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tinysunshine · 1 day ago

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━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score.

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up.

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got.

Plans and Rick’s hope.

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out.

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad.

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal.

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t.

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit.

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes.

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off.

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are.

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose.

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder.

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies.

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up.

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes.

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough.

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold.

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general.

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings.

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing.

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor.

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him.

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail.

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce.

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call.

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times.

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best.

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you.

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love.

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep.

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you.

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too.

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night.

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that.

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more.

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy.

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days.

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him.

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp.

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you.

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except -

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick -

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing.

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure.

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time.

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after.

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you -

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile.

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago.

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something?

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes.

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else.

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him.

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck.

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit.

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code.

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and -

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch.

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times.

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.”

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive.

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap.

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching.

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face.

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he?

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says.

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his.

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag.

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation.

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you.

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off.

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do?

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go.

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore.

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want.

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist.

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies.

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain.

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying?

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back.

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough -

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you.

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp.

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days.

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good.

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh.

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second.

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand.

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses.

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has.

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise.

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard.

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever.

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before.

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper.

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again.

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl.

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains.

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket.

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck.

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly.

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone?

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder.

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is.

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it.

You nod eagerly.

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off.

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you.

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him.

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around?

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night.

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying.

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well -

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way.

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh.

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally.

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard.

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that.

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot.

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run.

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face.

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject.

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps.

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center.

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips.

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone.

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer.

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back.

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again.

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike.

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease.

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure.

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave.

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that.

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do.

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs.

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod.

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself.

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though.

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt.

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.”

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs.

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick.

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back.

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube.

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours.

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you.

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle.

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle.

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea.

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him.

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit.

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet.

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too.

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes.

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little.

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run.

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place.

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you.

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses.

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time.

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone.

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do.

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl.

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off.

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do.

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you.

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.”

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name.

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head.

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker.

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight.

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees.

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns.

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want.

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care.

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought.

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn.

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is.

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive.

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new.

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing.

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset.

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue.

It’s a cookie.

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face.

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes.

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face.

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms.

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking.

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are.

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts.

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours.

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run.

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?”

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means.

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world.

You found each other. You have each other.

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

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multific · 2 days ago

Text

Bloodlines and Blessings

Count Orlok x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy

Summary: Love takes root in unexpected ways. A future neither of you could have seen coming when the unimaginable happens.

The castle stood tall within the mountains. A testament of time.

Inside the castle, amongst its cold stone walls, life had long been absent. Without Count Orlok's immortal presence, the castle would have long been abandoned.

Yet now, something had changed.

You were here, and even if you were a mortal, your presence gave warmth to the ancient halls.

Orlok, who had spent centuries alone.

And yet, he found himself drawn to you in ways he could barely understand.

Your courage, your compassion, your willingness to see past his monstrous visage. He loved you.

One night, as you sat by the great fireplace, he spoke of his dreams.

“I never imagined I could want for more,” he said, his voice low and hesitant. “My legacy will be terror.”

You reached for his hand, your warmth a stark contrast to his cold.

“You are not alone anymore, My Love. Your legacy will be whatever you make it. People remember names they feared more than the ones they loved.”

Weeks passed, and your bond deepened, you vowed yourself eternally to him, making you his wife.

Then came the moment that changed everything came with a cold wind.

You had been feeling unwell, you were unsure what it could possibly be. When you told Orlok, he got extremely concerned.

He just married you. He cannot lose you already.

And so, together, you looked for answers.

Then one evening, you realised what it was. The truth ran down your spine with a chill but your heart quickened with excitement.

“A child?” Orlok’s voice trembled, his eyes wide with disbelief. “But how? Such a thing should not be possible.”

“And yet it is. Our love defies all logic, Orlok. Why should this be any different?”

His eyes searched yours, thinking you were telling him a lie so cruel. But he finds no lie, only love.

From that moment on, Orlok was filled with a new purpose.

He became fiercely protective, ensuring your every need was met. Though he had walked the earth for centuries, he had never felt such hope, and he guarded it with all of his being.

As your pregnancy progressed, you shared such sweet moments.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the library, you felt the first flutter of movement within you.

Gasping, you placed your hand on your belly.

“What is it?” Orlok was instantly on his feet, moving close to you, his eyes full of concern.

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach, letting him feel the faint but unmistakable kick.

“Can you feel that? He’s moving,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “Our son is alive and well.” You never knew such happiness.

For a moment, Orlok was utterly still. Waiting for another movement to confirm what you are saying. Just to be sure.

And then he felt the unmistakeable kick.

Then, a rare smile broke across his face.

“He is strong. Just like his mother.”

During the day, you slept in a comfortable bed, with your husband in his coffin.

But during the nights when you both woke up, the air was filled with anticipation and pure happiness.

Orlok would read to you from ancient texts, his deep voice a soothing lullaby for both you and the life growing within you.

He would trace the curve of your belly with careful fingers, speaking softly to the child.

“You will know no fear, little one. You will be loved, as I have never known how to love until now.”

But the world beyond the castle was not kind.

Rumours of your pregnancy spread, reaching the ears of those who desired to destroy what they did not understand.

Hunters, priests, and mercenaries conspired to end your ungodly union. One fateful night, the castle was surrounded.

But Orlok was a force of nature, his supernatural strength unmatched as he defended you and your unborn child.

Orlok fought them off. The smell of blood filled the castle as you hid in your chambers, doors locked, protecting yourself and your child.

The hunters fled in terror as they watched Orlok kill every last one of their friends.

But they couldn't run far.

The Count's anger was greater than theirs.

All men were dead before the moon even reached the highest point in the sky.

When the danger had passed, Orlok returned to you as he knelt before you, his hands trembling as they rested on your belly.

“You saved us, thank you." you whispered as he pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss filled with gratitude and tenderness.

“I will protect you both, always,” he vowed. “Whatever it takes.”

Months later, the castle was quiet once more, but this time it was a peaceful silence.

In your arms, you held your son, his tiny hand clutching Orlok’s long finger.

"He is beautiful," Orlok said. "You gave me the greatest gift. A legacy."

You smiled, still rather exhausted, but you found the strength to stay focused.

The boy had your warmth and Orlok’s piercing eyes, a perfect blend of light and darkness.

The three of you were a family, bound by love that defied the laws of nature.

Outside the cold walls of the castle, the world wept for it had known, that the darkness now had a son.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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writingwisterias · 2 days ago

Note

Might be a weird request but could you do eras leon reacting to you telling him you wanna keep your shirt on during sex because your insecure?

Heyyy!

I can do this! I hope you have a great day 😘💕

Warnings: NSFW, Insecurities, Fluff, Comfort

Gn!Reader

RE2:

A sweet heart about it honestly

He would go to remove it at first, his hands itching to touch the skin underneath it but when you grab his wrist he instantly stops

His head is shooting up to look at you with concern thinking he's done something wrong

When you tell him his features falter slightly not in disappointment but just hurt that you feel like that

He'll make it his mission to show you how much he loves your body keeping the shirt on.

He wants you comfortable and if that will help then he's fine with it

Maybe eventually you'll feel comfortable enough

Re4r:

I like the idea that Leon is also haunted from his own scars,

no he's not bothered by them enough to keep his own shirt on but he understands more as to why you don't like it

He's not going to push you in anyway, he wants you to feel comfortable and fully be in the moment

So if having your shirt on is going to be the way that works for you then he's cool with that

He can kiss your breasts through the shirt anyway

Infinite darkness:

As soon as you let him know he'll respect it

but he's whispering sweet nothings about how much he loves your body and find it's so sexy

I'm talking like in detail about the effect you have on him and a simple thought it enough for him to get a raging boner

You are blushing mess by the end of the sex but he has helped you gain back some confidence at least

He won't try and find the route of your insecurities and just understand that everyone has them.

He wants you to know that he doesn't care and it's okay to be vulnerable with him

Damnation:

Might offer to swap out your shirt with one of his so it's looser

He doesn't care at the end of the day he just wants you comfortable

If you did swap to one of his shirts then at least the material is thin and breathable (thinking of his compression shirts) so you can still feel his touch and lips on your breasts through the fabric

His hands might slide underneath to hold you as I think he just enjoys skin to skin contact

If you don't like that then he'll just stop and hold you over the shirt or your thighs etc

RE6:

Places his hands either side of you away from that area

He doesn't want to draw attention to your insecurities only really make you feel good.

He'll avoid that area completely if you want him to

After sex he will sit and talk about it, opting to come up with ways that work for you in sex

I think Leon likes the skin to skin but is willing to sacrifice that are if you really don't want to.

There's always other ways he can gain the same contact.

Vendetta:

With his headspace I think he wouldn't really think about it

There's a lot happening in his head so its fair for him to respect your issues just like you respect his.

It would worry him, you are currently his main source of happiness by simply being happy

So hearing this he will work to make sure you appreciate yourself and know that he does as well.

He wont force you to do anything though, he's just going to make sure you are happy

He doesn't need the world ruining you too

Death Island:

I think he's the most compassionate one with the subject out of all of them

He's really going to nail it in your head that you are perfect, whilst still respecting your wishes

He's going to whispering and chanting to you everything he loves (Which is all of you)

Might occasionally pay extra attention to the area but only if you are having a good day, he wants to show you how much he loves it

Maybe leaving marks on your stomach so when you do look at it, you think about him instead of all the imperfections

#~mads rambles #~mads~mail💌#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #~eras leon kennedy

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stripedwolf88 · 19 hours ago

Text

heyyyy thanks for tagging me

I wish people noticed how much I notice them. Or like the things I do for them that are specifically for them. Like it'd be cool if one day I do or say something that I remember about that person and I look up to them having that secret/soft smile like "of course you remembered haha"

Chocolate. Always chocolate.

Peanuts definitely. Cashews are fine but I like peanuts more.

Agathario. Enough said.

Either Legend of Korra or MLP FIM. (Okay it's actually glee but I hardly interact with the fandom anymore.)

One. It's English. (I don't know enough Spanish to put down two.)

Of like all time? Idk prob Paramore, P!nk, or Taylor Swift.

Oh this is fun because I've been reading both fanfic and an actual book recently. Okay so my book is Girls of Storm and Shadow by Natasha Ngan. And the last fanfic I read...I'll just say it's an agathario one and end it there HAHA.

Oh rainy weather all the way. I don't like when it's cold but I'll take it if there is rain. Also rain is great. The smell. The sound. The puddles. The way it looks.

I mean can I just say soda? More of an addiction really but...eh. Specifically Pepsi has been really good.

New questions ~

What's the most unexpected thing you said that has made someone laugh?

What's the color you choose as a "favorite color" when your actual favorite color is unavailable?

Do you think eating desserts such as pie and ice cream or hot brownie and ice cream should be eaten with a spoon or fork?

Do you open bottles with your non dominant hand like me?

How often do you restart your phone?

How often do you think you say I love you to your friends?

Do you have siblings?

What are your thoughts on having kids?

Is water wet?

How has your day been?

NP tags: @wonderrwoman00 @verdantsecretgardens @detective-jane-rizzoli @thearcher1003 (I actually want to see your answers to some of these 😌 hope that's okay)

Ten questions to ask a mutual

Instructions: prev asks ten questions and you answer them, then ask ten new ones and tag ten people to keep the chain going! I’ll go first

What is the weirdest thing you’ve eaten? (For me it’s the time I accidentally drank ants)

do you like purple or green more? (For me it’s a 50/50 I love them both)

what is your favorite two color color combo? (For me it’s purple and gold)

are you a cat or dog person? (Dogs 100%)

what is your favorite painting (Miranda by John William Waterhouse)

Mountains or beaches? (Mountains)

what’s your favorite dessert? (Lemon bars)

are you right or left handed? (Right but I used to be left handed)

salty or sweet? (Sweet)

summer or winter? (Winter)

I’m tagging 11 people but it’s whatever

@wra1th-k1ng

@bladevoyager

@tragedyanddust

@kindred-spirit-93

@urfavgreekmythnerd

@sickneurotic

@ry-diggity

@we-are-but-dead-stars

@thestarryfalls

@tamaruaart

@hermesmoly

#tags #tag game

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heliosunny · 17 hours ago

Note

Your yandere crown prince phainon was soo GOOD, I fell in love with the way you write him omg?? I hope you will make a part 3 of it!!

At first I nv thought he'd received this much love haha. Here at my blog, you ask n you shall receive.

Yandere! Crown Prince Phainon x Reader - P3

Visit [Part 1]; [Part 2]

The king and queen had been patient at first.

But patience only lasted so long.

“You have been married for months, and yet there is no news” the queen sighed, gracefully sipping her tea as you sat with her in the royal gardens.

The king, seated beside her, nodded in agreement. “Phainon was our strongest. We expect great heirs from him, my dear.”

You nearly choked on your tea.

“Your Majesties-” you began, but the queen only gave you an amused glance.

“We do not mean to pressure you,” she said sweetly. “But we are looking forward to hearing good news soon.”

You offered a polite smile, trying not to let your exhaustion show. “Phainon and I have been quite busy with state affairs-”

“Yes, yes” the king waved a hand. “But surely you can....multitask.”

Your cheeks burned.

You knew Phainon adored his parents, but they were relentless.

Phainon, of course, had no problem with their expectations.

Every night, after a long day of handling state affairs, he would slip into your chamber and coddle himself against you, resting his head in your lap, holding you close, occasionally mumbling half-asleep words about keeping you in bed for an entire day.

“They are right, you know” he murmured one evening, nuzzling against your shoulder as you tried- and failed to finish your paperwork.

“Phainon...” you sighed, trying to push him off gently.

“We could stay in bed for days” he continued lazily. “Just you and me, no responsibilities”

“And an entire kingdom left to ruin?” you retorted, still writing.

He huffed against your skin. “The kingdom can wait. My wife cannot.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We will discuss this when we’re not drowning in work.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t sound convinced.

But he did, at least, let you finish.

A few days later, while you were buried in paperwork, Castorice arrived unexpectedly.

“Your Highness, I need your help.”

You looked up, surprised by her determined expression. “What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I need… love advice.”

You blinked. Then, setting your papers aside, you gestured for her to sit. “Tell me everything.”

She hesitated for a moment before sighing. “There’s someone I like. But I don’t know how to approach them.”

“Do they know you well?”

“Somewhat” she muttered. “But they never seem to notice me that way.”

You smiled knowingly. “Then we’ll just have to see how they feel, won’t we?”

You and Castorice devised a simple plan: observe her love interest from afar and analyze their behavior.

Of course, this required leaving the palace, which meant sneaking out carefully.

And that meant Phainon didn’t know where you were. That was a problem.

Because when he realized you had left without informing him, his mind immediately jumped to one conclusion: She’s avoiding me.

Phainon, for all his strength and confidence, was utterly terrible at handling the idea that you might lose interest in him.

So when you returned that evening, completely unaware of his brooding thoughts, you found him sitting in your chamber, blue eyes unreadable as he watched you enter.

You paused, sensing something was off. “Phainon?”

“Did you have fun?” he asked smoothly.

You blinked. “What?”

“With Castorice” he continued, voice eerily calm. “You seemed quite… occupied.”

You sighed, setting down your cloak. “Phainon, if you’re upset, just say it.”

His jaw clenched slightly. “I am not upset.”

You arched a brow. “You are upset.”

He huffed, looking away.

“I merely find it interesting” he muttered, “that you had the time to wander the city for her but cannot spare a moment for us.”

Your eyes softened. You stepped closer, cupping his face gently. “Phainon. I am not avoiding you.”

His hands came up to hold your wrists, his grip firm. “Are you certain?”

“Absolutely” you murmured. “Castorice needed help. That’s all. And besides-” You smirked slightly. “Are you really jealous?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“I do not get jealous” he muttered.

You chuckled. “Oh? Then why are you sulking?”

There was only silence. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he pulled you into his lap, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I missed you” he admitted quietly.

“I missed you too.”

And just like that, his grip tightened, as if reminding himself that no matter the distractions, no matter the politics- You were still his.

“You must come, Your Highness” Castorice urged, a playful glint in her eyes. “It will be a lovely gathering- tea, gossip, and good company.”

You chuckled, setting aside your paperwork. “A gathering of noble ladies, you mean?”

“Exactly” she grinned. “You have been so busy. This is a chance to relax.”

You hesitated briefly, but then nodded. “Alright. Just for a while.”

Little did you know, not everyone at the tea party was pleased by your presence.

The moment you arrived at the elegant garden, a certain noblewoman- Lady Evelyne, greeted you with a forced smile.

“Your Highness” she said smoothly. “What an honor to have you here.”

You returned the courtesy, though something in her gaze felt off.

Throughout the afternoon, she and her followers exchanged glances, whispering behind their teacups. You could feel the weight of their envy, resentment hidden beneath polite words.

“The Crown Prince must adore you” one lady mused with a fake smile. “To choose you over so many other suitable ladies.”

You met her gaze steadily. “I would hope a marriage is based on more than just suitability.”

A few chuckled, but Evelyne’s eyes darkened.

And from that moment, you knew.

She was not simply envious. She was bitter.

As evening fell, you bid farewell to Castorice and the others, preparing to return to the palace. But Evelyne had plans.

She and her followers arranged for a carriage accident, one that would make it seem like a mere misfortune.

“She is just a noble by birth” Evelyne murmured to her accomplices. “Not a true royal. If something were to happen to her, perhaps the prince would realize his mistake.”

And so, as your carriage passed through a dimly lit path. The wheels snapped. The horses reared. The entire vehicle lurched before tumbling to the side.

Pain shot through your body as you hit the cold ground, disoriented. And before you could react, figures emerged from the darkness.

Back at the palace, Phainon’s brows furrowed as he stood at Castorice’s side.

“She has not returned from the party.” he said, voice low.

Castorice frowned. “Impossible, she left some time ago. She should already be back.”

Phainon’s expression darkened.

“Something is wrong.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel, issuing orders to his guards.

“Find her. Now.”

In his chest, beneath the calm fury, a sickening fear took root. If something had happened to you, there would be no mercy.

By the time Phainon arrived at the scene, the assailants had already moved in.

But they had not expected him.

A gloved hand shot forward, grabbing one attacker by the throat. A sickening crack echoed as the prince threw them aside with no hesitation.

The others barely had time to react before Phainon’s sword gleamed in the moonlight, swift, merciless.

Finally, he saw you. Bruised. Hurt.

A heartbeat later, he was at your side, gathering you into his arms.

“Who did this?” his voice was deathly quiet, his fingers tightening.

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth. “It was…” You hesitated. “Lady Evelyne.”

Phainon stilled.

“I see...She thinks she can harm my wife and go unpunished?”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, my love. I will handle this.”

Evelyne had expected repercussions.

But not this.

She knelt in the dimly lit chamber of the palace dungeons, wrists bound with thick iron cuffs, her face pale as she watched the crown prince enter.

Phainon did not speak at first. He merely stood there, tall, composed, eyes gleaming with something terrible. Then, in a voice so calm it sent shivers down her spine, he said, “You attempted to harm my wife.”

Evelyne swallowed hard. “Your Highness, I-”

“You dared to lay a hand on the Crown Princess,” he continued, voice unwavering. “and you thought you would live to boast about it?”

The sheer finality in his tone made her blood run cold. This was not a man who threatened. This was a man who delivered.

And so, Lady Evelyne and her conspirators were sentenced: Public disgrace. Wealth and titles stripped. Families exiled.

But for Evelyne herself? Phainon had far worse in mind.

When you found out, you insisted on seeing him.

Despite your injuries.

Despite your weakness.

You dragged yourself from bed, barely making it to the royal hall where he sat, issuing commands.

The moment Phainon saw you, his gaze hardened. “You should be resting” he said, immediately rising from his seat.

But you shook your head. “I came to ask for mercy.”

His eyes darkened.

“For her?”

You took a slow breath. “I want her to suffer, too. But this will not erase what happened. Let this be enough.”

For the first time in days, Phainon hesitated.

You were still weak. Still recovering. And yet, you had come all this way just to beg for someone who had nearly taken you from him. Phainon clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching in restraint.

“Fine.” But there was no relief in his voice. Only begrudging compliance. “But do not ask me for such mercy again.”

When Mydei and Anaxa heard what happened, they were quick to come to your side.

“We should have ensured your safety” Anaxa admitted, voice heavy with guilt. “It was reckless to let you return alone.”

Mydei nodded. “We won’t let this happen again.”

You offered them both a tired smile. “It was not your fault. But thank you.”

Still, you could tell that from this moment on, they would not let you be so vulnerable again. And neither would Phainon.

After that night, something changed in the palace.

The noblewomen who once whispered behind their fans now lowered their gazes in Phainon’s presence.

Servants spoke in hushed tones about what had happened to Evelyne.

The message was clear: No one was to touch the Crown Princess.

Not unless they wished to meet a merciless fate.

And so, you found yourself at the center of cautious admiration.

Not just as the prince’s beloved wife, but as the only one who could soften his wrath.

Days later, as you lay in your sickbed, Castorice arrived with an unfamiliar man at her side.

“Your Highness,” she said with a small smile. “I wanted to introduce someone.”

The man beside her bowed deeply. “It is an honor, Crown Princess.”

He was polite. Refined. And when he looked at Castorice, there was genuine admiration in his eyes.

You studied him for a moment, then gave Castorice the smallest nod of approval.

Her expression brightened.

“I knew you would understand!”

You chuckled softly. “Just… choose wisely.”

Because even now, you knew- Love was a dangerous thing.

That evening, Phainon returned from court matters only to find an unfamiliar man had been in your presence.

His expression immediately soured.

“Who was he?” he asked, tone clipped.

You sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Castorice’s love interest.”

Phainon was not convinced.

“And what was he doing in your chamber?”

You gave him a tired look. “Introducing himself. Nothing more.”

Still, he loomed over you, arms crossing. “I don’t like it.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Are you jealous again?”

His blue eyes narrowed.

“You are my wife” he murmured, leaning in. “Why would I not be?”

You reached up, brushing a hand over his cheek. “Then stop sulking. Castorice is happy. That should be enough.”

He exhaled, leaning into your touch. “As long as he knows his place.”

You shook your head with a small laugh.

The palace had been peaceful for weeks. No new assassination attempts. No political rivalries stirring.

But peace never lasted long.

“Your Highness, urgent news from the eastern border.”

A messenger arrived at the court in haste, kneeling before Phainon as he presented a sealed letter.

Phainon broke the wax and scanned the contents, his expression shifting from intrigue to frustration to thinly veiled rage.

“The border defenses are failing” he said, voice calm but heavy with warning. “A foreign faction is exploiting the weakness left after the last war.”

You watched from your seat beside him, fingers tightening on the armrest.

“Do we know who leads them?” you asked.

The messenger hesitated.

“It is not just one faction, Your Highness. A coalition has formed mercenaries, rogue nobles, and…” He swallowed. “One of our own generals.”

The court stilled. A traitor.

Phainon’s grip on the letter crumpled the parchment.

“His name?”

“General Orpheus, Your Highness.”

The weight of betrayal settled over the room.

Orpheus was once a trusted military leader, one who fought beside Phainon in past campaigns. Now, he had turned against the crown.

Phainon’s jaw clenched.

“Then I will deal with him myself.”

Later that night, you found him in the war chambers, pouring over maps and battle reports, his eyes sharp with focus.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you asked softly.

He didn’t look up. “I must.”

You stepped closer. “You just secured the kingdom. If you leave now, others will use this as an opportunity to create disorder in court.”

“If I don’t leave, the border will fall” he countered.

You knew he was right. But something about this war felt different.

“Let me go with you” you said.

His head snapped up. “No.”

“I can help-”

“No.”

His voice left no room for argument.

“You are still recovering. I will not risk your life again.”

You met his gaze defiantly. “And I will not sit idle while you fight alone.”

A dangerous silence stretched between you.

He exhaled slowly, reaching forward to cradle your face.

“I swore to protect you. And if I must cut down an entire army to ensure you remain safe, then I will.”

His forehead rested against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Stay here, my love. Wait for me.”

You closed your eyes.

Because no matter how much you wanted to stand by his side, you knew he would never allow it.

Days passed.

The battle waged in the east.

And then—The betrayal struck.

Not from the battlefield, but within the palace itself. Late one evening, a servant rushed into your chambers, breathless.

“Your Highness! The council— they are trying to strip the prince of his authority!”

You froze. “What?”

“The royal ministers...Duke Varion, Marquis Sareth...they claim that Phainon’s campaign is reckless. That he seeks war only for his own ambition.”

Your blood turned cold.

The moment Phainon left the capital, these leeches had taken their chance to turn the court against him.

You rose swiftly, ignoring the lingering ache in your body.

“Summon the council immediately.”

If they thought you would be a weak regent in Phainon’s absence, you have to prove that they were wrong.

When you entered the council chamber, every noble eye turned to you. The ministers sat in their high-backed chairs, their expressions carefully neutral. But you saw it—the quiet defiance.

Duke Varion stood. “Your Highness, we mean no disrespect, but we must question whether it is wise to let the Crown Prince—”

“Enough.”

Your voice was not loud. But it carried authority.

Varion hesitated.

You stepped forward, eyes sharp.

“You claim my husband is reckless?”

“We claim he is endangering the kingdom-”

“He is defending it,” you cut in smoothly. “And yet, while he sheds blood for this land, you sit here—plotting how to weaken him.”

You let the moment of silence stretch, let the weight of your words settle.

Then, voice calm but unyielding, you said:

“If anyone wishes to challenge the Crown Prince’s rule, they may do so when he returns.

“And I promise” your gaze swept over them, cold and unrelenting“he will return.”

When Phainon finally rode back into the capital—victorious, bloodstained, and utterly unforgiving

He wasted no time in purging the court.

Duke Varion? Stripped of his lands.

Marquis Sareth? Exiled.

Any noble who had dared to question his authority? Crushed beneath the weight of his retribution.

When he finally reached you, his hardened expression softened. You were waiting at the palace gates, your heart pounding as he dismounted his warhorse.

Without hesitation, he strode toward you, ignoring the watching nobles, ignoring the blood still drying on his gloves, he pulled you into his arms.

“You protected my rule” he murmured into your hair.

“Of course,” you whispered. “Did you think I would let them take what is ours?”

His grip tightened.

“My love,” he whispered, voice raw, “how could I ever deserve you?”

You pulled back just enough to cup his face.

“You do.”

Without another word, he kissed you.

It had been another exhausting day. Meetings. Political disputes. The lingering tension from Phainon’s latest campaign.

But above all—

His parents.

“When will we expect an heir?” the Queen had asked over dinner, smiling ever so sweetly.

You nearly choked on your tea. Again.

The King only laughed. “We are not rushing, of course.”

But they were.

Their eyes gleamed with barely concealed excitement, expectant whenever they looked between you and Phainon.

The moment you left the dining hall, you sighed.

“They aren’t going to let this go.”

Beside you, Phainon smirked.

“They are not wrong to be impatient.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course you would say that.”

But he only hummed, his eyes glinting with something wicked.

“Perhaps it is time we oblige them, my love.”

The moment you entered your chambers, Phainon wasted no time.

He cornered you before you could step away, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the wall.

“Are you tired?” he murmured, his voice deep, velvety.

You swallowed.

“A little.”

His lips brushed your ear.

“I’ll be gentle, then.”

Heat curled low in your stomach.

“Phainon-”

His hand slid to your waist, his touch warm.

“Tell me,” he murmured, pressing a slow kiss against your pulse, “do you want this?”

You shivered beneath his touch.

“Yes.”

That was all he needed.

Between silken sheets and tangled limbs, Phainon worshipped you.

His kisses traced reverent paths down your skin, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You are mine” he whispered against your lips, eyes dark with desire. “And I will make sure the world knows it.”

You gasped as he moved against you, his warmth consuming you whole.

“You speak as if I am not already yours” you teased, breathless.

His grip tightened.

“I know you are” he murmured, “but I will make sure there is no doubt.”

A vow sealed beneath moonlight and quiet, desperate gasps. And as he finally held you close, the weight of his love sinking into your bones, you knew— This was more than just duty. More than just an heir.

When the morning light streamed through the curtains, you stirred, muscles pleasantly sore.

Phainon was already awake, lying beside you, his arm draped over your waist.

“Good morning, my love” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

You sighed. “Morning.”

His hand traced idle patterns against your skin. “How are you feeling?”

You turned to him, arching a brow. “Why don't you guess?”

His smirk was unapologetic.

“I was thorough last night.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Do you think… it worked?”

A rare softness crossed his features.

“Perhaps.” You bit your lip, fingers brushing over his hand. “If it did… would you be happy?”

He cupped your cheek.

“You are all I have ever wanted.”

And for once, there was no war. No court schemes. No looming threats. Just you and him.

#yandere x reader #yandere #phainon x you #yandere phainon #phainon honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #hsr x you #hsr x reader #honkai star rail

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harrywavycurly · 3 days ago

Text

Handle With Care: Are You Okay?

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, drinking, Harry is still a bit of an asshole and slight angsty bits

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs

A/N: Harry is showing he can be nice-ish and I love that for you, but also this part is kinda angsty👀

Summary: Harry has a party that ends with someone knocking on your door at an odd hour📦✨

Harry smiles as he walks around his crowded living room so he can reach his kitchen and he’s only mildly confused as to who some of the people are that give him friendly nods and waves, surely he knows them but just has had one too many drinks to remember the exact details of meeting them. Throwing a party wasn’t originally on his agenda for the evening but honestly he needed a distraction from the girl who lives two floors up and is entirely too nice to him that he can’t seem to stop thinking about since he met her only a few days ago. You have somehow wormed your way into his mind and he’s not sure when you’ll ever leave or if he even wants you to. It’s gotten so bad he can’t even make himself a cup of coffee in the morning without wondering if you like coffee or are you a tea person and if you do like tea which ones are your favorite and how do you like it? And frankly Harry feels like he’s gone full on looney because he knows how he’s treated you since meeting you so the odds of him ever getting to know how you take your tea or if you like coffee is very slim but it doesn’t stop him from wondering.

“This is a great party.” Harry tries to be polite as Heather, the girlfriend of one of his fraternity brothers leans in to give him a half hug once he enters the kitchen. He really does try to give her a nice genuine smile but all he can think of when she hugs him is how her perfume is far too sweet smelling and it makes him miss a certain floral scent that has a hint of something else he hasn’t been able to put his finger on because he’s not sure what exactly makes the sunshine smell but he thinks it’s something citrusy.

“Thanks.” He knows his tone isn’t full of enough excitement as it should be considering there’s a party happening around him but he can’t help it. Because as it turns out surrounding himself with random people hasn’t helped in the way he thought it would because instead of the party being a distraction it only seems to amplify the fact his crowded living room is missing the one person he wants to see.

Heather doesn’t bother asking what’s wrong, too distracted by someone grabbing her hand and leading her out of the kitchen to the makeshift dance floor that’s just the space between the couch and his entertainment center. Harry takes the opportunity now that he finds himself alone in his kitchen to let out a deep sigh and lean against his counter near the fridge. Normally he’s a better host, doing his duty to make sure people are having fun and don’t need anything but tonight he can’t be bothered to care if everyone is enjoying themselves or not because honestly he kind of hopes if they’re having a horrible time then they’ll all leave and he can be left alone to his thoughts that somehow always lead him right back to you.

“Harry where are your-” Niall stops talking when he notices his curly haired friend is leaning against his kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge and a frown on his face with his eyes closed. “Harry?” Niall takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder but as soon as Niall reaches his hand out Harry’s eyes open causing both men to be startled and jump a bit.

“Jesus Christ Niall what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who’s sleeping during his own bloody party you twat!”

“Wasn’t s’leeping.” Harry mumbles making Niall roll his eyes as he walks over to the sink that Harry has filled with ice and various bottles of liquor and beer.

“What’s got you lookin all doom and gloom huh? Your ex here or-”

“I’m not all doom and gloom you asshole I’m just tired that’s all.” Harry says with a sigh as he runs a hand over his face before looking out into his living room.

“Tired huh? I’m callin’ bullshit mate.” Harry turns his head just as Niall cracks open a beer, a smug looking smile on his face as he stares back at him.

“Oh fuck off. Just go back to flirting with everyone that smiles at you and leave me alone.” Niall laughs and shakes his head before taking a sip of his beer while Harry crosses his arms over his chest as a scowl takes over his face because his annoying Irish friend won’t just let him sulk in his own kitchen by himself.

“Why don’t you just go invite her to the party and be done with it?” At this Harry lets out a scoff as if what Niall just had the nerve to say to him is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.

“Am I supposed to know who you’re referring-”

“Oh my god dude you’re actually fuckin’ annoying me now.” Niall puts his beer down on the counter next to the sink so he can walk over and put both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Go ask her to come down for a drink so you can stop mopping around like a wet blanket because it’s getting on my nerves so if you don’t go do it then I will.” Harry narrows his eyes into a harsh glare as Niall tells him that he’ll go to your door because if there’s something that Niall knows about Harry it’s that he’s always been a jealous person so the image of Niall knocking on your door instead of him is enough to make his jaw clench and his blood want to start boiling.

“Like hell you will.” Harry snaps as he practically shoves Niall off of him, while to anyone watching this would look like the beginnings of a fight it’s actually exactly the kind of reaction Niall was aiming for so he just steps back with a smile on his face. “If anyone is going to go bother her it’s gonna be me you wonky kneed-”

“Okay okay I get it I won’t go knock on her door.” Niall says with a laugh as he goes to grab his beer off the counter. “Just be quick with it you lanky fuck.” Niall adds as he turns to head back into the living room to join the rest of the people at the party leaving Harry standing in his kitchen annoyed that he just fell for whatever trick Niall just played on him.

“Fuckin asshole.” He mumbles to himself as he runs a hand through his hair while heading for his front door. He grabs his keys off the table by the door and pats his pockets to double check he has his phone because if you do decline his invite then maybe at least he can try to get your number, just so next time he can properly invite you instead of asking you to come over two hours after the party starts.

You reach over and turn the lamp on your nightstand off before getting comfortable in your bed for the night. Seeing as it’s nearly one in the morning you let out a sleepy sigh as you close your eyes. You don’t drift off the sleep right away, your mind is still going a mile a minute with random thoughts of the green eyed boy that helped you move. While for the most part he wasn’t the friendliest person you’ve come across you still can’t help but think that maybe he was just having a rough few days having to adjust from living in a giant house with ten other guys to living alone, after all it can be hard being alone with just you and your thoughts all the time and Niall did tell you Harry was very popular so maybe he just doesn’t do well alone. And to your annoyance no matter how rude he may have been it doesn’t change the fact he is extremely handsome with his green eyes and curly brown hair and nice jawline, and not to mention the tattoos scattered in random places on his arms it makes it that much harder to just forget about him.

As if the universe can hear the inner workings of your mind you suddenly hear a very loud knock on your front door. You open your eyes and sit up to see if maybe someone just accidentally knocked on your door, mistaking it for someone else’s but when you hear a second much more deliberate sounding knock you know that’s not the case. You lean over and turn on your lamp before tossing the covers off your legs and slipping your feet into your fuzzy pink and orange polka dotted slippers. You think that something must be wrong with whoever is on the other side of the door as you hear a third knock, so you quickly rush to turn on your kitchen light before heading to your front door.

“Maybe she’s not-” Harry freezes as you swing open your door, while he was hoping to see you again he never in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined he’d see you answering the door in a pink and yellow tye dyed nightgown that seems to be a little loose fitting as one of the straps is dangerously close to falling off your shoulder.

“Harry? Are-are you okay?” Your voice is filled with worry as you look him up and down, silently wondering why he’s dressed in skinny jeans and a long sleeve black knitted shirt that allows his tattoos to show through when it’s nearly one in the morning but when you don’t see any obvious signs of a possible injury you let you eyes flicker up to his face. When you see his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly hung open you all of a sudden realize what you’re wearing and instantly cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover yourself up.

“Uhm I uh.” He clears his throat and gives his head a shake as if it’ll help clear his mind of all the wildly inappropriate thoughts he’s having all because you’re standing there in your nightgown. “I’m having a party.” You raise an eyebrow as he practically spits the words out as if they caused a bad taste in his mouth and he needed them gone.

“Oh uhm okay when is your uh party?”

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

“It started two hours ago.” While this is the most the two of you have talked without him saying something incredibly mean or with a snarky attitude you can’t help but feel like something is off with him.

“So why are you here if you have a party going on right now?” You ask and Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Niall told me to come invite you.” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come off as if Niall is the only reason he’s standing in your doorway at such an odd hour but he can tell by the way your shoulders slump and you just nod at him, that is exactly how you’re taking it.

“Well that’s sweet of Niall but-”

“I’m sorry about the plates.” You quirk a brow at his sudden outburst while Harry lets out a groan as he closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling. “Fuck fuck fuck this is going so bad.” You hear him mumble as he runs booths hand over his face and you can’t help but wonder if he meant to say that in his head instead of actually voicing it out loud.

“It’s okay.” Your soothing voice makes Harry open his eyes and look down at you as you uncross your arms so you can reach out and place a hand on his forearm.

“Really Harry it’s fine and thank you for the invite but uhm it’s a little late so maybe next time?” He only catches about every third word that leaves your mouth as he stares at the hand that’s resting on his arm, he feels the same sort of electric shock that he felt the first time you touched him being sent all the way to his toes. He blinks a few times and he wants to place his hand over yours so you can’t move it but he doesn’t so he just has to watch in silence as you remove your hand from him and place it by your side.

“Did-did you feel that?” He knows he sounds crazy the moment he asks the question but he really doesn’t care because he has to know if you felt the same zap he did or if he really is losing his mind.

“Feel what?” You look at his face as he lets out a deep sigh and that’s when you notice the slight red tint to his cheeks and the way his eyes are a bit glossed over and it hits you, he’s drunk.

“That like weird zap when you touched me? You felt it right?”

“Harry I think you’ve just had too much to drink.”

“No no I’m not drunk-well I’m not that drunk.” You just give him a soft smile as he places a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s like when you touch someone with too much static and you shock them but-but it’s a little different because I only feel it with you.” Harry knows looking back he will remember this as the moment he officially feels like he has fully lost his mind because the look on your face is one that tells him you don’t know what he’s talking about meaning you don’t feel it, it’s just him.

“Maybe it’s from my slippers?” Both of you look down at the fuzzy things on your feet but Harry knows that’s not what caused the shock because you weren’t wearing those when he felt it the first time. “Or maybe it’s-”

“It’s nothing.” He can’t handle you trying to explain away something he knows there’s no real explanation for so he just rubs his lips together and turns to look down your hallway before letting out a huff. “I’m drunk.” It’s a lie and he knows it but he can’t be bothered to care because he feels as if his heart just plummeted down to his feet and he just wants to turn and run away. It’s as if all of a sudden he’s back to the Harry you first met, his eyes are looking at you with a slight glare to them and his jaw is clenched while his hands are balled into fists at his side as if standing in front of you is making him upset in some way.

“Harry I’m-” You try to reach for him again but he takes a step back making the corners of your mouth dip downwards into a slight frown.

“This was a waste of time.” Is all Harry says before he’s turning and making his way down the hall towards the elevators leaving you standing in your doorway feeling confused as to how you somehow caused him to feel so upset that he couldn’t stand to be around you for a moment longer.

To say Harry is angry is an understatement, he should’ve known going to your apartment wasn’t going to go well because why would it? None of his previous encounters with you have ended well minus when he took a donut from you but even then he’s pretty sure he all but whispered his thank you before he left your apartment. So when he makes it back to his apartment he finds himself instantly scanning his still crowded living room for a pair of blue eyes and over bleached blonde hair that belong to the man he blames for ruining his evening and possibly his chances at ever seeming even semi normal to you. Thankfully he doesn’t have to search long before he finds Niall leaning against his wall near the hallway that his bedroom is on, a beer in his hand and a smile on his face as some girl who Harry doesn’t know chats to him about her plans for the upcoming weekend.

Niall catches Harry heading right for him and he can tell by the way his nostrils are flaring and his jaw is set that he’s not happy. So he politely excuses himself and meets Harry half way, but before Harry can even begin to go off on his Irish friend he feels Niall’s hand wrap around his arm. Harry doesn’t have time to react as Niall drags him down his hallway and shoves him into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“What happened?” Niall’s tone is harsh as he reaches over and flicks the light switch on the wall turning on the light attached to the ceiling fan while Harry glares at him as he brushes off his arm where Niall’s hand was making Niall roll his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.

“What happened is you shoved your nose in my business and now she thinks I’m fucking crazy.”

“What did you say? Did you get her number at least?”

“Doesn’t matter what I said it all went to shit and no I didn’t get her fucking number you asshole.”

“You were only gone ten minutes maybe fifteen so how the hell did you manage to fuck it up that quickly?”

“It’s just a talent I have apparently.” Harry says sarcastically as he runs both hands through his hair while he begins to pace the length of his bed that’s in the middle of the room.

“Don’t get all mad and shit okay? But Harry do you maybe-”

“Do I maybe what Niall?”

“Love her?” Niall waits a moment for an over dramatic reaction to his question but when all Harry does is stop pacing and stare at Niall with wide eyes he thinks that maybe his guess is correct and Harry is just now being hit with the reality of it.

“Wha-what did you just ask me?” Harry stumbles over his words as all of a sudden he feels like a stack of bricks just landed on him one by one and with each one he’s hit with he gains a little more of an understanding as to why he’s been acting so strangely around you and why you’re all he can think about.

“Uh I asked if you maybe love her? I know love at first sight is a thing an all so maybe that’s what’s going on?” Niall explains with a shrug as Harry slowly sits on the edge of his bed and lets out a shaky breath.

“I don’t-don’t know what’s wrong with me Niall.” He blinks a few times as a lump begins to form in his throat. “I feel fucking crazy because she’s all I think about and I just met her and then you ask that and now -now I just don’t know what to do.” Niall feels a little useless as he watches one of his bestfriends break down right in front of him, so he just takes a few steps so he can take a seat next to him on his bed.

“Well for starters you can buy her some new plates.” Niall jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder. But it doesn’t work at all as Harry lets out a groan and covers his face in his hands.

“How do you know about the plates?” Niall chuckles as he gives Harry’s shoulder a good squeeze before dropping his hand away.

“As if that girl would just drop a box of her own stuff and then set it on her counter upside down.”

“I’ve never dropped a box before.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I love her but I think-” Harry lets out a deep breath as he looks down at his hands that are in his lap. “I really like her.” He admits making Niall smile as he stands up off the bed and takes a step towards Harry’s bedroom door.

“Then you’ll just have to fix it mate and if anyone can get themselves out of a tricky spot it’s you.” Niall says as he turns so he can face Harry, it’s the best he can do to reassure him that it’ll be okay he just has to work on it a bit.

“Thanks.” With that Niall just gives him a little nod and a reassuring smile before he turns and opens the door so he can go back to the party.

Harry lays back on his bed with his feet still on the floor and stares at his ceiling and even though he has a party happening just outside his bedroom door he finds himself preferring the solitude of his bedroom so he can think of possible ways of fixing this extremely messed up situation he’s found himself in. Because Harry decides in this very moment he doesn’t like the way your face looks with a frown on it and he surely doesn’t like it when he knows he’s the reason you’re frowning so he’s going to do whatever it takes to erase any the negative thoughts you have of him and replace them with good ones. And as of right now he is done being an asshole it’s time he shows you just how nice and charming he can be because as he just admitted to Niall, he really likes you.

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sonic-au-collision · 3 days ago

Text

SONIC AU COLLISION: FINAL RESULTS

And that's a wrap folks! Without further ado, I present to you the winner of our first ever Sonic AU Collision: @flightyalrighty with their AU, Infested!!!

Thank you all once again for helping make this such an amazing experience. Sonic AU Collision couldn't have happened at all without you guys. I hope that through this event, you've discovered AUs you love that you haven't even known of before. I know I have. And if you haven't, I encourage you to look through the round 1 tags to see a glimpse of all AUs that have participated in our first event.

Now, while we wait on some news for the upcoming Mini Collision this spring, this blog will now function as an AU showcase. Meaning any AU I find or that I am tagged in, will be reblogged here for others to discover under the tag #world entry log! You don't have to have participated in the collision to tag me!

Quick guidelines/rules to keep in mind when tagging me:

Do not tag this blog in any sexual content. This is because of a personal preference AND I am a minor!

Blood & minor gore is fine. Please include content warnings

At least for the first time you tag me in your AU, include its name somewhere so I can tag it properly for organizational purposes!

Hate speech, derogatory language, etc. is not permitted

Essentially, the same rules as tagging me for propaganda in the collision.

Also! I have decided that every Saturday, there will be an AU Spotlight when the collision is not ongoing. This means, if your AU is the one to be in the spotlight, that AU will be this blog's entire focus for the entire day! I will not be reblogging any other AUs except the one in the spotlight. The hope here is to continue discovering and supporting wonderful AUs to a great extent even without the collision.

More information on the AU Spotlight (and sign-ups) will come later this week. This is for the spotlight, not collision. This upcoming Saturday, on February 1st, will have to be skipped while I take the time to set things up.

With all that being said, I hope you've all had and will continue to have fun creating wonder with your AUs. If you wanna come find me for unrelated things or even see collision sneak peeks/behind the scenes, my main account is @starzdeath. I already posted some important dates regarding upcoming collisions :)

One last thing. Since this was the first AU Collision, I'd like to ask you all to fill out this feedback form. This one is different than the one I've had linked on each bracket. It goes more in depth when asking in certain areas you believe I did well or not so well in. This way, I can make future collisions better. Thank you for your honesty <3

This is Sonic AU Collision, aka Ghost, signing off for now o7

#sth #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic art #sonic au #sonic au collision #collision report #feedback #final results #world: infested

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euphoria-looney · 9 hours ago

Note

Uie wait so if ever when they start to go yandere for the reader, what happens to Serena? Or what is her deal basically? Is the entire thing from powers or their own volition or something? Are they being controlled by someone else? I'm kind of invested in the fic now OvO

Or, if ever, would reader go back for one of the love interest once they go yandere or are the love interests still the same? Will they turn yandere too or will they just be the same? Admittedly I just want them all to grovel and I really want reader to make them all suffer 👉👈

Thank you for your 'who said money can't buy happiness?' fic because it activated my neurons I live the manwha concept (no matter how much it boils my blood in the good ptsd manner everytime I read it) but also I really want another crumb of og!villainess/villain!reader because they really softened my heart, the entire thing reminds me of that one manwha with the fmc Penelope Eckart

Sorry for being long! I hope your day goes great and thank you for writing such lovely pieces of literature!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

For the first question, "What happens when they all go yandere on [name], and what happens to Serena?" They still care for her and they still love her but it’s just not as strong as it used to be especially with [name] changed now being the main character of the story her story, Serena will be on a balanced scale whether she still wants to be the center of attention and whether she wants [names] attention only on her and find everyone else as competitors.

The second question, "What's her deal?" Her deal is that that’s just how she behaves and how she acts from the moment she kinda existed in this universe she has a main character role and she obviously doesn’t know that she’s inside a novel so she’s just acting how she normally is. She is the female lead so everything will go her way. She’ll be smart, capable, and a lovable character from the reader's point of view from the og! Novel.

Whenever you read her since it’s in [name]'s POV and I like to portray her character negatively as of now what’s happening in the universe of how she acts we think she’s annoying but when we were in the other world, Serena was the main character of the novel 'I Stole the Villainess Loving Family'. She was the badass MC that you would love to read about but cringe so much that you would have to drop the novel.

On the third question, no, Serena is not being controlled by anybody. She is following the plot which is actually all her own actions. This is how she behaves. This is how she acts from your perspective. If you were in her POV, you would have to understand that she has been the main character everybody around her has admired her, loved her, and worshiped her simply because she was placed in a position as the female lead, which made a ton of people attracted to her.

Fourth, there will be many love interests that go from Serena to [name] or just love interests that simply got created because they have spent and developed with [name].

[name] Unfortunately for now, if there are no changes to my plot, will not fall in love with any of them and avoid them if anything because of how they treated her and how they treated the og! Princess [name] it is because she believes why should love someone only when they start changing and it annoys [name] to a point where she cannot, and will not forgive anybody who suddenly develops attention or attraction towards her because they only change when they start interacting with the new [name].

It just wouldn't make sense why she'd forgive them when she knew what Princess!Reader went through how the people changed around her when they treated Princess!Reader like a joke.

There will be a lot of crumbs of OG!princess [name] because in her world, technically modern old world there’s a version of batfam of their own where they neglected her, which is why the OG!modern!reader is called neglected!reader because in their own world batfam neglected them, and they left. They built a successful business of their own and made friends, and unlike in the historical kind of novel setting we have a modern one where she has never met any of the Batfams enemies or allies so that just opens up a whole other world of love interest for her as well, so sometimes I'll write her, but not a lot as she’s not the main focus of my "Who Said Money Can’t Buy Happiness?" plot.

That is all please do tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or something you're confused about 😍

#platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam

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milessunflowers · 1 day ago

Note

You’re absolutely amazing!!!! I loved the lestappen X trans!male singer readerrrrr

I was wondering if you could maybe add on, maybe like a smau or written part about the fans reaction to them dating

it’s totally fine if you don’t want to or if it’s not like creative enough, I just absolutely loved what you did with the other request… anywaysss, goodbye, hope you have a great day!! -🪼

i will do my best to get fans reactions right! I'm still not too good at smaus but i will try my best!

max verstappen x trans!singer!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: across your socials, the three of you start posting each other more and more, hard launching your relationship. fans react enthusiastically, for the most part.

author's note: after this request, i will not be taking any lestappen request for a while, but you can request separate ones for charles and max (meaning only one in the request or paired with another driver). i just think that i need to write more variety as a lot of them have been lestappen themed. this is by no means a target to anyone, this is just my decision so i can branch out with different drivers and add different elements. also badly translated french bc i don't trust google translated 100% also this kinda got off track but i think it works?? idk

yourusername

❤️ 98.6k 💬 10.5k ➣ 14.5k liked by maxverstappen1 and others yourusername my men 😍 tagged maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

view all comments...

maxverstappen1 love you 💙 ╰┈➤charles_leclerc so so much ❤️ ╰┈➤yourusername my faves ilysm 🤭💖

user1 HELLO??

user2 since uh when? ╰┈➤user3 no fr 😭

user4 this is so random (and im here for it!) ╰┈➤user5 same

user6 this is so wrong ╰┈➤yourusername hey! we didn't ask for your opinion! hope this helps 😇🫶🏻 ╰┈➤user7 what a fucking icon omg 😭

charles_leclerc

❤️ 244k 💬 104k ➣ 60k. liked by pierregasly and more charles_leclerc mes amours ❤️ tagged yourusername, maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 are those the only pictures you could find of me?? ╰┈➤charles_leclerc no but these are my favorites (and definitely not bc i chose the ones you look goofy in) ╰┈➤maxverstappen1 CHARLES ╰┈➤yourusername i love my boyfriends 😇 they're so sweet to each other and definitely don't argue ╰┈➤user8 if my relationships aren't like this i don't want them

user9 the hottest throuple like ever 😍 ╰┈➤user10 THIS!!

user11 ive only just found out abt this but i already love them so much ╰┈➤user12 we love lestappenl/n ╰┈➤user13 they are amazing together

user14 who is the guitarist? ╰┈➤user15 that is y/n l/n, a newer artist who has some amazing music! hes their boyfriend! ╰┈➤user14 thank you!!

maxverstappen1 and 2 others

❤️ 345k 💬 12.9k ➣ 6,799 liked by yourusername and more maxverstappen1 family game night tagged charles_leclerc, yourusername

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yourusername dry ass caption 🤣🫵 ╰┈➤maxverstappen1 remind me why i love you? ╰┈➤yourusername idfk 🤷‍♂️. ╰┈➤maxverstappen1 charles_leclerc HELP ME ╰┈➤charles_leclerc sorry babe, im busy

user16 do they just collectively bully max? ╰┈➤yourusername yes 😇 ╰┈➤charles_leclerc yeah ╰┈➤lando absolutely ╰┈➤danielricciardo yep ╰┈➤schecoperez sí ╰┈➤pierregasly everyday ╰┈➤user16 WHY DID THEY ALL JUST SPAWN?!

user17 family - dom torreto

yourusername

❤️ 17.8k 💬 3,483 ➣ 678 liked by schecoperez and more yourusername maxie, no matter how much i love you, checo will always be number 1 tagged schecoperez

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user18 he's dating THE MAX VERSTAPPEN and still supports his fuck ass teammate ╰┈➤yourusername INSULT CHECO AGAIN I FUCKING DARE YOU 😾 ╰┈➤user19 jesus 😭

schecoperez muchas gracias mi amigo. ╰┈➤yourusername EVERYONE SHUT UP HE CALLED ME HIS FRIEND ╰┈➤yourusername hi checo you're my favorite

maxverstappen1 im not even mad about this ╰┈➤yourusername it's bc you love him too

charles_leclerc what about me? ╰┈➤yourusername sorry love, but checo!! ╰┈➤charles_leclerc "but checo" he says. couch for you sir ╰┈➤maxverstappen1 damn good luck yourusername

maxverstappen1 and charles_leclerc

❤️ 562k 💬 12.7k ➣ 9.8k. liked by charles_leclerc and more maxverstappen1 schatje, you are truly remarkable. you are talent, creative, and such a strong person. you have overcome so much and we are proud and lucky to call you ours. we love you so much - max and charles 🫶🏻 tagged yourusername

view all comments...

user20 STOP THIS IS SO PURE 🥹

user21 the standard is so high for me now

yourusername my boys 🥹 i love you both so very much🫶🏻 i am so incredibly lucky to have both you in my life. please never leave ╰┈➤charles_leclerc yeah wouldn't dream of it mon amour ❤️ ╰┈➤maxverstappen1 we love you more💙

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile

#f1 x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula one x reader #max verstappen x male reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x male reader #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au

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screwitbaby · 21 hours ago

Text

naive

hamzahthefantastic x reader

day 6/7

summary: part 6 of the naive series!! mandy and martin get back together in the worst way possible but it’s okay because you and hamzah get to have some fun of your own…

contains: SFW and NSFW content ;-)

w/c: 2.8k-ish

It's awkward. You know that. Hamzah knows that. The mosquito buzzing by your ear knows that. You only hope Mandy knows that she scarred you for life.

"In my defense, I thought you would come back a lot later," she says.

You stare at her blankly. Martin hasn't made eye contact with you since last night. Hamzah's sat next to you, completely checked out of the conversation and scrolling on his phone. If you could click your heels three times and teleport home, you would.

"So you could fuck in my bed for several more hours?" you seethe.

"It's a hotel bed! It's not even yours!" Martin argues.

"It's a bed that I was supposed to sleep in!" You feel like you're about to pop a blood vessel. "Why didn't you just do it in your suite?!"

"It was a spur of the moment thing," Mandy says, walking over to sit next to you. "We were just going to talk. I didn't plan for it!"

Hamzah looks up from his phone and raises his eyebrows at the familiar words. You roll your eyes and turn to Mandy before he can see the red rush to your face.

"But hey, we aren't fighting anymore," Martin points out, scooping more sand over his pale chest.

He's been working on burying himself in the sand for the past hour since you and Hamzah joined them on the beach. You're grateful for that fact.

After being unpleasantly surprised by the sight of him in his birthday suit upon entering your hotel room, even a single glance at his body reminds you of the unholy vision. You and Hamzah had returned from your day on the town after eating out (ahem) and wanted a peaceful place to recover from your food comas. The couple seemed to have other ideas. You did a 180 and left without a single word.

"I don't even know what to say to you right now," you tell Martin without looking in his direction. "Mandy, why? Just why?"

"I'm sorry," she says, but there's a smile on her face that makes you scowl. "It's a little funny!"

"No, it's not!" you cry out. "Every time I shut my eyes I get a flashback to Martin's pasty asscheeks!"

"Hey!" Martin shouts. "Mandy loves these pasty a—"

"Shut up," you and Mandy say at the same time, albeit your tone is a little more hostile.

"At least you get to sleep in Hamzah's room from now on," Mandy whispers to you. You pinch her and she squeals. "I basically did you a favor!"

"You only have to do me a favor because you did some shit in the first place!"

"Guys, calm down," Hamzah says, waving his hand between you and Mandy, "we'll just get the sheets changed. It's not that big of a deal."

"So you're on their side?" you question him.

"Oh my god," Martin groans.

"Okay, if you're that disgusted, we'll get you a new room," Hamzah offers.

"They're all booked for the season," you grumble. "I checked last night after... the incident."

"And there's no way I'd pay for that," Martin says. You glare at the side of his head.

"When I said 'make up and make out' I didn't mean it literally," you tell Mandy. "I can't believe this."

"So dramatic," Hamzah teases. "C'mere."

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and even though you're upset, you don't move away. It helps you to cool off, but you can't stop your brain from wishing the clouds would part and smite the couple down in that moment. You lean closer into Hamzah's embrace and take a sip of your cocktail, avoiding Mandy's inquisitive stare.

You don't even know why you're so distressed by this whole thing, it should be a net positive that Mandy and Martin made amends. Plus, you had such a great time prior to the event, you shouldn't let it ruin your mood. It really isn't as big of a deal as you're making it out to be. Something about it rubs you the wrong way, though.

"Okay, I have one last question." Your words make the group groan and you shush them. "If I didn't walk in on you, were you going to tell me about my bed?"

The couple's silence speaks volumes.

"You fucking freaks!" you nearly scream. Hamzah flinches away from your voice and coughs into his fist to poorly disguise his laughter. "Ew! Ew-uh! What the fuck!?"

"We didn't even think that far," Mandy laughs out, "I'm sorry!"

"I hate you."

Since there isn't much to do on the beach but lie around and day drink with the two people you currently despise most, you and Hamzah decide on going someplace else. Nearing the end of a trip is usually draining, but with him it's like every minute counts for something more and that gives you the strength to push through your desire for self-isolation.

"We could get frozen yogurt?"

You shake your head.

"Go to an aquarium?"

You shake your head again.

"Do our laundry?"

"For real?" You scrunch your face in disapproval.

"I don't know what you want from me," Hamzah says, squeezing your hand tighter. "We're in a foreign place and we're bored as hell. You try to give me some ideas."

As you walk further up the street, swinging your hand in his, you spot an interesting store in your peripheral vision.

"Hamzah," you say, pointing. "We need to go."

He looks up and scoffs. "Are you 12? We're not going in there."

"Why would a 12-year-old be in a sex shop?" you joke and pull him along. "It'll be goofy and silly. Please."

"This is so stupid," he says, but ultimately obliges.

The two of you walk in and are instantly greeted by a wall of monstrous dildos. You bite your lip to not laugh out loud at Hamzah's disgruntled reaction and drag him over to an idle worker, all while he's quietly protesting your mischief.

"Please don't," he mumbles, much too late.

"Hi," you greet the worker cheerily. "My boyfriend and I would like to know some of your recommendations for starter toys."

Hamzah blushes beet red and you grin deviously.

"Sure, follow me," she replies, leading you to the back of the store.

You feast your eyes on the seemingly never-ending array of degeneracy. It reminds you of walking into the back of a Spencer's when you were in middle school, only so much more serious. This is top notch stuff. You find yourself actually becoming intrigued.

"Here we have our bestseller," the worker says, taking a toy from the shelf and presenting it to you. "This is a bullet vibrator. Great for travel."

You hum, nodding your head. Hamzah's hand is a dead weight in yours as he looks between the ceiling or his shoes, avoiding eye contact with the multitude of phalluses surrounding him.

"This here is another great pick," she says, showing you a glass dildo. "Simple, but satisfying. Comes with your choice in any of our flavored lubes."

"Ooh," you exaggerate. Hamzah makes a grunting noise and it takes all of you to keep from bursting out laughing. "Do you have anything that's more for... him?"

"Ah, yes, of course."

The worker turns to unlock a display case in the corner and brings a little rubber toy out. Hamzah rubs his eyes like he's trying to awaken from a nightmare.

"This is very popular with the tourists," she says, handing it over to you. "Press this button."

You do as she says and the cock ring not only lights up, but also starts wriggling in your hand. It tickles your palm and you giggle, reaching over to press it to Hamzah's arm to catch his attention. He jumps as if he's shocked by an electric current.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes to the worker, pinching the toy between his fingers and hastily dropping it back in the display. "I just realized I'm perfectly capable of pleasing my girlfriend on my own. Goodbye."

With that, he tugs on your hand and nearly sprints to the exit. You cackle while he makes you cross the street to get as far from the store as possible.

"It could've been worse," you tell Hamzah as he slides the key card to his door. "She didn't even get to the sex swings."

"Please shut up," he says, tired of your bullshit.

He still holds the door open for you, even though you've been messing with him all day. You walk into the room and place your shopping bags down. You had convinced Hamzah to window-shop after your little stunt, but you couldn't help yourself. You ended up buying some knickknacks and cute postcards for your family and friends back home.

"Do you mind if I take a shower in here?" you ask him, taking your shoes off.

"You're really not going back to your room?"

"You wanna get rid of me that fast?" You dramatically fall back on his bed. "I thought what we had was special."

Hamzah walks over to you and holds himself above you at arms length.

"I didn't exactly agree to the whole 'boyfriend' thing," he quips.

You pull him forward by his collar and smile. "Then why'd you call me your girlfriend?"

His eyes hone in on your lips. "I was just playing along."

"Really?" you question, placing your hand on his cheek. "And how far are you willing to play along for?"

You move up and capture his lips in a kiss. He responds eagerly, like you knew he would. His hand grips your waist and you quietly moan into the kiss, trying to rile him up. He takes the bait, pressing his body to yours and pulling the both of you further up the bed. When your head comes in contact with the pillows, you roll him over and sit in his lap to grind your hips. He tries to touch you and you stop him, holding him down by his arms. He could easily overpower you, but he stays pinned down, staring up at you with his big doe eyes.

"I don't think people who aren't really girlfriend-boyfriend should do this kind of thing..." you trail off.

You climb off the bed and walk straight to the bathroom, tossing your shirt off before closing the door behind you. You hear some shuffling outside as you strip and step under the shower head. You begin to lather some hotel body wash in your hands right when the door opens. Through the fogged glass, you see Hamzah taking his clothes off, but you pretend not to take notice as you rub the suds all over your body.

Hamzah steps into the shower behind you. You close your eyes to step under the shower head and wash the soap off, still paying him no attention. When you bend over to grab the shampoo, you feel his hands trail up your thighs and settle on your hips.

You turn with the bottle in your hands. "Do you mind?"

"Nope," he says.

He takes the bottle from you and pours some into his palm before placing it back. You watch his face as he reaches up to massage your scalp with the shampoo. He's concentrating hard, but the contact is gentle as he takes extra care of not tangling your hair. It's cute, but it would be cuter if you didn't feel him growing against your thigh.

"Does shampooing usually give you a boner?" you ask.

"Yeah, always," he replies sarcastically.

You giggle and close your eyes, enjoying the salon experience. When he's done, he moves you under the water and dips your head back to rinse your hair. You switch places with him after teaching him how to apply conditioner and grab the body wash again, but for him this time. He sighs as you massage his shoulders with the soap and you spread the rest down his torso. Your hands trace the curvature of his pecs and waist, taking a little too much time with each section just to feel him. When your touch begin to descend, he places his hands on your hips and pulls you forward. You sharply inhale as his dick prods your lower belly.

He leans in to kiss you, making you completely forget about your task and wrap your arms around his shoulders. His tongue finds yours and you feverishly return his advances, running your fingers through his soaked curls to smooth them out of his face. When his hand reaches down your back to cup your ass, you moan and lift your leg to wrap it around his hip. His other hand does the same and he carries you to push you against the shower wall. His erection nudges your center and you thrust forward, desperate for any friction. He teases his tip through your folds and against your clit.

"Be my girlfriend," Hamzah whispers, in between leaving open mouthed kisses on your décolletage.

You toss your head to the side, too overwhelmed to even respond. He continues his actions, feeding off your pleasure. You grip the back of his neck and bring his mouth back to yours.

"Be my boyfriend," you mumble against his lips.

You reach between your slick bodies and pump his shaft a few times, your foreheads pressed together as you watch his eyelids flutter from the sensation. Lining him up, you feel him gradually enter you. Both of you breathe heavily and as soon as you get used to his size, you buck your hips. Moans fall from your lips like water droplets, echoing against the bathroom tiles as he begins to thrust into you faster and faster. You clutch his shoulders and he buries his face in your neck, his groans vibrating against your wet skin.

Letting go of one of your legs, Hamzah kneads your tit, pinching your nipple then soothing it with the pad of his thumb. You whimper and stand on your tippy toes as he pounds into you, trying your best not to buckle from the feeling. His lips suck on the side of your throat, sure to leave marks in the places he lingers. You dig your heel into his lower back, wanting—no, needing to feel all of him.

When you start clenching around him, he glides his hand down your front and rubs circles on your clit. You gasp out breaths, digging your nails into his back.

"Feel good, baby?" he pants in your ear, his hips crashing into yours with each word. "Tell me."

"Yes, Hamzah, yes," you sob. "Harder, please!"

He complies, the wet slapping getting louder between you. Your eyes screw shut as white heat fills your veins from your head to your toes and all you can do is moan haphazardly. He's in a similar state, his voice breaking as curses fly from his lips. He fucks you through your climax, holding out as long as he can while he flicks his hand relentlessly. Once you’re completely spent, he pulls out with a groan and cums all over your stomach and thighs. You raise a trembling hand to stroke him until he finishes and his moans steadily fade out.

Your chests rise and fall as you attempt to catch your breaths. Hamzah lightly kisses up your neck, still holding you against the wall as the both of you recover. You bring your other leg back down to the ground and lean your weight on him.

Pushing him under the shower head, you watch the way his curls slowly spring back into place.

“Shampoo,” you breathe out.

Hamzah hands you the bottle and watches as you return the favor for him.

“Put your head down, please,” you request. “I’m too shaky.”

He laughs silently but does as you say. Your fingernails graze his scalp and he makes little noises of approval.

“Body wash me,” you say.

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah.” You bring his head up to make eye contact. “Boyfriend-ly duties.”

The two of you leave the shower after a couple more minutes of teasing and fondling. Hamzah wraps a towel around you and you plug the blow dryer in as he grabs one for himself. He’s about to leave the bathroom when you call him back.

“C’mon,” you say, beckoning him to the mirror. “You don’t style your hair?”

You grab a tiny dollop of conditioner and run it through his curls.

“I usually just let it air dry.”

“That’s fine, but you should always moisturize.”

“Every time?” he asks like it’s an unfathomable chore.

“From now on, yeah.” You scrunch some of the strands. “Can’t have my boyfriend looking crazy.”

“You’re really loving that title, huh?” he teases.

“Am I not supposed to?” you ask, washing your hands in the sink and looking at him through the steamy mirror. “If I knew how simple it was to get that title, I would’ve fucked you a lot sooner.”

Hamzah chokes on his spit.

a/n: i realize this whole chapter was basically abt sex and yk what i don’t even mind it. how we feeling abt there being one part left? what do yall think is gonna happen omggggg🙈 also should i do an epilogue or just stick with 7 being the ending? lmk!!!! love yall as per usual<333

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #slushy virus #hamzahsmut #hamzah fluff #hamzah imagines #hamzah x y/n #martin and hamzah #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah angst #slushynoobs

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writingnightmare · 23 hours ago

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please could you do dating headcanons for chuuya please. Like first date and early in the relationship and then when it is established. ❤️

A/n: of course I can! I love writing for Chuuya, and coming up with these was super fun. Thanks Anon!

─── ✶ ───

Characters: Main - Chuuya Nakahara

Content summary: Dating HCs for Chuuya in an early relationship, then progression to an established one.

Warnings: Slight language warning, Reader and Chuuya are implied to be highly competitive at boardgames.

Tags: [SFW], [Fluff]

Word count: 1.9k

Type: Headcannons

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Dating Headcannons - Chuuya Nakahara x Reader ⫘⫘

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Okay so, we all know Chuuya is an outwardly confident man, arrogant even.

In the beginning, he had to actively remember he didn’t have to be arrogant with you. You know he’s great, you’ve not questioned his talent or skill once, but it’s a tough habit to break.

He’s a busy man, and he warned you as such. So, he gets you to text him your work schedule at the beginning of every month, at first it feels weird, but you quickly get used to it. When he gets time to take you on a date, you don’t really get a warning in advance, not more than a couple hours at most.

The first time this happened, he only told you 10 minutes prior. And of course, he wanted to go to an incredibly fancy restaurant. By the time he got there, you were not ready. You opened the door without your shoes on, smelling of minty toothpaste, much to his surprise.

He quickly learned if he wanted to take you somewhere nice, you needed more than 10 minutes, especially since you had to dig your fancy clothes out of the back of your closet.

Chuuya goes easy on the wine. Last thing he wants to do, is get absolutely plastered on your first date.

The definition of a gentleman. Opens any doors, helps you get seated, whole nine yards. He is absolutely trying to impress you, and could listen to you talk about your life for hours.

However, if you ask him about himself? Well, he might get a little vague.

That aside, he walks you back to your door, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. Won’t go for a proper kiss, unless you initiate it first. It’s not that he’s shy, more uncertain of your boundaries yet, and doesn’t want to cross them.

After a few weeks once you both become more comfortable, will 100% show you off to Koyo if you come to the office.

Whilst she isn’t the end all, her impression of you is important to him, so he is absolutely looking for her approval of you.

Your doorbell will begin to ring at random times in the day, and every time you open it, it’s something different. It could be a package with a designer outfit he bought for you, or it could be a bouquet of flowers. You never get told in advance, but it’s always addressed to you, so you figure it’s fine, right?

His name is never on the packages, so the first couple of times it happened you were kinda freaked out. You definitely didn’t order these shoes that cost well over $1000, but it was your name, address and all, with no note. How did they know your shoe size?

A call to Chuuya quickly settles any concerns you may have of who sent it to your doorstep. He will cut off your rambling about the random packages with a light hearted laugh, amused by your reaction.

“Babe, I got those for you, who else would know your shoe size.”

No amounts of complaints about the price of said gifts will sway him. It is his money, and if he wants to spend it on you, he’ll do it regardless of what you say.

Will sending you music at random points of the day. Any song that he thinks you’d like, you’ll be having a link sent.

I hope you like wine, because he will invite you to come drink at his place.

You knew he liked to drink before you started dating, you’d seen the ginger man drunk before, but never quite like this.

He is very touchy, playing with your hair as he complains about his day, drawing patterns on the palm of your hand as you tell him about yours, the man just wants to touch you. You will end up cuddled up on his couch, pressing delicate kisses into your skin. He doesn’t mean anything sexual by it, he is just incredibly affectionate when he’s drunk.

Will tell you in detail about his conversations with his colleagues when he’s like this.

“-and then Akutagawa came around the corner, ‘n ya’ know what he asks? He asked if he did the wrong thing by killing the hostage- YES, THAT WASN’T THE PLAN! But I can’t just yell at him and beat him, cause then he’ll be reminded of that bastard Daz-“

“-but then Hirotsu told me I should jus’ lock you away, because society would ruin you. I don’ even know what he means by that….”

You never get enough context in these talks, but that’s fine with you. So long as he’s less stressed by the end of it all, you’re happy to listen. You would later find out that Hirotsu just has a particular distaste for society en masse, which you can appreciate. What you don’t, is him giving your boyfriend advice to lock you away.

A few months later you even get a call from Hirotsu himself, asking for help at a bar with the ginger himself. You were curious as to how he got your number in the first place, but realise you probably don’t want to know anyway. By the time you arrive at the bar, Chuuya was completely trashed, face smushed into the table as he left enraged voicemails to his old coworker. You tried to help him out of the booth, but the man pushed you off, indignantly proclaiming he had a girlfriend.

You were almost mad, almost, if it wasn’t for the fact of how he was saying it.

“I ‘ave a girlfriend, I don’t want anyone else touchin’ me!”

At least he was a loyal drunk, if not an idiot one too.

You eventually coaxed him home, but only by promising you weren’t trying to steal him from his girlfriend, and you in fact had a boyfriend yourself.

By the time you got him home, he collapsed onto the bed, mumbling of how he would still warn his girlfriend of you in the morning, which was fine by you.

He was genuinely surprised to see you still there, shocked even. He had vague memories of the night before, of stumbling home with you, but Chuuya never expects anyone to stay in his life for very long. Finding painkillers and water by his bedside, and you cooking in his kitchen, he was far too stunned to realise you were teasing him about the night before, asking if he needed to warn you of yourself yet. He wasn’t sure how to react to it all. Was this what falling hard into love felt like? Maybe Koyo wasn’t exaggerating.

From this point, the floodgates to Chuuya’s life suddenly opened. He no longer dances around tough questions of his past, and you find yourself bombarded by seemingly endless facts about the man. Did you know he sucks at tennis?

It’s not that he didn’t trust you or love you before. For Chuuya, there is a distinct difference between having love for someone and being in love with them. If he wasn’t sure you’d stay long, why tell you the small things.

Your dates become more intimate after this too. He comes over to your place to cook for you, you didn’t even ask him to do it, he just wanted to.

You end up having more dates at home, and he seems to relax with you like this. You still go out for fancy dinners and the like, but he only ever truly lets the stress of everything go when it’s just you and him at one of your places.

Once your relationship gets close to a year, he wants to live with you. Seeing you as he does now is difficult to say the least, and he would much rather be able to come home to you (even if you steal all the damn blankets).

Not against moving himself, but will insist the place have good security for both your sakes.

When you do move in together, you learn something else about your lover. Something no one could have prepared you for.

This son of a bitch steals your damn pillow in his sleep.

This continues to happen, and you reluctantly buy pillow after pillow, until you have amassed a collection of five pillows. You dread the day he manages to snatch all five in one night, but refuse to buy anymore until it does happen. (It does.)

Luckily, living together means you get to listen to his tired mumbling of affection for you. How you are his diamond, his cherished person who is impossibly precious to him. You genuinely mean the world to this man, he just sucks at saying it. You are his person, his home, his tiny bit of peace in his hectic life. It’s an intimate moment, and one you often find solace in when he again takes your pillows multiple times in his sleep. (You know he’s asleep, so how he manages to solely target your pillow is a mystery to you to this very day. You would be mad, if he didn’t apologise so much every morning.)

“You’re perfect, you know that? I don’ want my life any other way…”

He realises you don’t actually need or want him to spend a ton of money on buying gifts for you. You actually get happier when he brings home a bouquet of your favourite flowers, instead of a diamond necklace.

Now every three days he goes to a local florist on his way home, and brings home a new bunch. It gets to the point that if there isn’t flowers in a tall vase, you both feel as though something in the house in wrong.

You have late boardgames nights, but it quickly becomes apparent that you are both far too competitive for it to ever work. On the last night you played monopoly (referred to by Chuuya as the monopo-geddon incident), your neighbours called the police to your house. Turns out your heated “disagreement”, on who owed who rent money, sounded like quite the violent affair to those without context.

Monopoly and boardgames are thereafter forbidden from the household.

You both try baking together instead, and it turns out this man is great at it. He gives the excuse that he’s just talented, little do you know he once lost a bet to Dazai related to baking, and learnt it out of spite. He will never admit this.

Will want you to come to every work event. If he has to sit through them, he at least would like the comfort of your presence.

And it’s an excuse to show you off to his subordinates. When they see their boss, the way he kisses the top of your hand, arm draped around your waist, they almost couldn’t believe it. They of course knew he had a partner, one who seemed to lessen his wrath when she called him, but they’d never seen the man quite so happy. They first thought you had drugged the man, from the bright spark in his eyes when he watched you adoringly, the way his cocky grin turned into a genuine smile, how arrogantly he would introduce you as his partner, to how delicately he touched you as if you might break, it all seemed odd. They quickly realised this wasn’t the case, when he was still more than willing to yell and discipline them regardless of your presence. The man is simply smitten.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x y/n

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maleyanderecafe · 1 day ago

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Hi!! Hope you're having a wonderful day/night!!

I was going through your recommendation list and since I didn't see it, I'd like to recommend Reanimated heart vn to you!! It's my number one most beloved VN and it's extremely well written!! It's also partially voice acted and has a really cool character journal and inventory system!! And one of the LI Vincenzo is also a yandere!!

I feel like you may like it!!

Phew you were right this is a really well made game. It took me a bit to play it because despite it only really going over the prologue/first chapter (or from what I heard, half of it) there's a ton of content within it (that and while I was playing it, there was an update, so there's that as well.) Since there's not a guide currently and I'm kind of useless without a guide, I did my best to see as much of the content as possible. Vincenzo definitely shows signs of being a yandere (along with Black) though since this is just a prologue, not too much has gone on yet. This game has pretty extensive worldbuilding as well and can get pretty gory at times, thus the r18 rating. You can find more information @doubledeadstudio.

This game is pretty lengthy and you can actually pursue three love interests (Crux, Black and Vincenzo). Since Vincenzo is the main topic of this ask, I'll be focusing my time on him, though I'll still mention things from Black's route as well. The blog also mentions that Crux might be one as well, though at least currently in the game I don't really see too many signs of it, but I can theorize near the end.

The story starts out with Moss/Player (default name, though Moss sounds better so I'm going to just use Moss) trying to escape as the world devolves into violence and chaos, riots everywhere. While leaving, they are hit by a car, but instead of actually dying, they instead get isekaied to another world with a green sky and a giant tree in the center (like yggsdril) before being jumpscared by a guy with a lot of teeth looming over them. They are eventually caught by two guys after attempting to run away, Black, the one who jumpscared Moss and is now a zombie and Crux, the mage who brought him there. Crux explains whats going on to a confused Moss and Black. Basically, Crux and Black were friends in the original world. Black died from trying to save a girl from getting shot and the Crux from the original world had set up a spell in advanced to get him revived. However, Moss ended up interfering by accident, leading to the two of them being transferred to this world with no way out and for Black to essentially become a zombie. Crux as a mage is able to be aware of his other selves in other worlds, which is why he knows about all of this, though now that they're both stuck here, they have to find places to live. Crux sets up Black in a recently deceased person's house and Moss with a friend named Greta, whose mother had just recently died. Upon going to Greta's place, we learn a little big more about the world that they have transported to: magic is something that everyone has (which is given by the giant tree), there are magical creatures here, people who come here from other worlds are called outsiders and that apparently Moss does have some sort of powers (this is more implied though). We also learn about Greta herself, as she sells weed to pay for rent (which later can become Moss's part time job), she and her mother had a close relationship (thus the reason that she wanted someone to be in the house, as it was too lonely to bare without her) and that she's generally fairly somber in nature, though takes care of Moss fairly well by providing meals and other things. After setting up, Moss heads to sleep.

The next day, Black asks to meet up with Moss downtown and upon meeting up with him, we learn that Black seems to not really eat normal food anymore nor really sleep or have a heartbeat, though he seems to have a great craving for humans (as a zombie would) and decides that eating the guy who ran Moss over is a good idea. The two end up tracking the guy into an abandoned factory. However, upon getting there we find that someone else has already gotten to him first, and quite literally, as someone is already killing and ripping this man apart into flesh and other pieces. We are met by Vincenzo, the killer and Black ends up eating the remains of the person. After going back and sleeping, the next day Crux basically gets Moss to get a job and start pulling their weight by running deliveries for Greta. Crux ends up driving them to many places to run their deliveries and chatting about what happened the day before. With this we learn a couple of things about Vincenzo: that he's a well known serial killer that has a lot of copycats, that even when killed he is able to somehow revive and continue killing people and that there's a lot of people who fangirl/find him hot. After this you can choose the route that you'll be going for.

So we'll be going for Vincenzo's route first. Moss gets curious about the fact that Vincenzo can regenerate and thus goes back to the abandoned factory to check it out. However, before even getting there and reaching downtown, they are caught by Vincenzo and brought to the factory after passing out. Upon waking up, Moss is bound to a chair with Vincenzo lying his head on their lap. He seems to have taken an interest in Moss seeing that they seem to have basically materialized out of nowhere and pretty much claims them as his. He recounts how similar the two were, that he too was captured by a military general and bound into the dark for years, eventually falling in love and killing him. After questioning him and his intentions with Black (he best responds to obedient answers and betraying Black, it seems) and eventually Moss is forced to be his toy (or killed otherwise) through a ring created by magic that binds the two together.

After heading out and hanging out with Greta more (or going to your bedroom), you are brought by Crux the next day to join a volunteer/rebellion group where we meet Asha, a person we actually delivered to previously. Hana, the leader of the organization introduces everyone to the Evergreen Volunteer Organization where they house people who are homeless, help out in soup kitchen and pick litter off the streets. Crux and Black immediately start asking a bunch of questions including pointing out the lack of members in the group, and why they aren't doing more to actually oppose the government wrongdoings (mostly because people are terrified of Vincenzo which has killed off a lot of their members), which really makes Hana think until a lady named Brandi comes out to basically kick Hana while she's down even more before Hana ultimately kicks her out. After watching Crux and Black bicker, Moss goes to comfort Hana, though Hana agrees that the questioning did help her realize that she has backpedaled in what their organization originally stood for and how far they've fallen and how she's changed since first starting the organization. Upon going back, Moss can either pass out or talk to Vincenzo about what they had done for the day. We can then go and talk with the various characters and run deliveries for Greta. Talking to Vincenzo, we can learn about his mutations and his living quarters (the mutation seems to be caused by a "deal" made with a powerful abomination so that he can have powers but also so the abomination can sort of puppet his body around.

Upon returning back, Greta asks Moss to help her get rid of a Mutie problem, basically a type of pest that is common there and is currently wrecking havoc on her lawn. She asks moss to go to the market to get something that can get rid of the mutie, and sends Moss on their way after giving them some money. After going through a strange ritual to get there, Moss encounters one of the shopkeepers, Missy and buys some things, most importantly a comic book about muties. Upon leaving, Moss runs into Crux who seems to have also wanted the comic as well. Seeing as the information is accurate, Crux proposes a trade where he'll get rid of the mutie in exchange for the comic book. Upon returning to Greta's house, we learn that muties are sort of spirits that have some sort of unfinished business, and after Crux pulls out some magical garments to allow the mutie to pass on, Moss gives him the comic book. Afterwards, Vincenzo tells Moss to meet him downtown (and ignoring this leads to something weird crawling inside of them at night). Upon meeting up with Vincenzo for this date, bringing moss to a table with a naked women tied up and basically tells Moss that they can do anything with her. You can then decide to try to let her go, rape her or kill her (Vincenzo responds best to killing her in a vicious way, which is pretty much what I did immediately because of course I did). Whether you are able to save this lady, kill her or otherwise defile her, the date eventually ends. The next day, Moss returns to the volunteer organization after seeing an email pretty much going full attack and petitioning a new law that had just came out by getting signatures. As a result, Black and Moss go out to get signatures from various places eventually finding two bodies at a construction site. After this, Moss gets a choice of where to work at, either at the same bar as Black, as a magical apprentice with Crux or continuing delivering for Grete.

After that you have freetime to visit people and buy things. We learn from Vincenzo that the two bodies are in fact not his killings but rather killings from a copycat killer, that he dated Crux before and that he has the ability to leave this world if he wants to. The next day you are presented with the opportunity to go to the protesting that Hana has organized or to skip it and end up helping Black with something. Either way, the next day, Moss heads downtown after Vincenzo summons them again, this time however, appearing as a woman. And here you can tell her your preferences for either form. Vincenzo remarks that Black has been arrested (whether you know that or not is based on the previous choice) and that Vincenzo wants to get revenge on the person who tried to impersonate her killings. After tracking down this Irving Dunham, Vincenzo gets you to become a distraction to get him out and so they can kidnap him. Vincenzo kidnapped him basically to see if there was any potential in him, though after he admits to killing his family, he ends up dying/bleeding by her hands. In the end, Vincenzo gives basically an upgraded ring to help Moss in case something happens to them.

Black's route mostly goes around the sudden transformation of being a zombie and his sense of morality as well as Moss visiting him while he's getting a tattoo. I won't go as detailed into it since other than him being overprotective over Moss (mostly because he feels guilty that he was the reason that Moss came here in the first place), we don't see to much of the yandere side of him (and the ask is more on Vincenzo rather than Black, I just thought I'd also mention him since at least stated on the tumblr page, he might also qualify as a yandere).

So yeah, anyways, this game is really well made. With just the game system alone there's an inventory and journal section and I love the way the UI is done (since I'm a sucker for cool UI in games) as the entire UI system is more reminiscent of a scrapbook. The world itself is also very cool too, with it's green skies and magic, definitely portrays a certain mood along with its themes of injustice, society, punk/rebel type of culture and others. Seriously, this world is genuinely very interesting and a lot of thought and effort was put into it. The characters too are all pretty fun to interact with, Crux is sly at times but still pretty caring, Black is more direct but has a soft side, Vincenzo has a genuine creepy feeling to him to contrast with his more charming personality, Asha has a very chill vibe, while Greta is more somber (for some reason she kind of reminds me of Elliot Reed) and then my favorite girl Hana is not only cute but commanding. I think its really nice that despite the fact that we're introduced to so many characters that they are all unique in a way that I can remember. There's a ton of concepts that get explored as well, from morality to mortality, to religion, and societal issues. It is very wild to me that this game isn't more popular than it is currently.

Considering this is just the prologue/first chapter, we don't really know the extent to how Vincenzo will evolve as a character and as a yandere. We see already that he had tendencies given his previous partners and the guard that imprisoned him, killing him out of love and we see that he has a sense of possessiveness to him, especially when Moss is claimed by him. He seems to enjoy violence over everything considering that he is a serial killer and likes obedience overall, as well as worry when Moss isn't around which is why he equips them with the ring near the end. As a yandere, I can see him more as a violent type and one that when when he grows an attachment is the type to either kill them (out of an overwhelming love, as we see with the guard) or to possibly become his partner in crime (for lack of a better word). I do see him having an obsession with the player given that at least in this route, Moss is thrown into more dire situations where they can be violent or otherwise evil and we can kind of see that corruption already taking place as the game goes on, even in just the prologue. Technically speaking I guess it wouldn't be so much as a strictly male yandere, but rather a genderfluid one since Vincenzo can be a girl, but I mean, you do in the end get to choose so given the option I'll just consider it a "male" yandere. But yeah, I see Vincenzo as a combination of a lot of types, more manipulative to a certain degree, violent for sure, unpredictable and always testing the player. Having this kind of serial killer yandere that can't be killed as well as having to experience the gore of such things in the game is pretty terrifying. Aside from that he also kidnaps and stalks people (including the player).

Black on the other hand is more overprotective if anything and we can already see that in the game so far. In a lot of places, he's worried about the player and will often defend them in many places, case in point: meeting Vincenzo for the first time. Much of his route is his struggles with his new zombie form, having not only having to eat humans to sustain himself but also to prevent himself from attacking Moss, even asking them to chain him up in the room. He always seems a bit ashamed in a sense to eat humans in front of the player and is always wanting to help. In a sense, Black is very similar to a guard dog, though at the moment it seems mostly out of guilt for dragging Moss into the world rather than having any romantic feelings for them. I think if there are any endings in the future that are yanderelike, it would probably be due to an overprotective action such as killing one of Moss's friends that might be a danger to them.

Crux is a little harder to decipher, but we do see more of his tender side in his route. While he is sly and manipulative, often stalking, hacking and reading through other people (such as Black's) history, we also see that he is very protective over his family. Crux is the type of guy who seems very does whatever he wants and goes with the flow, though he's clearly harboring another secret given that he seems to recognize Moss, but won't admit to it. Hard to say though since while Crux does take an interest in Moss during his route and we do have the option to kiss him, I just don't know enough right now to know if he's a yandere. Kind of an interesting thing to see in the future though!

Overall, really well made game/demo. I really like the atmosphere and the level of polish this game has and the characters are all fantastic. It'll be cool to see how the love interest in this story develop and hopefully show more of their yandere side as it goes.

#Reanimated Heart #asks #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendation

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