instantly grabbing Carl’s arm in a tight, protective grip.

You looked into the distance to the dirt road leading to Alexandria. A herd of walkers moved forward in the direction of Carl’s community, one of the biggest ones you’ve encountered in your life. Your breath hitched in your throat, your hand shaking. They marched in a line so long you didn’t see the end of it. 

“We gotta get out of here,” you whispered right into his ear, pulling his arm in the opposite direction. You had to get as far as possible from the herd. 

“No, I need to get home,” Carl sneered, stubbornly planting his feet on the ground beneath. He didn’t even give you so much as a glance. 

“Not fucking happening. Let’s go. You’re not coming anywhere near them.” Your voice was firm; it wasn’t a request. 

The young Grimes stood silently for a minute, observing the herd in the distance. He didn’t know what to do; if his dad noticed his disappearance, he’d panic and send people to look for him. He didn’t want them to walk into this death trap, but at the same time, there was no way he’d get through the walkers unnoticed. 

“Carl,” he could hear the slight shift in the tone of your voice. It became stern. You’ve never spoken to him this way before. He knew that he had no choice but to go with you.

Finally, he nodded his head and let you guide him the opposite way. You traveled in silence, on high alert at all times. Your eyes scanned the horizon, and your ears strained to listen for the slightest hint of danger. You couldn’t risk gaining the attention of any of the walkers. If just one noticed you, it’d all be over.

After hours of walking, you reached the gates of a community unknown to Carl. He looked quizzically between you and the tall gates, but you could see the annoyance and suspicion spreading through his face.

“You brought me to the Sanctuary? Right under your father’s nose?” he questioned, fuming. He quickly pulled his hand out of yours and stepped away from your reach. How could you do this to him?

For a moment, you were oblivious to his suspicions and looked at him, confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t play dumb!” Carl’s voice was booming as he stared you down, fists clenched.

Your eyes jumped from Carl to the community’s gates, then back to your companion again. You quickly understood what he feared. “Well, I’m flattered you think the Sanctuary looks like this.”

Carl seemed disoriented; he blinked fast as the hatred fell from his face. He felt terrible that it took just this to make him doubt you and withdraw his trust. The boy looked down at the dirt beneath his boots.

“I wouldn’t take you there Carl.”

He nodded, reassured by your words, but still didn’t raise his head. “I’m sorry, I just freaked out.”

You walked toward him, your hand gently grasping his chin to make him look at you. You pecked his cheek softly before pulling him towards the gates. “This is the Kingdom. We’ll be safe here and we can rest a little before going home.”

“Are you sure? How do you even know about this place?” he questioned but followed you without any resistance.

“Uhh…” You scratched your neck bashfully. “It’s a long story. I will tell you someday, I promise.”

Upon reaching the gates, the man on watch duty stood up abruptly, revealing the biggest, friendliest smile as he recognized your face. Waving you in, he called to someone else to let you inside. You slipped through the crack in the gates without waiting a second longer.

Carl observed as the unfamiliar man greeted you by name with his arms outstretched and his face full of joy. You rushed up to him, throwing your own arms around his solid frame, a playful fight unfolding between the two of you before you remembered about your companion.

“Jerry, this is Carl.” The man raised his eyebrow, anticipating that you’d add something more to the introduction. So you humored him, “My boyfriend.”

“Didn’t think anyone would like your overconfident ass,” he joked, letting out a deep chuckle as you clutched your chest in the feigned offense. 

“Me? Overconfident?” You snorted, crossing your arms. “Never.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jerry waved you off before changing the topic. “What brings you here so early?” 

“I hoped we could crash here for a few hours. We almost bumped into a herd,” you explained, your happiness faltering at the memory. 

“You’re always welcome here, you know that.” The man patted your shoulder reassuringly. He didn’t need more explanation. 

You smiled, nodding gratefully at him before your hand found Carl’s, and you pulled him down the path deeper into the community. 

“Come on, I know a place.”

You took him to a small clearing on the other side of the community, a makeshift garden nearby. You pulled him onto a comfortable hammock hanging between two apple trees. As the sun rose in the sky, you both basked in its warm glow and dozed off in peaceful slumber.

Even though you both would likely be in trouble once you reached your homes, the temporary escape was more than worth it. Carl’s company was worth all the trouble in the world. There was no place you wouldn’t have gone with him, no distance you wouldn’t have traveled, and no experience that wasn’t worth sharing with him.

Maybe someday, we can just live here.

TAGLIST

@thatcucumberwhore @yttricuz @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @humanmistakes @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff  @khaleesihavilliard @leafy-sprouts @spenceslovcr

[yallthemwitches]

An Act of Giving

Wrote this super quick for Jily Kinktober Day 5, prompt face sitting.

Would like to thank @daiz-nsfw for keeping the James munch agenda alive and well in this community. We thank you for your service.

AO3 Link here for all my Jily Kinktober work

“I hate to take you away from Lupin–I know you too really like to patrol together–”

“No, yeah, I get it. Don’t worry about it.”

“To be honest, I just wanted you to myself—”

Lily blinked at him. Michael continued to smile, either unaware of the implication in his comment or completely shameless. With him it was always hard to tell. 

“Evans— Wheeler…”

Lily whipped around. James jogged up to them, his tie undone so it was swinging to the side. 

“Potter,” Michael's face twisted from a cool confidence to smug in a matter of seconds,“ Did you come to turn yourself in for one of your antics or are you just wanting to chat?”

James flashed a smile. “Oh Mr. Head Boy, I hate to disappoint but I only tell my secrets to those who deserve it.”

Michael frowned back, getting more annoyed the longer they stood there.

“But really, Potter. What do you want?”

“Evans actually–.” 

Lily felt her face rush with color, not going undetected by either boy. 

“---she promised me she’d give me her notes for potions.”

It wasn’t his best cover-up, but at least it was half the truth. Lily caught the hint.

“Oh, right! So sorry, Michael but our exam is tomorrow and I really did promise him…”

She started to back away and both boys followed her movement.

“I left them in Slughorn’s office actually–was planning to go back for them anyways.”

The ends of James’ lips curved upwards. “Brilliant, lead the way.”

She nodded curtly at Michael who bounced his gaze between her and James, mouth set. 

“Ok–see you tonight then.”

Lily and James turned the corner before Michael could parse out that something was amiss. Not even a corridor away, James ripped open the door of one of the many empty classrooms and Lily ducked inside it. 

She sat against a table and watched as James locked the door and silenced the room, a clear sign that he had not had as studious intentions as he had put on for the Head Boy. 

“Don’t want anyone to overhear my very secret potions notes?” Lily taunted.

James walked slowly to her and her heart rate accelerated. She wasn’t an idiot, she saw the look in his eye the minute he had approached them. He wanted her. Wanted her badly enough to interrupt whatever she was doing to get her alone.

Once she was at arms length, he grabbed for her, hands weaving through hair, mouth running up her neck in open mouth kisses, absolutely lost in his own desire. Lily wrapped her arms over his shoulders to tug at the messy tangle of hair on the back of his head, leaning into his lips which had burned a path to her jaw. 

“I missed you,” he panted out, making it to her mouth. She nipped at his lower lip and he let out a low noise, hands tightening around her. 

“It’s been three hours.”

“So you were counting too.”

With no other comment, he dropped to his knees. Guiding her gently to sit against the side of the table, his hands slid down the length of her legs before curling around into her lower thighs. Lily gripped the sides of the table as he commenced a slow tortuous ascent towards her center, kissing her inch by inch. 

“I’m the one who should be on my knees,” she hummed out, “you’ve already gone down on me once today.”

“Shhh, Evans,” he said while preoccupied with leaving nip marks on her thigh, “who said there was a limit to how many times I taste you anyways.”

He traveled up to the bottom of her skirt, sucking a patch of purple into her skin as he used both hands to crumple the fabric up towards the waistband. Ungluing his mouth, he straightened up for a moment, lips already swollen from his work. He fingered the waistband of her knickers with a pointer finger, pulling at the elastic as his finger flexed and straightened, a movement Lily knew too well from feeling it inside her. 

“Mr. Head Boy fancies you, you know.”

He didn’t look up from where he toyed with her knickers, now pulling them down as slow as possible so the tips of his fingers skimmed against her skin. 

“I heard him in the locker rooms after practice—he’s going to ask you out. Said he was going to switch your patrols to get you both alone–”

Lily’s breath deepened as her knickers were carelessly thrown aside and James situated himself back between her legs, hands on either side of her inner thigh.

“Hmm, is James Potter jealous?” 

“I dunno, should I be? You still haven’t said yes to me–”

It was hard to take him at face value when he was hovering his mouth over her clit. He didn’t move to go any closer, letting his breath wash over her, making her impossibly wetter every second he stayed there. 

“Michael’s not the one who has made me come today is he?” she teased.

James just smiled, eyes now dark. His hands tightened against her skin, leaving small indents in the soft flesh. 

“Correction Evans,” the words sent a shiver through her middle all the way up to her head, “He’s not the one who will have made you come twice today.”

He gave a small lick to the top of her clit, a teasing gesture he knew would make her squirm. Her hand jumped into his hair, holding his face as close as possible, unwilling to let up until she got what she wanted. 

“Potter—please—”

He didn’t need any more convincing. Lily had had other blokes go down on her before in the past, but something was different with James. Even from the beginning, it was like he had a map to her body. Knew every little spot: the places that made her squirm and edge towards release and the places that made her come on command, like a shock to her system. She liked that he took his time. It was always hard to believe when boys said they liked the taste of pussy, but with James she really believed it. He savored his time between her legs, taking it as a sacred act, one that he very often did without any reward for himself. 

His tongue moved a bit more rough than usual, pulsing into her each time he passed over to the other side. He hoisted a thigh onto the blade of his shoulder, getting a different angle to suck and lap at her. She kept her hands tightly wound into his hair, eyes glazed as he stared back up at her with an expression she could only describe as euphoric. 

“That’s it baby—just like that.”

She could feel her release mounting like a crackling energy within her stomach, but James lifted his head, mouth open and glistening.

She heard herself begin to plead, “No–no, don’t stop. Don’t talk—just keep–”

“Will you fuck my face?”

That got her attention. Her eyes searched his for a moment, waiting for an elaboration.

“I want you to ride my face until you come,” he said matter of fact.

“Oh, Christ—yes.”

James scrambled onto his feet before climbing himself onto the table. He was still fully clothed besides his tie which had been long lost since they entered the room and the fabric of his pants strained to keep his erection captive. 

Lily stood and undid her skirt before walking to the end of the table where his legs dangled and pulled herself up over him. Crawling her way up his body, she dipped her hips over his groin so her center grinded up against his clothed cock. James let out a hiss, grabbing at her hips and holding her in place for a second longer before ushering her to continue her climb. 

Positioned so she was hovering just under his mouth, he latched his arms around her thighs.

“One of these days Evans, I’m going to tie you to my bed and see how many times I can make you come with my tongue–.”

Lily hummed and grabbed his hair, tugging his mouth to meet her clit again.

“---but today, I want you to use me. Don’t hold back. I want to taste the way you come when your hips are grinding into my mouth–”

She dropped her body onto him, effectively clipping off his words. The change in angle brought a whole new perspective to his talent. His tongue flicked upwards into her, absolutely relentless, swirling in and out. Her hips moved instinctually, just as they would on his cock. Hips rolling against his mouth, letting him reach from the tip of her folds to the bud of her asshole. 

She thanked Merlin he had the thought to use a silencing charm. She could feel her vocalizations coming out of her mouth, but it was like everything was put on hold other than the movement of him beneath her. She could have been screaming or completely silent for all she knew, the only thing that mattered was James’ tongue coaxing her rapidly to climax. 

She clenched his hair, tilting his head up and pushing him deeper into her. Her other hand reached back, finding his erection and cupping it through his pants. The action made her back arch like a bow, taut and ready to snap. 

“I’m so close–keep going—” 

James never stopped watching her, glasses now askew and eyes dark and determined. He clenched harder into her thighs and propelled her with the movement of her hips, aiding in her grinding. Her body started to shake from her nearing release and he thrust his tongue deep inside her, suctioning his mouth to give a soft suck to her folds. 

The light of climax bubbled over. She quivered on top of him, moaning out his name as her hips kept moving of their own accord. Only in the final comedown did she realize that her whole lower half had been clenched against him, now sore with effort. 

James threw his head back, catching his breath as Lily scooted herself down to lay her head against his shoulder. Still completely hard, she snaked a hand down to climb under his waistband, but he stilled her, holding it flat against his stomach. 

“Let’s just be still for a minute.”

He tilted his head up to kiss the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her middle. 

“If I knew you being jealous would make you so giving then I would have put up with Michael a long time ago—”Lily huffed against his shoulder.

A rumble came from James' chest. His arm tightening against her. 

“So you are still considering humoring our dearest Head Boy?”

He was trying to sound cool, but she could hear the uncertainty behind his words. Lily pulled her head up to look into his eyes. They were still pools of ecstasy, just as happy to lay on the table with her as he was to make her come, never asking for anything in return. She softly drifted her thumb across his lip, feeling the result of her climax wet on his skin. 

“No, but I will consider whatever I need to do to get you to tie me down so I can’t do my patrols with him.”

He smiled, like he was born anew.

“I’ll be happy to assist.”

[writingforstraykids]

All the times you fell in love with Minho

Pairing: Minho/Lee Know x fem!reader

Word Count: 3670

Summary: Falling for Minho has happened in small stages and some moments stuck out: helping you learn Korean, picking you up when it rains, or showing you around his hometown, and many more.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, slight angst, soft!minho, friends to lovers

A/N: This is just a collection of short "stories" that I might conclude to a fiction, filling the gaps one day. I hope you enjoy it!😊~Moon🌙

You can't exactly pinpoint the moment you knew that Minho was the one. It got lost in a blur of memories, loads of emotions, and incredible moments spent together for years. If someone would ask you what made you fall in love with him, though, you could think of a few moments…

One

It's already getting dark outside as you walk down the street next to your best friend. You shove your hands into your pockets and exhale softly, watching your breath dance through the air. "I can't wait to be back home." 

"Why are you suddenly in such a rush?" he asks confused. After all, you have wanted to go for a walk tonight. "I thought you liked this?" 

"I do," you clarify, laughing. "It's just getting really cold, and I miss my blanket." 

"Unbelievable," he teases you and gently pokes your side. "I thought we were getting dinner," he pouts. 

"We can still do that…on our way home?" you suggest, and he rolls his eyes at you. 

"Fine," he sighs dramatically and gently bumps his shoulder against yours as it starts to rain very gently. "You'll start melting now?" 

"You're an idiot," you groan, and he smirks, satisfied that he pissed you off. 

"Not really, you're just being ridiculous," he tells you, and you're about to protest when suddenly he stops walking. His whole expression changes, eyes lightening up and a wide smile covering his lips. "Hii," he says softly and crouches down. You frown softly and only now realize the cat strolling towards Minho. You stare at him as he scratches its head and talks to it in a voice you've only heard him do around children before. 

"Min, what if it's sick?" you ask worriedly, and he rolls his eyes with a soft groan. 

"Y/N, not everything outside of your flat is a danger, alright?" he reminds you before looking down at the cat again. "I mean, how could you be, huh? Such a sweet little baby," he cooes, and you have to bite back a laugh at how his whole demeanor changes. Cute. 

Two 

A frustrated groan leaves your lips staring at the page in front of you. It's been a few months since you moved here and your Korean was getting better, but you still needed to learn a lot. Your friend Felix knew the struggle and tried to help you out, as well as Chan since they were able to talk English with you in case you didn't understand. You were a quick learner, but this was taking a toll on you, and you've found yourself frustrated very often. You look up as Minho strolls into the kitchen and grabs himself a drink from the fridge. You flash him a kind smile, and he gives you one back before coming over. The thing with Minho was that your Korean needed work, and his English did. You two always tried to communicate but had to focus really hard to do so. Chan and Felix both pushed you to learn from each other often, and you were starting to get along much better than in the beginning. 

"Are you studying?" he asks you, switching to English and you nod tiredly. He looks at you and squints his eyes for a moment. "I can help?" 

"Yes, please," you answer, and he nods relieved as you answer in his language. "I don't know how to pronounce that," you say and point at the line in question. 

Minho gets himself a chair and sits down next to you, reading through the page before humming softly. He reads it out loud for you, and you try to repeat it. He chuckles at your first attempt, and you smack his arm in protest. 

"Hey, that's not nice!" you laugh. 

He grins. "My mistake," he says with a very adorable accent that makes you smile involuntarily. He lets you repeat word for word and becomes very patient with you. You feel at ease now, listening to his soft voice making sense of your chaos. When Chan and Felix get back from the company and see you two sticking your heads together over your book, they exchange a knowing grin and give you some privacy. 

Three

Minho glances at you as you look down at your phone, seeming a little sad. He gently nudges your side and tilts his head at you. "Hey, you're okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay," you nod, but he's not convinced. "I just miss home sometimes, you know? I love it here, I do, my job is amazing, and I can spend time with you guys all the time…but sometimes I miss home." 

Minho nods understandingly; he knows how it can get. "What do you miss the most?" 

"Right now?" you ask, and he nods. "That might sound stupid but my mum's cooking." 

"That doesn't sound stupid at all," he assures you. "My mum lives an hour away, and still, I miss it all the time." 

You giggle softly and shake your head at him. "I can't cook for shit; otherwise I'd solve the problem that way." 

Minho frowns at you. "Hello? You have a foive star Michelin here," he says, imitating Felix's accent and deep voice. "Tell me what you want, and I'll figure it out." 

"You're being serious?" you ask amused, and he frowns at you, almost offended. You know he can cook, but you didn't expect that. "Wait, really?" 

"For someone as smart as you you're surprisingly dumb sometimes," he tells you with a kind smile and pats your head, like you've seen him doing it with his cats before. "Don't worry, kitten, I got you." 

You search his eyes, and your heart warms at the thought of him cooking for you. "Okay," you say gently and send him your mother's recipe. 

Minho reads through it before jumping up. "Huh, easy as cake," he grins. 

"As pie," you say. 

"What?" he asks, irritated. 

"As easy as pie, Min," you clarify, and he pulls a grimace. 

"Correcting me even when I'm doing you a favor," he scolds you fondly.

"Hey, you told me to," you giggle. 

Minho opens the fridge and waves you off, taking out some ingredients. He meets your eyes across the room and smirks. "Cooking like a chef." 

"Shut up."

Four

You curse quietly to yourself as you look outside and see the rain pouring down on the streets, thunder rumbling through the air. Of course, you forgot your damn umbrella today. You never did, and somehow you managed to do so the first time in ages you could actually use it. Once you're done handling all the things for the upcoming tour of your friends, you push yourself up and pack your things. You'd be soaked the minute you stepped outside. 

In the elevator, you once more check your bag but still can't find your umbrella. You give up sighing and walk towards the exit, frowning as you spot Minho. "What are you doing here?" 

"Hello to you too," he says and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. 

"I thought you had dance practice," you tell him, confused. 

"Why would they need me?" he asks jokingly.

"You're the main dancer, genius," you snort. 

"Totally overrated," he waves you off. 

"Seriously, why are you here?" you ask, laughing. 

"Why? Would you prefer I'm somewhere else? Am I bothering you?" he asks, pouting. 

"What? No," you laugh and shake your head. 

"Sure sounds like it," he says before grinning. "When you came here, I promised Felix to take care of his friend. Since we all know you're made of sugar, I'm here to make sure you'll reach home in one piece." You blink at him, confused. "It's raining, and you'll simply dissolve, won't you?" 

"Idiot," you giggle. 

"Well, come on now, I have a dance practice to get back to. I'm the main dancer, after all," he tells you and earns a playful punch in the arm for it. Minho grins and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against him as he opens the umbrella and steps outside with you. You smile at the feeling of his body next to yours as he makes sure you're not getting wet. 

"Thank you for picking me up," you tell him gently. 

"I saw you forgot your umbrella," he tells you and smiles softly. "You're too young to die, dear, I had to come and get you." 

"Will you stop?" you laugh and pinch his side, making him squeak in surprise. 

"Stop this, or I might reconsider," he jokingly threatens. 

"You'd abandon me just like that?" you ask, covering your mouth in fake shock. 

"You? Never," he winks at you, and you quickly look away, feeling yourself blush. Gosh, not again. 

"You're a real gentleman, thank you very much," you say sarcastically, and a genuine laugh falls from his lips. You can't help but laugh as well, loving the sound of his sweet, happy giggles. 

Five

You nervously fidget with your hands as you get closer to Minho's bedroom door. Only five minutes ago it had seemed like a fun idea to actually learn a dance of theirs for once as Felix had so often teased you about. You used to love dancing growing up but haven't done it in a while. Chan suggested that you ask Minho for help, after all, he was their main dancer. You've watched him work quite often by now, knowing his ways to make things simple for his friends. Somehow, the thought intimidated you a little because Minho was amazing at dancing. You could only embarrass yourself, right? You give yourself a push and gently knock on his door. 

Only a few seconds later, he's at the door, opening it and looking at you surprised. "Y/N? Do you need anything?" 

"Maybe?" you chuckle and awkwardly look at him, not knowing how to say it. 

Minho squints his eyes at you before taking your hand and pulling you into his room, closing the door again. "What did you do?" 

"What?" you ask, laughing nervously. 

"Did you break something? Did you mix colors doing the laundry again and ruin another of Changbin's expensive shirts?" he asks, and you start laughing at him. 

"No, Min, please," you giggle and search his eyes. "I wanted to ask you for a favor, actually." 

"Go on," he nods and leans against his desk, gently blowing a strand of his hair out of his face. 

"I've been joking with Felix and Chan about learning a dance of yours," you tell him, and he looks at you curiously. "Channie suggested I'd ask you for help." 

"Any particular reason for it?" he asks, interested. 

"Boredom?" you shrug, and he chuckles softly. "I used to dance when I was younger, but I haven't done it in ages, so…I could use some help." 

He smiles gently, unable to hide his excitement about you coming to ask him for help. "When do you want to start?" 

"Right now?" you ask before quickly shaking your head. "If you have time. If not, we don't have to and-."

"Of course, I have time for you," he tells you with a genuine smile that makes your heart flutter a little. 

Only shortly after you find yourself in the practice room with him, a little intimidated by the huge mirror wall in front of you. Minho follows your eyes and contorts his face. "I hate them too, once you know the dance they're simply distracting." 

You chuckle softly and watch him as he starts talking you through the steps. Following his instructions is easy, he simplifies everything for you with silly metaphors that make you laugh. At one point, you can't quite follow his movement anymore, and he steps behind you, gently taking your wrist. 

"Here, like this. Twist it gently against your head and twirl your fingers to a fist as you do," he tells you and moves his leg between yours. "A little further apart," he says before his hand lingers over your lower back and corrects your posture. Your breath hitches as his fingertips brush against your skin as he tucks a loose hairstrand behind your ear. "Try again," he says quietly, and you repeat the last few steps he has shown you. He tilts his head at you softly as he watches you with trained eyes. You're not quite sure why he's smiling to himself until he speaks up again. "Very well, Y/N, you'd fit right in." 

"Stop it," you say, blushing softly at his clearly impressed expression. 

"I mean it. You're better than you think you are," he tells you kindly. 

Six 

"Oh! And just down here, I used to go after school when I didn't want to go back home already," he tells you, pointing down the street. "I used to play games there all afternoon with my friends." 

"What about your homework?" you tease him. 

"Overrated," he rolls his eyes. "I did that hidden beneath the blanket with my flashlight later." 

You giggle at the thought of a small Minho hiding beneath his blanket and doing his homework in secret. "Such a good student, huh?" 

"I was okay," he shrugs and thinks for a moment. "You're hungry?" 

"A little, yes," you nod and giggle as his eyes brighten up. "Let me guess, you know a place." 

"Hey," he says softly and looks almost a little timid. "I thought you wanted to see the places I grew up around." 

You gently wrap your arms around him, standing next to him, and smirk at him. "I still do. I just think you're adorable." 

"I'm what now?" he asks offended but you see the blush rising in his cheeks. 

"You're adorable, Min," you tell him again, and he glances at you nervously. "I love how excited you get over small things sometimes." 

"Hey, I have a reputation," he mumbles, only half-heartedly protesting. 

"I know you better than that," you chuckle, and he squirms a little in your arms. "Lead the way, handsome." 

"Handsome?" he whispers, and his eyes widen. 

You giggle at him and poke his cheek lovingly. "Chan was right, you really suck at taking compliments," you say and let go of him.

"He didn't say that!" Minho protests loudly, and his eyes widen as you simply nod. "Chan hyung, you little -."

"Don't," you scold him, and he rolls his eyes. 

"He's not here, you know," he tells you. 

"And still, you call him hyung," you point out. 

"I'm being polite, some people were raised like that, you know?" he teases, and you stick your tongue out at him. "See? That's exactly what I mean." 

"So? Where to next?" you ask, and he points down another street. 

"Right there," he smiles and looks down as you take his hand. 

"Come on now, I'm hungry," you laugh at his puzzled look. 

"Right," he nods quickly and leads you down the street, loving how your hands fit together perfectly. 

Seven

Minho frowns softly as your name pops up on his screen. He grabs his phone and takes the call almost immediately. "What's up?" he asks. 

"Do you have time right now?" you ask shakily, and he sits up straight in his chair. 

"What's wrong?" he asks worriedly. 

"I'm just feeling sad," you tell him and sniffle softly. 

"Oh, dear, why's that?" he asks softly. 

"I miss home and I feel like I'm messing everything up lately. It's been raining for days, which only worsens my mood, and I'm having trouble sleeping," you explain quietly. 

Minho hums gently before frowning. "Chan's busy doing the live right now, and Felix is on some fashion event…but Chan should be done in twenty minutes. I'll tell him to call you and-." 

"Minho," you say, and he shuts up immediately. "I know they're busy."

"Yeah, right, you know our schedule better than we do," he giggles. 

"I wouldn't have called them if they weren't either," you say. 

"What?" he asks confused. 

"I wanted to talk to you and hear your voice, Min," you say timidly. 

His eyes widen at your confession, and he swallows hard. "Why me? They know you so much longer, and I'm sure they can help you out better." 

"I feel safe with you," you tell him, and he remains quiet for a very long moment. You start getting nervous, unsure if you've overstepped a line now. 

"I uhm, can I call you back? Something came up," he says, and you swallow hard. 

"Okay," you say quietly, but he has already ended the call. You anxiously put down your phone and stare out of the window. Had it been a mistake calling him for comfort? Did he feel like you were moving too fast in your friendship for that? 

Only twenty minutes later, Minho rings your doorbell repeatedly. You open the door and stare at him, surprised. "I brought some food, your favorite chocolate, and my mini projector to watch some movies. I also brought the blanket you always steal from me…which is kinda stupid since you have your own here," he says and frowns at himself at the last bit. "Will you let me in? I'm soaked and starting to feel a little cold," he whines. 

Only then you notice his wet hair and clothes, too focused on his soft eyes searching yours beforehand. "Why are you here?" you ask stunned as you let him inside. 

Minho looks at you in utter confusion and puts the things down on your kitchen table. "You said you were sad." 

"And that makes you risk getting sick?" you ask surprised, and hand him a towel for his hair. 

He quickly dries his hair a bit before putting the towel aside and tilting his head at you. "You said you feel safe with me…so why would I stay at home?" 

You stare at him before tears fill your eyes all over again. "I really don't deserve you," you press out, touched by his effort. 

Minho's face softens, and he pulls you into a warm hug. "You deserve only the best and so much more, beautiful," he says softly and smiles as you hold onto him tightly. He buries his face in your shoulder, smiling at the feeling of being needed. Needed by you. "I'm here now. You'll be okay," he promises, and you believe him. 

Eight 

You chuckle as Chan takes your hand and pulls you into the audience to get a good view of the stage. The rest of the kids follow you, and you all curiously wait for your friends to enter the stage. Felix told you it would be the first time they'd perform Taste live. You loved the song the moment you heard it for the first time and were really surprised by Minho's vocals as well. You giggle softly as Minho fools around with the audience before, opening his suit jacket and laughing at the supportive screams. "Such a tease," you say. 

Chan grins and hums softly. "Wouldn't expect any different," he nods, knowing damn well his friend only had eyes for you since he spotted you in the crowd. By now, everyone had picked up on the way you two gazed at each other, both thinking to be subtle. 

They start their performance, and you can't do anything else than stare at Minho. The suit fits him amazingly; the colors are complimenting his dark eyes and hair. His stage presence is undeniable, and you'd never get sick of watching him dance, doing what he loved. His beautiful angel voice rings in your ears, and suddenly, he's sinking to his knees, still singing effortlessly. You're making eye contact, and it hits you all over again how beautiful he is. Before you know it, he's on the floor, rolling his hips with his hand placed near his lap, and you can't deny the sparks shooting through your lower stomach. 

"Enjoying the view?" Chan teases you, and your eyes widen. 

"Huh?" you ask nervously and glance at him for a moment. "Felix being handsome is no news, Channie." 

"I wasn't talking about Felix," he chuckles and leans closer to you so you can hear him as the crowd goes wild. "I'm not talking about Hyunjin either." 

"Minho always looks good on stage," you say cautiously. 

"Only on stage?" he asks, and you turn to look at him. "I'm not blind, Y/N." 

You glance back on stage as Minho takes his ending position, panting softly and smirking succeedingly into the camera. "Would it be so bad if I liked him more than a friend?" you ask timidly. 

Chan gently wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Do you?" he asks, and all you can do is nod, swallowing hard at the confession. "I can tell you he'd love to hear that." 

"What?" you ask surprised. 

"Minho needs someone to show him how lovable he actually is. He'll never make the first move thinking you don't like him that way and too afraid to lose you," Chan tells you gently. "You have a very special place in his heart; he's just scared to show you." 

"Are you saying there's actually a chance he likes me back?" you ask quietly. 

"Not just a chance," he says before searching your eyes. "We have your back no matter what, and we'll always be there to support the two of you," he tells you and gently places his hands on your shoulders as Minho makes his way towards you. "You two deserve to be happy," he says softly and pushes you forward. 

You meet Minho's beautiful dark eyes and flash him a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hey," he smiles happily, eyes lightening up at the sight of you. 

"You looked beautiful up there," you say, and he blushes, smiling shyly.

"Yeah?" he asks sweetly. You've never called him beautiful before. 

"Can we talk?" you ask gently and reach out for his hand. 

Minho's face grows worried as he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Is something wrong, kitten?" he asks. 

Gosh, you really loved this man. 

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the list!)

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

@soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @browniebrownie-1231 @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image isn't mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 this was supposed to be a re-vamp of "love bite" but, well, i guess i got a bit too carried away. this one's pretty long, so have fun! 」

「 tw: possessive behaviour, swearing, non-consensual biting, mentions of blood, mentions/implications of violence — read with caution. 」

"don't touch that!"

crash!

"oops. :("

"oops? that's all you have to say- don't give me that look."

":("

"fuck you."

"ohhh, i like the sound of that-"

you groan in frustration, rubbing your throbbing temple. pieces of a broken flower pot lie carelessly on the tiled floor—a flower pot that was meant to house your newly grown Daffodils if someone could keep his hands to himself.

he frowns at your distress, snaking an arm over your shoulders to pull you in. his free hand rests snugly on the small of your back. right where it belongs.

"i'm sorry, sweetheart. i'll get you a new one, okay?"

you shake your head, making your way through the array of potted plants within your shop. once your hand grasps the familiar wooden handle of your broom, you reply.

"no. it's alright. i can just order another one; it wasn't that expensive, anyway."

he hums, looking through his phone. at this point, you know he hadn't listened to a single word you said. he's been your closest friend for years. by now, he's probably-

"i got you a new set. they'll arrive in a few days. is that alright, honey?"

-already ordered another one. actually, he ordered more. you don't even need that many pots right now! you can feel another headache settling in.

"okay, whatever. what are you doing here, anyway?"

you sweep up the sad pieces of the flower pot, sending your Daffodils an apologetic look. 'i'm so sorry, my babies. i'll get you a new home soon, i promise.'

he watches the exchange, eyes squinting. you're no stranger to the look. you've seen it more times than you could count on two hands.

or, well, you assume that was the case. you're not really counting-

while you're cleaning his mess, the man in question leans idly on the counter.

'how strange,' he muses. he's seen the way you coddled your.. shrubs. for the last time, they're not shrubs!

maybe you were unknowingly born with the ability to talk to plants? or you simply have some form of connection with your babies, as you liked to call them.

or perhaps you've simply lost your mind ages ago, so you've convinced yourself that the shrubs- they aren't shrubs!!

-sorry, the not-shrubs could communicate.

wait, did you talk in his head?

you ignore his sudden confusion, opting to mourn over the loss of a perfectly good pot. fly high. you will be missed. after dumping the broken pot, you turn back to the insufferable man.

"you didn't really answer my question."

"what? am i not allowed to visit my favorite florist?"

"mind you, i am the only florist you know. besides, you're too busy to pay any unnecessary visits."

he laughs, muscles flexing as he pushes off the counter.

"alright, you got me. so you remember when i told you that i've found her?."

her? oh! he means his, uh, what did he call it? ah, right. his destined pair. pfft, that sounds cheesy as hell. why can't he be normal and say he fell in love?

"yeah? are you going to man up and tell her? you've been dancing around it for years; you haven't even introduced me yet!"

with a snort, he crosses his arms.

"well, sorry. i don't really find the need to introduce you."

eh? you take personal offense to that!

with a dramatic gasp, you clench the fabric of your top, right where your heart is.

"i've been your best friend for this long, dealing with your stupid ass for years, but you won't tell me who the love of your life is? i see how it is."

he smiles, "i.. don't think we'll still be friends after i tell you.."

what?

"don't tell me, is it my sworn enemy!? i can't believe you would settle for that-"

he denies it immediately, face scrunching in disgust.

"absolutely not. i would sooner choose to marry a horse."

you crack up at that, clutching your stomach as you laugh.

his eyes soften with a small grin. sometimes, he wonders what he'd done to deserve you.

you, with eyes that light up every time you see him. with that smile stretching your lips into a carefree curve; delighted and so full of life. you fill his heart with an immeasurable amount of love. if only you know what you do to him.

everything about you is so perfect. you're mesmerizing. you're his everything.

but he's not the only one.

just thinking of all the eyes who've dared to look at you..

his smile falls.

if only he could gauge their eyes out; or better yet, he could keep you all to himself. he'd mark you as his own, give you everything you could ever want or need. it isn't hard for him to do as he pleased.

but at what cost? you wouldn't be happy. you would hate him. but worst of all, he would hurt you.

and he couldn't hurt you. never.

and yet, as he watched a customer—another man—flirt with you, he couldn't help but rethink his choices. would it be better for him to take you, after all?

his eyes darken.

you're stuck.

after you had closed the shop, you were forced down.

he held your trembling wrists, firmly pressing them against the counter. 'his hands are cold,' you noted, breath hitching as he stared you down.

"look, i know i said 'fuck you' earlier, but i didn't mean for you to actually do so-"

"shut up."

you did.

he was mad, you could tell. frustrated, even.

why? did you do something wrong? were you being too mean earlier? did he find the secret stash of snacks you've been hiding from him-

you squeak when he hauls you up by the waist, fully lying you against the wide counter instead of the previous awkward position.

"w-wait, seriously, we can talk about this-"

you're cut off when he grips your chin, roughly forcing your eyes to meet his own.

"you know i don't like it when you avoid my eyes."

he's only an inch away from your face; his stare holds an intense wave of emotions. they swirl within his eyes, almost unreadable to you—but one stands out.

you lean your forehead against his, facing him head on. you don't avoid his eyes. you're not scared of looking directly at him, even in this situation. that might be another one of the reasons why he's fallen so hard.

"why're you hurting?"

his eyes crinkle as he grins. such a sweet human. no matter the circumstance, you never lose your heart. do you not find him threatening? he stares at the guilty little twinkle in your eyes. how can one be so cute.

you're not making this any easier for him, are you? he can barely control himself as is.

your eyes catch a glint, honing onto his sharp fangs.

what-

"ah, the cat's out of the bag."

his voice sends shivers down your spine, and unconsciously, you move back.

he doesn't allow it, however, as he guides you closer. his fingers draw up your leg, leaving a trail of heat despite the contrasting temperature of his hand.

he stops at your thigh, pulling it up to his hip.

he's so fucking close.

"i can feel you shaking, sweetheart. are you scared?"

you shake your head, but he's already caught the traces of fear that linger on your features.

"lying is a sin, love. weren't you the one who taught me that?"

the next moment is a blur.

he leans down, fangs poking the skin of your neck. dread settles into the pit of your stomach. the fear comes after; and then the panic sets in.

but it's already too late.

you whimper, biting your lip to distract you from the pure, unadulterated pain. your trembling hands find their way to the back of his shirt, tightly clutching the fabric.

you don't even realize that you're crying until he rubs your cheek, and you feel the tears sliding against your skin.

his fangs sink deeper, and the agonizing pain melts away, replaced with a growing heat in your abdomen. you stifle a moan, the metallic taste of your blood lingering on your bitten lip.

he keeps you against the counter, a hand tracing circles on your waist. suddenly, you're not scared anymore. your heart beats erratically, but you find nothing out of place. in fact, everything feels right.

a headache surfaces, and you groan into his shoulder as he pulls away. a drop of blood trails down your neck, but he licks it off. you shiver, feeling hyperaware of every movement.

he smiles at your dazed state. he rubs your head, pulling you closer when you bury yourself in his chest, nuzzling into his embrace.

his eyes trail down to the mark on your neck, and he grins with pride; kissing your temple.

you'll probably be mad when you're not dazed anymore..

no matter, he'll make it up to you later. right now, he can't wait to take you home.

[primalmagic]

waking up to the start of the end of the world (but it's feeling just like every other morning before)

some days, the nightmares just never go away.

OR that one future benlor fluff fic because hurt/comfort is the best type of fic ever <3 (oh and they cuddle i think)

———

It’s been a few hours since the rest of them had fallen asleep, but Taylor just… can’t.

It’s not that she isn’t tired, but sleeping is a bit of a chore nowadays, and she’s trying to delay it as much as possible 

Funny enough, she’s the only one so far who hasn’t been plagued by nightmares- until now. She remembers the days after the incident, how everyone seemed so hollow and lost and scared. She couldn’t afford to be scared then, because she needed to be there for her friends. She had to. 

But now, it was different. Because they were safe and everything was… alright. They were alright. 

But allowing herself to be scared felt like betraying everyone else. And god, was that conflicting.  

Taylor remembers when Ashlyn broke down, only a while after they had met, explaining how she felt the burden of keeping them safe and being their leader. 

She gets that, she supposes. 

In a different way, but she gets it. She wasn’t going to let herself break again, not like after Tyler almost died and she was on the verge of going insane. She needed to be there, like how her brother was always there for her. 

She hears Aiden snore next to her, and smiles softly. Out of everyone, his nightmares had lasted the longest, and they still happened regularly.

Everyone else got them- but not as often, and not as much as they used to. 

Why did she know that? 

Because she stayed awake, every single night, in fear of those nightmares. 

She’s had one before- and she sure as fuck doesn’t want to have another one. 

She remembers a phantom, grabbing Tyler and pulling him back out the car door. It throws him onto a tree and watches him bleed out gleefully. She remembers how she couldn’t move, how she was right there, but she couldn’t do anything.

She knows that’s not what happens, too. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t terrifying, that she hadn’t woken up in tears, shivering even though it was a 80-degree summer night. 

Taylor also knows that nobody will admit it, but a part of the reason they had so many sleepovers was because it decreased the chance of nightmares. Because they weren’t alone, or afraid, and they felt safer. 

She agrees. 

She pulls herself out of her sleeping bag as quietly as possible, and stands up, surveying the others. 

They’re all fast asleep, or so it seems. Alright, she thinks, I’ll take a walk. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep when I come back. 

She tiptoes out of the room, and once she’s far enough, she starts to walk normally. 

She’s about to open the front door when she feels a tap on her shoulder. 

Fear plummets through her chest as her eyes widen, adrenaline surging through her veins. She twirls back and subsequently punches the figure immediately, her fist meeting soft flesh for a second before she processes it. 

“Ben?” She looks at him in shock, “Oh my god, I thought you were a phantom. Oh my god, are you alright?” 

Ben holds out a shaky thumbs up, which she doesn’t really accept as an answer. “Damn it, I’ll get you an ice pack, alright? Wait here.” 

Ben raises his eyebrows, as if to say- Right, like I could go anywhere. 

She runs back into the room a few seconds later, with a small bag of ice and a bandaid.

Ben isn’t injured or anything, just a small visible scratch on his temple, but she feels a wave of guilt hit her in the face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she mutters, leaning down to press the bag of ice onto his forehead, “I swear I didn’t mean to.” 

He leans over to grab her free hand, and squeezes it, trying to calm her down. 

It has an incredibly opposite effect. 

You okay? He taps in broken Morse code. Taylor had been teaching him bits and pieces of it as a communication method, and it had proved helpful too many times to count. The only problem was that she and Tyler were the only ones fluent in it, as their dad had taught it to them when they were little. But hey, one step at a time, right? 

“I should be asking you that,” She raises her eyebrows, her hands too occupied to tap back, “You know, because I kind of, maybe, slightly, punched you?” 

Just slightly? Ben taps, smirking slightly. 

She blushes, “I said I’m sorry!” 

I know. I’m sorry too. 

“What the hell are you sorry for?” She scoffs affectionately. 

For interrupting you. U wanted to go somewhere?

Just a walk, she taps, putting the melted ice bag down. I thought you were all asleep.

I was. I heard you leave and woke up. 

“Oh,” she flushes in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Stop saying sorry, he smiles, tapping it out decisively, It’s ok. 

She laughs weakly, particularly exhausted. She hopes Ben isn’t able to see it, but of course he does. 

You don’t look too good. R u sure u are ok? 

Damn him and his perceptiveness. 

“Just nightmares,” she waves it off dismissively, “Nothing important.” 

That’s important. They suck. Anything I can do to help? 

She shakes her head, “You’re a sweetheart, Ben, but it’s alright. You should go back to sleep anyway, I don’t want to keep you up.” 

Nope.

“Sorry?” She frowns, about to get up. 

I’m not going anywhere. 

He rests his arm on his knee and turns to look at Taylor completely, which causes her heart to stutter. 

God, this “not-crush” situation had to stop. Her very unhelpful crush on Ben was unnecessary and stupid, so she’d convinced herself it wasn’t actually a crush. He was just really nice and respectful and sweet, alright? She just thought he was cool- that was all. It had been going on for months now, and every time she was about to get over it, he had to do something like this, which made her squeal inside like a middle school girl.

She was also weak, so she could do nothing but stutter out an “Oh-”

Fix yourself, Taylor, She mentally chides herself, forcing her body to cooperate and maintain a neutral expression. 

Have you had nightmares before?

She hesitates, unsure of how much information she’s willing to give him. But then again… this was Ben. He was safe, and he’d never used anything she’d said against her before.

He’s still sitting on the floor, lying on the back of the couch. She sits down next to him, keeping in mind the small distance between them. 

“I used to,” she admits. “When my dad died.”

— 

They talk for a while, and Taylor doesn’t even realize it until a light ray of sunshine peeks out from behind the maroon curtains. 

She yawns, sluggishly tapping back, I’d much rather never sleep than relive that stuff. 

Ben nods and leans closer (she’s acutely aware of this), brushing the bangs out of her face. You’re tired. 

It’s not a question, but it doesn’t need to be. She’s too exhausted to think. “Mh hm.” 

He shakes his head, How many days have you stayed up, Tay? You need to sleep. 

“No,” she frowns, pulling her knees to her chest, “I’m good, thank you.” 

He sighs, typing slowly and steadily, What did you do before… when your dad died?”

She smiles bitterly, “I’d go to my mom, and I’d sleep with her. But she’d always be out really late, and I began to see Tyler as my guardian more and more. I didn’t really understand anything, back then. I just knew he was safe and he took care of me. So I’d go to him, most of the time. I don’t want to bother him anymore though, he’s done way too much for me.” 

He seems to ponder that for a while, before nodding, I get it. 

She feels like her heart might burst out of her chest. This? This was what she needed. He didn’t try to change her mind or deny it, he just… got it. She squeezes his hand, which looks to be tapping random erratic beats, and not words anymore. 

It catches him by surprise, but he squeezes back. His other hand brushes through his hair, and he suddenly seems almost bashful.

If you want… He pauses, his hands freezing in mid-air.

What? She taps curiously.

You could… Another pause, just sleep here, with me?

Taylor turns a hot scarlet, practically yanking her hand away from Ben’s.

Shit, sorry, that was a bad idea. I didn’t mean to make anything awkward, I swear. I just want to help.

“No, no!” She replies, “No, it’s okay. It just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

You don’t have to pretend, Taylor, you’re allowed to dislike or disagree with something. 

She replays his words in his head for a few seconds, hesitatingly continuing, “I’m not pretending. Um, I think I’d like that, maybe.”

Maybe?

She blushes again, as if she wasn’t already practically a tomato, “Aren’t you tired?”

Not really, She smiles, and then uses both arms to bring Taylor closer, who squeaks indiginantly. Just go to sleep, Taylor.

She leans his head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, immediately sinking into the lull of her exhaustion. “Thanks Ben,” she mutters softly, unsure if the boy can even hear her.

He twirls a lock of her hair, pausing when Taylor shifts. Then, carefully, he wraps his arm around her and taps softly on her shoulder, Is this okay?

“Mhm.”

He continues playing with her hair until she’s fast asleep, and the only sound in the house is coming from the whir of the fan above. 

Taylor’s still asleep when Ben picks her up and sets her on the couch, draping a small cotton blanket over her. She’s still asleep when he sits down on the chair and falls asleep soon after, because he was in fact, quite tired. She’s still asleep when the nightmare starts, and her mind replays the most traumatic moments of her life.

She’s not asleep when Ben hugs her, whispering promises and affirmations in her ear as she wakes up sobbing. 

The nightmares don’t just go away.

But, god, they’re so much easier to deal with when you have someone else with you.

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Weather the storm // e.m x gn!reader ft. Uncle Wayne

Summary: You need some help to help yourself but Eddie needs help to help you because he's never seen you like this before. Luckily, Uncle Wayne has a wealth of life experiences which he uses to aid Eddie, who can then help you. Eddie just wants you safe, healthy and happy.

Tw; comfort, fluff, I've written so many fics like this already but oh well have another one because we all need a hug from our Uncle Wayne, reader has trouble communicating and uses the weather system to describe their mood, reader stops eating and sleeping as much (poor self-care due to low mood; vicious cycle which they're aware of but lack the want to change it), reader cries, Eddie & Uncle Wayne worry, Uncle Wayne is a hand-holding sweetheart, Eddie and Uncle Wayne refer to each other FREQUENTLY as son & dad respectively because that's the canonical truth and I won't listen to anything else, I only refer to him as Uncle Wayne because calling him 'Wayne' with no precursor feels rude as all hell. Not sure why!

Dedicated to @stevesmunsons, who is going through something incredibly difficult but is still doing her best and kicking ass. Eddie would tell you that it's okay to feel, it's okay to cry, you're still the most metal ever in his eyes, he loves you and he'll always be there, 'kay? 'Kay. I love you lots, Sarah, and I'm sending you lots of love and hugs!💖💖💖 I also dedicate this wholeheartedly to you for always being so sweet and giving with the Eddie edits!!!! You have no idea how light and happy your creations make me feel and how tightly I grip my phone just to feel him closer.🥺Thank you, thank you, thank you.💖I hope you enjoy, Sarah!🌸

Fic specific tags: @neewtmas @maladaptive-day-dreams @sadbitchfangirl @tayhar811 @captainonaboat @chloe-6123 @desicroft02 @anotherdayinchuckletown @skyline4446 @cherrycolas-things @relocatedheads @madaboutmunson2 @rebelcthulhu @fluffysteampunkd @babyloutattoo89 @indiefawna @thefreak0fhawkinshigh @tinfoilhat86

Eddie tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @manyfandomsfanvergent @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel

Word count: 3, 877.

To begin with, your mental and physical self-care had only slipped a tiny bit. It was barely enough for anyone other than you to notice. You slept an hour less than usual, you snacked a bit less, you gave yourself less time in the shower and watched television for half an hour less every night or watched everything other than what you actually wanted to watch. All that 'saved' time was used to work a bit more, a bit harder, to love yourself a bit less.

To begin with, only you noticed.

Until you didn't. Until you lost sight of yourself.

You stopped noticing the darkening bags under your eyes, the way you occasionally stumbled from exhaustion through the trailer door late at night, the way you stopped smiling when your favourite song came on the radio in Eddie's van or the way the sight of Uncle Wayne at the end of a long hard day (the start of his day spelled the end of yours; you were ships in the night) made you grin so hard you teared up, now caused you to just stare at him with glassy eyes and a barely perceptible smile. You stopped noticing that it had become easier for you to skip a meal than it was for you to actually sit down and eat something.

But Eddie didn't.

Eddie noticed everything, from the very first day you started to display signs that you weren't okay. He saw it all, kept mental notes on behaviours which cropped up which concerned him, and almost nightly relayed them back to Uncle Wayne when they were alone - what is spoken in the Munson trailer stays in the Munson trailer. It's in the Munson Doctrine and so it is a rule never broken, on pain of receiving a cold shoulder for a day or two.

The Munsons had icy shoulders when wronged.

Uncle Wayne had told Eddie to keep an eye on you, to let you come to him in your own time, and Eddie had done that. But then days had turned to weeks, weeks to a month, and Eddie couldn't take it anymore.

He had to step in.

In all honesty, if he hadn't stepped in when he did, Uncle Wayne's advice that night would have been just that:

Clearly, you needed help to help yourself.

You needed Eddie.

Eddie would deny you nothing during the best of times, but during the worst of times? He'd give you all he had and then some.

"Hey, do you think you can swing it with your boss to come home early tonight? Clouds are real dark overhead and I don't know what to do." Eddie turned and looked over his shoulder, to see what had been constant for the last half an hour; you, with a blanket thrown over your lap, staring through the television as you passively watched the images of your favourite film flicker across the screen. There was nothing on your face besides vague recognition. It sent chills down Eddie's spine to realise that even your most beloved film wasn't connecting with you and lowered his voice, "something's wrong, man."

It was the way Eddie stopped speaking in metaphors which grabbed Uncle Wayne's attention, as well as the fact that Eddie was usually the quiet supporter of the graveyard shifts and long, long hours. He was the one to cook three lots of dinner so Uncle Wayne could eat when he got home, he was the one who set the shower up so all that needed to be done was for it to be turned on, he was the one who got the pull out bed ready so all his beloved dad had to do was reheat dinner, eat, shower, then sleep.

Eddie never asked for Uncle Wayne to come home early unless it was real dark overhead. A code for 'family emergency' and one long established: ever since the Munsons had realised that you didn't always have it in you to ask for help, but you were happy to use the weather in place of a mood. No forecast had been given this morning and no forecast had been given this afternoon, either, even though it was obvious that the sun wasn't coming out for you, but this evening, Eddie had had enough of not being able to see what the weather was even when he was sat right next to you, and so he called in the one weatherman who always knew what to do.

All his life, Eddie had never once been in a situation which his dad hadn't been able to resolve or make better somehow, and this was no exception. He was sure of it.

In the end, Uncle Wayne faked a family emergency (it was more an elaboration of the truth, really, because you not feeling okay was an emergency) so that he could get out of work, on account of having no sick time available until the next quarter. He had been working at the plant long enough now that if he wanted to leave early, little about it was said and few eyebrows were raised at the daring. It was known that Wayne Munson would make up the time at a later date; his boy was probably in trouble again.

Uncle Wayne got home as quickly as he could. No traffic laws were broken, a decision made through a clenching jaw and fingers which white-knuckled the steering wheel. If he had his way, he would fly home. Hell, he would never have gone to work at all if he really wanted to get his way, but the world hadn't ever been kind to him and Uncle Wayne had sworn to himself over a decade ago that he would shield his boy from it as best as he could. Full of anger, he always chose kindness where he could, and he was nice where he couldn't be kind. It wasn't easy, but he wanted to be better than the people who had taught him how to hate. He wanted to do right by his boy. Even when his boy wasn't around to watch.

That had to count for something, right?

Uncle Wayne thought it did, and to hell with anyone else who didn't.

He had Eddie and they didn't, so who was the real winner in this situation?

On that high thought, which made Uncle Wayne's heart ache in his chest, he was home, and in no time at all did he push open the front door to the trailer with a world weary sigh. The world couldn't touch him or his boy when they were home together. It was their sanctuary from a world which sought to devour anyone born into it, turn them into just another nameless, faceless cog in the machine. A number on a spreadsheet. A statistic. But here, in this trailer? Why, it was a place of love and acceptance, tough love when required, pride always, understanding and tenderness and no judgement. Ever. For anything.

Home is where the heart is and that's why the trailer was the trailer when one or both Munsons weren't in it, but home when they were together under the same metal roof.

"Hey, kiddos!" He kept his voice level; it came out sounding gruffer than it was intended, but you and Eddie both heard the relief in his voice to be home, and the slight strain of tension in his voice when his tender blues fell upon you. He wasn't even fully in the door and already you were one of his priorities. Eddie had taken a few steps closer, like a moth to a flame when it came to his dad, but you had stayed exactly where you were, gazing absently at the television. Your usual excited greeting, the way you bounced up like a puppy when a Munson came home, was nowhere to be heard or seen and it caused similar looks of worry to cross the Munsons' faces.

"Oh, thank fuck! Dad!" Eddie was a blur of black and denim as he launched himself at Uncle Wayne, who only chuckled fondly and brought Eddie into his chest easily. It was a part of his come-home routine to catch his boy, literally; Eddie had always been fond of throwing himself out of trees, off benches, at his dad to say hello... "Thanks for coming home early," Eddie whispered, his voice a bit louder than a whisper was supposed to be, but you were still mindlessly watching television and paying little attention to your surroundings.

That was two strikes in both Eddie and Uncle Wayne's books; barely watching your favourite film, and you hadn't hugged the elder Munson within a millisecond of Eddie letting him go.

"'Course," Uncle Wayne smiled and ruffled Eddie's curls, his hand almost swallowing the crown of his son's head, fingers hot and grip firm. Eddie's ultimate comfort was his dad's touch, physical or otherwise. His dad's cooking, words, music, hugs, hell, even all the times he still crawled into his dad's bed after a nightmare (the most recent of those times was just last week), his music, all reached Eddie deep within, further than even your own touch sometimes. "I'd never tell my boy no." Not for something like this, especially.

Eddie playfully winced. "Ehh, once or twice."

Uncle Wayne nodded his head in agreement, crow's feet deepening as he smiled. He loved the banter just as much as Eddie did, found it invigorating to know that Eddie was now able to give as good as he got. He had never quite managed it as a kid or even as a teenager, but now at twenty, he could run circles around Uncle Wayne when he wanted to. And he did. Often. "Gotta keep ya' on your toes, son."

Eddie inched in for another hug from his dad, squeezing, and took the opportunity to say, "this is really bad, man. I don't know how to help." He let go and Uncle Wayne rolled his shoulders, kicked off his boots, and cast his blues over you again. Not in greeting, this time, but in searching. Figuring you out.

Uncle Wayne stepped away from the front door and toed off his boots, nudging them into line against the sideboard with his socked feet, shed his coat and hung that up. He was left in that flannel you loved so much and wore often, a dark blue shirt underneath, and some jeans which had seen better days and had obviously undergone several repairs.

"You all right there, Y/N?"

You gave Uncle Wayne a tight smile. "Yeah, m'fine. How was work?"

Eddie visibly winced for real. Rule number one with his dad: never brush him off or tell him you're okay if you're not. He had had to drill that into Eddie's head from day one and it had taken Eddie years to trust Uncle Wayne enough to be fully honest with him. Every sliver of truth he gave Uncle Wayne, even now when Eddie was living his fullest life, was very appreciated and reciprocated equally. Uncle Wayne tolerated many things, but his loved ones lying to him was not something he ever tolerated, not even a little bit and not for any reason.

Uncle Wayne inhaled deeply, shook his head just once, and then exhaled. Got down in front of you on his knees and took both of your hands in his. Eddie took the cue and sat down to the side of you which was closest to the door, and wrapped a strong arm around your shoulders, his fingers splayed across your upper arm to touch as much of you as he could in that one moment.

"Work was fine, sweetpea," Uncle Wayne's voice was gruff but again, you and Eddie heard all the kindness in the world. "But I ain't interested in talkin' to you about that, no offense," he chuckled wryly, "I asked you how you are, darlin', an' I want a proper answer. You got my kid all worked up an' that gets me worked up and m'too old and too tired."

"Dad!" Eddie hissed, but Uncle Wayne barely glanced at him. One kid at a time. Eddie had had his time and so now it was your time.

"Talk to us, Y/N. We ain't gonna' judge you here. Y'know that by now."

"Yeah," Eddie agreed easily, leaning his head on your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into Eddie's warmth, "you're safe here, I promise. What's said in this trailer stays in this trailer, 'kay?"

"Mm-hm." You nodded, a stinging at the backs of your eyes and nose telling you that you were going to cry if they carried on. The weight of Eddie pressed against you, the sight of Uncle Wayne on his knees before you, eyes level with yours, tender blues and chocolate buttons giving you equally weighted gazes, Uncle Wayne's hands holding yours tightly, calloused and warm, Eddie's hand rubbing up and down your arm slowly... it was all too much and you almost felt the urge to run away, and yet... this was all you had been wanting.

Uncle Wayne and Eddie.

Eddie and Uncle Wayne.

The Munsons.

The most amazing package deal you had ever received and would ever receive in your life.

"Let's try again." Uncle Wayne squeezed your hands in encouragement. He really wanted to help you, to do the best for you that he could. He loved you like you were one of his kids, and though Eddie would always be his number one, his absolute top priority, Uncle Wayne had a heart bigger than the size of Hawkins and he had room for any kid and every kid who wanted in on his heart. You just had to be open and honest and kind, and you were a part of the family. It was just how Uncle Wayne was, and it was the way Eddie had been raised to be, too. One look at Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin and anyone could see that Eddie took after his Uncle, his dad, beautifully. He had been raised so magnificently given the circumstances but only the most important people got lucky enough, close enough to see that.

Seamlessly, Eddie picked up his dad's sentence, "you okay?" They knew you needed both of them, and without any foreplanning between them, they were giving you everything you needed and more.

"No," your voice cracked, "No, Eddie. I'm not okay." You risked a glance at Uncle Wayne and that was when you broke. "I'm not okay at all," You hiccuped and then immediately burst into tears. It scared you, your sudden intense display of negative emotion, and that made you cry harder. All those days, weeks, of suffering in silence, trying to do your best while destroying yourself in the process, all that effort and work to keep yourself together when you barely realised that you were falling apart, and all it took in the end to bring you down was the sight of Uncle Wayne looking at you with those eyes you loved so much.

If one look could kill, then another look could save, and between the two Munsons, you would be lifted high above the clouds so that you could see the forest for the trees and thus, find out where to go from here. But not alone. Never alone.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey," Eddie cooed, squeezing you tighter into his side as Uncle Wayne raised one ofyour joined hands so that he could use the back of his to dash your tears away. "It's okay, Y/N, we're here, you're safe." Eddie felt guilty about feeling relieved that you had finally shattered.

"I just don't know what to do," tears dripped sore and Uncle Wayne kept his hands in yours as he used the backs of his hands to dash them away; though they were falling faster than he could move but he persisted, kept at it. He never gave up on Eddie, he never had and he never would, and he wasn't about to give up on you either. "I can't do this anymore. M'fuckin'... treading through water, running uphill, walking on the spot... trying so hard and goin' fucking nowhere and I'm sick of it. I don't wanna do this anymore, there's no point and m'tired."

"Storm's ragin' pretty hard, ain't it?"

Your eyes focused in on Uncle Wayne, though you couldn't see him for the tears, and you squeezed your hands inside his unwavering grip. "Uncle Wayne, please." What you were asking for, you knew not, but Uncle Wayne had a wealth of life experience, he had been around and seen a lot, and even with his boy smushed against your side did Uncle Wayne manage to give you a proper hug. You were able to rest your head on his shoulder and Eddie, though he grumbled some, followed you so that he was hunched over next to you, his head on your shoulders, the both of you oneshift away from collapsing atop Uncle Wayne from where he knelt on the floor, but none of you wanted to move. You would follow the Munsons anywhere and that included the floor of the trailer, so long as they kept holding you like they were.

"You're enough, darlin', believe you me. Don't destroy yourself no more, that point you're tryna' make ain't worth it, y'hear?"

"But I - " You straightened up, your back beginning to ache, but Uncle Wayne kept his hands and yours together, his touch your grounding just as much as Eddie's touch was.

"Nope, nope," Eddie waved his hands emphatically, situating himself correctly once more as well on the sofa, "absolutely not. You've been hurting yourself for a month, not letting me in, not taking care of yourself... and for what? I can't watch anymore, Y/N. M'worried and dad is too... just, please, talk to me. I wanna help. No buts." Eddie swept his hand through his hair, his dark curls snagging on his silver rings 'til he got frustrated and yanked his hand free, wincing but paying himself no mind. Eddie was used to rough treatment. "Look, I get it. The Shire is burning, right? Ground's too hot and you can't go up in the trees because they're on fire too and everything's on fire and it feels like you're in Mordor but, sweetheart, you're not. You're here, with me and my Uncle, you're safe."

Eddie's voice was soft, his tone was quiet, his arms back around you, holding you to his side. You rested your head on Eddie's shoulder and turned it to the side, hiding your face in the part of him where leather collar became bare skin, and Uncle Wayne squeezed your hands once more before he let you go, slapping his thighs as he stood up with a suppressed groan. He was too old for this shit but did it anyway because that's who he was. Eddie shushed you when you made a quiet noise of protest at how cold and empty your palms felt without Uncle Wayne's to keep them company, but you felt that same touch on the top of your head; I'm here, Y/N.

"You ain't alone, kid. We're gonna help you, any way we can. But you gotta help us to help you. Talk. Tell us what you need. Hell, show us or write it if you can't say it. I get it," Uncle Wayne shrugged easily, the look on his face one of, what can you do? as he moved through the trailer to go and make some dinner for the three of you. Indeed, he paid neither you nor Eddie any further mind as he set about cooking something and the two of you saw the dismissal for what it was; moving into Eddie's room without any words having to be spoken.

You just knew each other.

It was only when the door was shut behind the both of you that Eddie's bravado dropped, and his hands and lips began to tremble at almost the exact same second as he looked at you, his chocolate eyes glassy with tears.

"You - you had me scared, Y/N, I thought you - " Eddie sniffled, "well, I don't know what I thought, not really, but I've been so worried, sweetheart."

"Oh, Eddie, baby," Your own eyes stung with tears anew as you grabbed Eddie and pulled him into a tight, tight hug, every planes of your bodies aligned as you held each other. One of your arms was around Eddie's waist and the other was around his broad shoulders, your fingers flexing in those dark curls you braided most nights, and both of his arms were locked around you. But his embrace felt less like a cage and more like security. Even at your worst, Eddie loved you as strongly, as fiercely, as he loved you at your best. "M'sorry, honey, really, I - I don't even know why I've been - " You sighed, no longer able to speak. You didn't know how to explain it even to yourself, so how could you explain it to someone else? "I'll try to be better, and talk to you." Eddie nodded and you noticed that your shirt was beginning to feel wet where his face rested against the material, but you didn't call him out on the way he sniffled and stepped ever closer to you, though not even a sheet of paper could have gotten between you at that point. "I love you, Eddie, so much, and I'm sorry I shut you out."

Eddie shook his head, his curls tickling you, and he sniffled. "No more, Y/N. Just promise to talk to me, 'kay? There's no shame in needing help. You're strong enough to weather any storm, I've seen you do it. Every time you thought you couldn't get to Mordor, you did, and putting out the flames in the Shire so you don't have to go anywhere won't be easy, but I can help if you let me, yeah?"

You squeezed Eddie, breathing him in, and the two of you stood there hugging each other in the centre of his messy but clean room like there was nowhere else you would rather be and no one else you would rather be with.

At least, until Uncle Wayne called the both of you through for dinner.

You loved his cooking almost as much as you loved Eddie.

Almost.

You weren't okay, you were a mess. You needed sleep, you needed food, you needed to drink properly, you needed to take better care of yourself so then you could more effectively and efficiently manage your responsibilities and take better care of your mental health by way of being significantly less stressed. It was overwhelming and you wanted to give up before you had even started, but you had the Munsons to guide you through situations you got yourself into, whether they were or were not your fault, and they would do their best to help you no matter what it took. For you were a Munson, and Munsons never quit.

Even and especially when they most wanted to.