#I didn't want him to become more human i think it's cool that he couldn't really GET IT

[rapidhighway]

ok but literally the worst thing spn did imo is the angels falling at the end of s8. I hated it so much. I hated it. I watched up to season TWELVE ONLY because I was hoping they would fix it but they didn't because the writers didn't even have a good idea for getting out of that situation so they just basically left it alone. It was horrible. Castiel you didn't deserve all of that, they used you so they could have a dramatic season finale and nothing else

[janiehellion]

Revved Up

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Learning to ride a motorcycle should’ve been simple. After all, you knew your way around bikes better than anyone in Alexandria—except Daryl Dixon. But one crash and one pissed-off redneck later, and you're stuck with him giving you a hands-on crash course in focus and control.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / MINOR INJURIES / VAGINAL FINGERING / CUNNILINGUS / SEMI-PUBLIC / ROUGH SEX / PAIN PLAY / MARKING

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first oneshot of 2025—and my longest yet! Sorry, not sorry, for the length; Daryl Dixon refused to stop until the lesson was fully drilled in. Hope it's worth the ride.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Out of everyone from the new group in Alexandria, he was the one who made the least effort to fit in. He was quiet and always looked ready to leave, like this wasn't a place to call home. He preferred to keep his distance, doing his own thing around the community, and that made him even more interesting to you.

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

The first time you caught him working on the motorcycle and the parts he got from Aaron, in Aaron's and Eric's garage, something caught your attention. It wasn't just the way he moved, though the way his hands worked on the machine was something you couldn't ignore. No, it was more than that, and it pulled you in.

And for you?

The sound of metal and the smell of oil were all too familiar. You'd grown up around motorcycles and spent hours watching your old man work on his Harley Davidson most of the time, until you decided to become a mechanic after school, especially for motorcycles. That knowledge was something you didn't share with many others in Alexandria, but when you saw Daryl putting that motorcycle together piece by piece, you figured it might be a good way to start a conversation, if nothing else.

Sure, he kept to himself mostly, spending more time with his crossbow than with humans. But it made him stand out in a place where most people were getting used to living 'normally' again. And you didn't want anything normal. You wanted real.

That's what led you to the garage.

Daryl, of course, was bent over the motorcycle he'd been working on for some time now.

As you walked closer, you pretended to inspect his work. "What is this, a '92 Honda? Nice setup. Yamaha front end, though? Bit of a Frankenstein's monster, huh?"

That got his attention. "The hell ya know 'bout bikes?"

You shrugged, smirking at him. "What, do you think just 'cause I live in Alexandria, I can't tell a carburetor from a walker? Oh, please."

He hadn't spoken to you much since he arrived, but then again, Daryl didn't talk to anyone much. But you? You barely ever got a grunt in your direction since he'd been here.

"Looks like it's finally coming together," you started, trying to sound bored. It was a shitty way to break the ice, but small talk wasn't your thing after all.

Daryl didn't even look up. Grease covered his hands, and his current expression made him look like he'd rather punch you than say hello.

"Yeah, maybe if ya'd stop annoyin' my ass," he murmured, tightening a bolt.

"I'm only annoying the bike," you snorted. "And I'm making sure it doesn't fall apart the second you ride it out of the community."

That earned you a glare. A quick one. And you held his stare for that moment, refusing to look away.

"So yer always this annoyin'?" He shot back, wiping his hands on a rag and finally standing up to his full height.

"You tell me. So what is it? This… special kind of build?" You asked, gesturing to the motorcycle. You had to admit, it did look quite nice.

His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be a little surprised about your curiosity. "Do ya really know bikes?"

You shrugged, playing it cool. "Enough to know that this isn't a normal setup, but that's just personal taste, you know?"

"It'll work."

"Sure, until it doesn't," you continued with a smirk. "But hey, it's your funeral. Or someone else's if that thing gives out mid-run."

He grunted, clearly not in the mood to admit you might have a point.

"Still, not bad for what you had to work with. Must've been a pain in the ass to track down some of the other parts," you moved closer, getting a better look at the setup. "But I heard Aaron's been helping you out. He's good with scavenging stuff. Though, I bet he didn't know half of what you needed."

That got a grunt of agreement from Daryl. "He ain't bad. Jus' don't need anyone watchin' when I'm workin'."

"Noted." You raised your hands, but you didn't back off. Instead, you crouched next to the machine, inspecting the details up close. You could feel Daryl's eyes on you, probably wondering what the hell you were doing.

After a moment of silence, you looked up at him again. "You ever really gonna take this thing out, or are you just building it for the hell of it?"

Daryl looked over to the garage door as if he was thinking whether or not to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Gonna use it. Aaron wants me on the road, recruitin' and all. Need somethin' fast."

"Yeah? And what if you end up with a flat tire out there? Wait, that might not even be a problem, since it kind of looks like you're building yourself a time machine there," you answered, standing up. "But you're gonna need more than just duct tape and spit to get this thing running."

Daryl's eyes narrowed again. "Told ya I know what I'm doin'," he snapped, his hand tightening around the wrench like he was itching to throw it at you.

But you weren't about to be ignored that easily. "You've really got some interesting mismatched parts here. Yamaha forks on a Honda… Look, I'm just saying that you might wanna check the suspension before you ride outta here. Unless you're aiming to get launched off it."

"Gonna manage."

You snorted. "Sure, you will. But hey, if you ever feel like teaching someone else how to ride, I wouldn't mind learning. I mean, someone's gotta be around to save your ass when that thing tries to kill you."

Daryl shot you a look, his jaw clenching slightly, but this time, he just stared at you like you were the most confusing person he'd ever seen.

"Ya wanna learn how to ride?" His voice sounded annoyed, like the idea was somehow offensive to him, but there was also some slight disbelief to be heard as if he wasn't sure why you'd ask him of all people. "Ain't got time for that. Got 'nough problems without babysittin'."

"Come on," you pressed further. "What's the harm? Or is the asshole routine just for me? Besides, if you ever crash, I promise I'll write you some kinda eulogy. Something about how you died doing what you loved—which is looking perpetually pissed off."

You could've sworn you saw the slightest smirk, but Daryl quickly busied himself with the motorcycle, like he hadn't shown you might really have a point with your tips.

Keeping your voice casual, you stepped back. "Let me know if you change your mind," you continued, brushing off your knees. "Might be fun."

With that, you gave him one last smirk and turned around, leaving him to think about whatever he thought of you.

You spent the next couple of days trying not to think about Daryl Dixon, which was about as easy as trying not to notice a walker biting your arm. But despite your best efforts to act like it was no big deal, the thought of riding that motorcycle—and more specifically, him teaching you—kept making its way into your head.

Daryl didn't say anything about your offer for those few days, too. Hell, he didn't say much of anything, really. He'd pass by you in Alexandria, his crossbow by his side, always looking like someone just spit in his drink. But you had gotten used to the silent treatment by now, so you didn't let it get to you... much.

Indeed, it didn't take long to figure out that convincing Daryl Dixon to teach you how to ride a motorcycle was like trying to herd cats—but grumpy, feral ones… with knives.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself near the garage again, and you hadn't planned on seeing him, but let's face it, you were intrigued. And there he was—still working on the motorcycle and still looking like it personally insulted him.

However, the thing looked all patched together with scavenged pieces and maybe a little bit of wishful thinking. It had a certain look to it, like it wanted to run off into the wild and never come back.

Daryl didn't even move. He didn't look your way. He just kept wrenching something near the seat before he glared at you like you'd asked him to solve a math problem.

"Thought I'd come by and bless you with my knowledge once more," you announced, smirking as you leaned against the workbench.

Daryl only rolled his eyes—actually rolled them—like he couldn't believe he had to put up with you again. "Ain't nobody asked for that."

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for that bike to look like it's held together with a plea and a prayer, but here we are," you shot back, leaning forward slightly. "'Livin' on a Prayer,' in fact."

He grunted, shoving the wrench into the toolbox with force. "The hell do ya know 'bout motorcycles, anyway?"

"I do know motorcycles! I told you, didn't I? And that thing," you pointed to the machine, "is one bad pothole away from turning into scrap metal."

Daryl scoffed, clearly not a fan of having his work criticized, especially by someone who, in his eyes, hadn't earned the right to say something about it. "It'll hold. 'S a good bike."

"Sure, sure," you said, grinning at him. "But if you're so confident, why don't you accept my offer? Teach me how to ride. Let's see if this thing here can handle it."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was thinking about his options. You could practically see the gears running in his head—whether to shut you down and tell you to piss off or give in just to prove you wrong.

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

"Dead serious," you said, holding his stare. "What? Are you afraid?"

His nostrils flared in the way they did when he seemed to be two seconds from snapping at you, but instead, he just turned back to his work. "Ya wanna learn? Fine. But don't come cryin' to me when ya hurt yer ass."

"Oh, don't worry, Dixon. If I hurt my ass, I'll make sure you hurt yours, too," you said, biting back a laugh as you straightened up. "But I swear, this thing's gonna be your mid-life crisis. What's next, leather pants and chaps?"

He showed you one of those stares again—half-annoyed, half-confused—like he wasn't sure if he should bother responding or pretend you didn't exist.

"Ya done?"

"Done? I'm here to save you from yourself, Daryl. You keep this up, and in a week, you're gonna be having a mullet and wearing a crop top."

He stared at you like you'd grown an extra head. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mid-life crisis, Daryl. First, it's the bike. Then, it's questionable fashion choices. Next thing you know, you're coming back from a run with a Corvette and crying over Bon Jovi ballads. I'm just here to make sure it won't happen."

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

You smirked. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say. Just remember, I offered to help. I can't wait to see you when you're rocking those chaps and a bandana."

"So, ya still wanna learn to ride or not?" His voice sounded definitely pissed off.

You raised your eyebrows, as if in shock. "Oh my, was that an offer in return? From you? I'm touched, really. Let me just—" You pretended to wipe a tear away from your eye and sob. "This moment's very special to me."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his voice gave way that he almost sounded amused.

"I'm just saying, this is progress," you said. "Next thing I know, we'll be exchanging friendship bracelets."

Daryl didn't respond right away, but you thought you had seen enjoyment, maybe? Or irritation. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, he was back on his feet now, pulling the motorcycle upright and kicking the stand back. Soon enough, the familiar sound of the engine made its way through the garage, and damn if it didn't make your pulse race just a little.

"Get on."

His sudden words made you blink at him in surprise. "Wait, like… right now? Where's the foreplay, Dixon? At least buy me a drink first."

"Nah, when I'm dead. Yeah, right now," he snapped, unable to believe you were even asking.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, swinging your leg over the motorcycle with as much confidence as you could have at that moment. The seat seemed normal, but it still felt bigger than you expected.

Daryl stepped beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you. "Ya know how to start?"

"Of course I do," you said, reaching for the handlebars.

You were halfway through fumbling with the throttle at first when Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "That ain't how ya do it," he growled as he leaned in. "First lesson: This here's the throttle—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a throttle is," you interrupted, waving him off. "I'm not a complete idiot. I could turn this thing into scrap and piece it back together if you wanted me to, so..."

His eyes narrowed. "Then maybe shut up and listen."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You couldn't help it—pissing him off was just too easy.

"Clutch on the left, throttle on the right," he continued, his fingers tapping the handlebars. "Brake's here. Don't yank it like an idiot." He then gave the machine a once-over. "Ya pull the clutch, twist the throttle slowly. Too much, and yer gonna stall it."

"Okay, understood. Show me."

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh but soon moved behind you, reaching around to grip the handlebars. His strong chest pressed against your back, and you immediately forgot how to breathe.

"Ya gotta ease into it," he instructed while his fingers guided yours on the throttle.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, ease into it," you mumbled, trying to sound unimpressed. "And what happens if I don't ease into it? The whole thing explodes?"

"Nah. Ya gonna wipe out an' eat dirt," he shot back, his lips showing a bit of a smirk. "But maybe ya'll learn faster that way."

"Yeah, well, I've eaten worse," you answered, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Besides, I doubt you've ever taught anyone how to ride before. What if you're just a terrible teacher?"

He huffed against your neck. "Ain't teachin' ya much. Now, idle it forward."

You followed his instructions, twisting the throttle just enough to get the engine purring beneath you. The vibration went through your legs, and despite yourself, you had to admit it felt very, very good.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, trying to sound bored even though the adrenaline was starting to kick in.

"Now ya balance," Daryl said, his voice neutral like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to fall over." You could feel his eyes on you, judging every movement you made. "Quit messin' 'round. Friction Zone is how ya idle forward."

You shot him a look but did as he said, trying not to stall the motorcycle. For a second, you wobbled, and you swore you heard Daryl whisper something—probably betting on how soon you'd crash.

But you didn't. You steadied yourself. It was a weird feeling—kind of thrilling, kind of terrifying.

"Well, look at that," you said, showing him a grin. "Didn't fall over. Guess you're not the worst teacher after all."

"Jus' keep 'em hands on the bars," he instructed, his voice rather patient—well, as patient as Daryl ever got.

You did as he said, gripping the handlebars harder, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His smell wasn't exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was kind of… intoxicating.

Not that you'd ever admit that to him out loud.

"Fine, so what's next? Do I just rev it up and hope for the best?"

Daryl snorted, clearly unimpressed with you being unable to wait. "Ya listen, or yer gonna end up on yer ass."

"You know, Daryl, I don't usually take threats during lessons, but I'll make an exception for you."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, and you thought he might just leave you there. But he didn't. "Don't jerk the damn throttle, woman, or yer gonna take off too fast."

"Throttle, got it. Don't jerk it off. Guess I'll save that one for later." You wiggled your eyebrows, even though he couldn't see it.

Daryl stiffened, grumbling something you didn't quite catch, though it definitely wasn't a compliment.

"C'mon now, twist it—slowly," he ordered.

You followed his lead, the motorcycle easing forward just a bit as you worked the throttle.

"There ya go," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit less harsh now that you weren't about to play around. "Gotta ease into it."

"Wow, who knew you could be so supportive?" You teased. "Almost makes me think you care."

He grunted. "Jus' don't wanna pick yer ass up off the ground."

"Got it, got it. Now, let's see if I can actually ride this thing without killing myself."

Daryl's hand moved to the clutch, his fingers touching yours as he guided you through the motions. You weren't sure if it was the machine or him, but your heart was beating much faster than usual. Maybe it was both. Either way, you were in for one hell of a ride.

His hand was warm, calloused, and—despite everything—comforting as he guided you out of the garage.

"Okay, slow down a bit, but not too much," he instructed, his voice almost a growl. The way he said it made you shiver, but you refused to let it show. You could be cool about this, right?

"Or I could just go full throttle and see how far I can fly through the streets of Alexandria," you laughed back.

"Real funny," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't fuck up. Y'ain't flyin' nowhere. Ya gotta keep it steady."

"Right, no jerking off," you said, moving your head to the side just enough to glance at him. "That's usually my motto, you know, but I can make an exception for you regarding that as well."

"Focus. Don't push it," he warned. "Ya gotta keep yer focus on the bike, not me."

"Really? I thought you were my main distraction." You leaned back a little. "Sure, I'll focus. But I'm also pretty good at multitasking." As you worked the throttle again, you felt a rush of adrenaline. "So, what happens if I actually do fall? You gonna come to my rescue?"

Daryl didn't answer immediately. Instead, he loosened his grip on the handlebars, his body tense next to you. "Ya get back up. Everyone falls. 'S what ya do afterward that matters."

"Profound," you smirked. "You should start writing poetry! 'When life knocks you down, just get back on your bike.' Classic wisdom."

"Shut up and drive."

The motorcycle moved as you used the throttle too hard, and you fought to regain control, laughing nervously. "Shit! Maybe I should have listened to that part about not jerking it!"

He sighed, not bothering to hide his amusement this time. "Ya keep talkin', and ya might jus' convince me to kick ya off myself."

"Promises, promises," you smirked, adrenaline rushing through you, making everything feel a bit more exciting.

He grumbled something again—probably another insult—but he didn't try to stop you. Your movements weren't exactly smooth, but it was a start.

"You're a terrible teacher, by the way," you soon said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good," Daryl answered. "Means ya won't ask me to do this shit again."

You were just getting into the rhythm, feeling the motorcycle beneath you and getting the hang of it, when you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer behind you.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Aaron's voice destroyed the moment, and you felt Daryl tense near you.

"Shit," he groaned, practically gritting his teeth. You tried to process what was happening as you got off the seat, the way Daryl's body stiffened and the smirk faded from your lips.

"Oh, nothing, just a little driving lesson," you announced, trying to keep going despite the sudden stop. "Motto: 'Try Not to Die, but If You Do, It Ain't My Problem.'"

Aaron laughed, walking closer to you both. "So, it's finally finished?" He looked at the machine, inspecting the mix of parts that somehow came together into something that resembled a proper motorcycle.

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Daryl, who was already stepping away from him and you.

"That's great. Looks like you're making some great progress," Aaron continued, stepping closer.

"Ain't needin' ya to worry 'bout that," Daryl grumbled, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable. "Lesson's over."

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

"Don't push it," he snapped, shooting you a look that said he was done. "Ya wanna learn, ya have to find someone else."

You blinked, stunned as he walked away with the motorcycle by his side. "Daryl, stop!"

"Forget 'bout it," he called back, almost like his voice belonged to a different person. "Y'ain't ready."

Your frustration boiled over, and you turned to Aaron, arms crossed. "Thanks for ruining my lesson, by the way. Just what I needed today—more interruptions."

Aaron frowned, glancing between you and Daryl again as he watched him walk away. "What did you expect? He's still new here. Trying to keep his distance from the rest of us."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be an asshole about it," you snapped. "I was getting somewhere!"

"You have to understand that the whole group has been through a lot. Daryl's not always going to be open with people," he explained, but it didn't help your mood.

"I get that, but I was just trying to learn something! Guess it's my fault for thinking he could actually teach me without being a complete asshole about it."

"Maybe give it some time?" Aaron suggested, his voice softer now, sounding more sympathetic. "He'll come around."

"Maybe," you sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "But just when I thought I could finally get him to smile and to talk, you pull this."

Aaron's expression was by now somewhere between concern and curiosity as you huffed, glaring at Daryl walking away.

"Really, Aaron…" You continued, throwing your hands in the air. "You couldn't have waited five goddamn minutes longer to come and ruin my day? You see me finally making some progress, and you think, 'Oh, hey! The perfect time to interrupt!'"

Aaron raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't mean to ruin anything. I didn't know you two were having... whatever that was."

"Whatever that was?" You repeated, your voice rising. "It was a goddamn driving lesson! Or, at least, it was supposed to be before you came along with your good intentions and your bad timing!"

Aaron frowned, the tone in his voice still kind, but he wasn't backing down. "Look, I was just checking in because I heard the sound of the engine. I thought Daryl wanted to head out, and I only wanted to see if he's done with his work on the bike. I didn't realize you were both so busy."

"Busy?" You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'm about to get Daryl Dixon to do something other than grunt or skin dead animals on the porch, I'll write you a goddamn note so you don't fuck it up. Now he's all pissed off and stomping away with my only chance at learning how to ride a damn bike and not kill myself."

"I doubt he's mad at you," Aaron responded. "Daryl's complicated. Like the rest of the group. They're still very new here. And you were the same when I found you and brought you here. But you're probably closer to getting through to him than anyone else."

You snorted. "Yeah, sure. 'Cause nothing says 'bonding' and 'getting to know each other' like storming off with his damn Franken-bike in a hurry. Really fucking touching."

Aaron smiled, squeezing your shoulder. "Just think about it."

You exhaled loudly, putting your hands on your hips. "Sounds like it's from a fortune cookie. Thanks for nothing."

With that, Aaron simply walked off, leaving you alone.

Soon, some days had passed since your lesson with Daryl. Days that quickly turned annoying when you realized he was avoiding you like you were the last slice of cold pizza at a party.

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

And it didn't help that every time you tried to casually walk into the garage or catch him before he went on a supply run, he was either nowhere to be found or suddenly too busy to talk. You even half-expected to see a 'Do Not Disturb' sign near the bike.

It wasn't like you were stalking him—okay, maybe a little—but it was hard to stop thinking about him.

"Should I ask for him? Should I knock on the garage door? Maybe he's just sleeping? Or dead?" You laughed at the last thought. With Daryl, it wasn't a real possibility.

Finally, you sighed and decided to call it a day. "Alright, Daryl Dixon, you win," you said to yourself, kicking the dirt as you turned to leave.

But just as you made it halfway down the street, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by a clink of metal that made your heart race. You turned, and there he was—finally. Daryl Dixon, leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed, his eyes hidden behind his hair, and with a cigarette in one hand.

Oh no, you're not getting away this time.

"Been hiding from me, huh?" You asked as soon as you reached him. "Gonna run off again? Or maybe you've just been too busy?" You faked a yawn, your eyes narrowing. "Or hiding from the bike lesson, maybe?"

Daryl simply scoffed, the only sign of life you got out of him as you stood a few inches from him. His eyes looked down, clearly not thrilled to see you standing there, but you didn't give a damn.

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to inspect him like he was the most boring human in Alexandria. "Hey… You did promise, you know? I didn't just imagine that part now, did I?"

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing wider. "Oh? Sure feels like it. Guess you finally realized you're not as good of a teacher as you think."

Daryl sighed, sounding not only frustrated but... pissed off? Maybe both?

"Don't need to explain shit to ya," he grumbled in return.

You grinned, shrugging. "Well, if you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not being an asshole, I guess I'll just go back to trying to learn from someone else." You turned to leave, but not without looking back over your shoulder again. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to teach me again."

That got him. He pushed himself off the garage, taking a few steps closer.

"You promised, Daryl. Or is that just another thing you like to say and not follow through with? You were gonna teach me. Not that I care; I'm sure I'll learn from someone else... unless you finally stop being an ass," you taunted, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Daryl's hand shot out before you could get too far, catching your arm in a grip that could've cracked a tree in half if he wanted it to. He was definitely pissed.

With a growl, he yanked you back toward him. "Fine. I'll teach ya. But not here. Not in Alexandria." He released your arm. "Meet me by the gates. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl walked back inside, leaving you standing there with a grin.

The next morning, you woke up early, a little earlier than you'd planned, but that was the least of your problems. There was a knot in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, not even with a few stretches or by putting on your clothes.

This wasn't just another run. It wasn't just another 'do this or die trying' kinda deal. No, this was different. And for some reason, you were extremely nervous. What was he gonna do? What was he thinking?

You threw on your jacket, tied your boots like they were the last thing you'd ever do, and then... you hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with you?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself out the door and towards the gates of Alexandria. When you finally made it, you saw him. There he was—Daryl Dixon, standing there like he was waiting for the bus, except minus the whole 'bus' part. The motorcycle was leaned up against the walls, and he was staring straight ahead as if you were the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Well, damn. You did show up. Thought maybe you'd hide behind that attitude of yours for another day," you said, taking your time to walk up to him, not quite giving a damn whether he was ready for you or not.

But Daryl didn't even acknowledge you. He just flicked his cigarette away and gave you a look that could probably kill.

He then grunted, clearly not amused. "Ain't here to talk."

You looked at him, smirking a little. "Oh, I thought we were here to talk. 'Cause last time I checked, you were too busy to teach me anything useful. Guess you did promise, isn't that right?" You continued and raised an eyebrow. "So... what's the deal, huh? You just gonna stand there, or are we gonna start this driving lesson?"

He was still giving you that dead-eyed stare like you just asked him to swallow down rusty nails. The way Daryl was looking at you, all calm but irritated at the same time—it made everything weirder. But now, you had no choice. You had to get on that machine if you wanted to learn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him after he took the motorcycle and got onto it himself. "Get on."

You hesitated before swinging your leg over it as well, the movement too awkward to be smooth. There was no denying it—there was a whole lot of you that wasn't exactly eager to be pressed up against him.

You bit your lip but tried to keep your cool. "Alright, I'm on."

Daryl didn't answer. He just started the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars, and that was when you had to settle into place—right behind him. You were close now—way too close—and that knot in your stomach was only tightening itself. You couldn't help it. You had to steady yourself, right? And as much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself sliding your hands down, almost instinctively. But... it wasn't enough.

And it wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. The way he was so broad, strong, and so very close made it impossible to think straight. Your palms were sweating, and it wasn't because you were nervous about falling off. It was him. Just him. And God, it was infuriating, letting your thoughts run wild.

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can't he just be an asshole and not… this?

Your hands moved. Lower.

You didn't mean to, but... there you were. Your fingers grabbed his hips, right there in front of you and so, so very close. He was warm, so warm, and you couldn't not notice it, even if you tried. But you weren't even trying.

Oh, no. Don't. Don't do it. Not now...

But your hands stayed right there. Resting on his hips. You couldn't help it.

God, he feels good. Warm. Strong. Hell, if I slide even lower, maybe I can make him feel me, too. What if I just—

You quickly cut your thoughts off, but the temptation was there. It was stupid. It's Daryl, you reminded yourself, though it didn't make the racing of your heart in your chest any less intense.

"Quit it. Jus' hold on," he suddenly said, still keeping his focus on the road in front of you.

You snapped out of it, blinking as though you were just pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

"Me?" You shot back, trying to sound as neutral as possible, hoping he didn't feel the way your heart was pounding. "You're the one acting like you've got a stick up your ass. Don't act like I'm the problem here."

Daryl didn't respond—again. His hands tightened on the handlebars, and you felt him move slightly on the motorcycle. You wondered if he could feel the way you were still pressed against him, too. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign, but hell, you weren't sure whether that was calming you down or just making everything worse.

Your hands were still grabbing his hips. Still low. Still in the danger zone. And every second you stayed on that seat that close behind him, the more you realized just how close you were to crossing a line you couldn't uncross, too.

Just stop touching him like that. For God's sake, control yourself...

But it was too late, wasn't it? Your hands were already doing what they wanted, sliding ever so slightly as Daryl revved the engine beneath you. And as the machine roared further and you felt the vibration between your legs, you couldn't deny it—you were holding on tight...

And shit, you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't think straight.

Your hands—those traitorous, slightly trembling hands—started to move further without you even trying. At first, you could feel the hardness of his muscles under his shirt. You didn't mean to, but your fingers couldn't resist anymore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept telling yourself you weren't like this, but the warmth of his body in front of you, the vibrations of the motorcycle—the whole situation—it was clearly messing with your head.

And then your fingers touched the waistband of his pants. Your mind started spiraling.

Fuck, stop it.

But your hands were moving still, just a little further, and before you could catch yourself, you were dangerously close to slipping one whole hand past the button of his pants.

Why does this feel so fucking good? So right? No! This is so wrong!

You knew you shouldn't be doing this. You were driving yourself crazy just being this close to him. You should pull away and act like nothing happened. But the thought of him—of the way he looked, the way he smelled—it was too much.

Should I really keep going? You wondered, heart racing. What if I just slide my hand inside and just feel him?

The idea was so sudden it made your stomach growl, but you couldn't stop imagining it. The way he'd react—if he'd stop the motorcycle and throw you off, or if he'd just let you have your way.

But your hand froze at the button of his pants, resting there, barely touching it. You hated how much you wanted to go further, how much you needed to.

Pull back. Move your hand away. Stop thinking about how strong he is.

The way his muscles moved under your fingers, how he wasn't even saying one thing to stop you. Did he want this? Did he feel it too? You hated how much you wanted to find out.

But Daryl kept driving, focusing on the surroundings and possible dangers as you left Alexandria.

Why isn't he stopping me?

He was tense, but that was it. No words, no warnings. And that drove you wild.

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

Your mind was on fire now, and you wanted him so badly, it felt like your whole body was about to explode. And the weirdest part? You weren't sure you even cared anymore if this was wrong.

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

You didn't finish that thought, and as soon as Daryl pulled off the road and into a clearing surrounded by trees, the motorcycle came to a stop.

"This'll do," he said, getting off it and motioning for you to follow.

You stumbled off, your legs still shaky from holding yourself together.

Right now, you wanted to hate him. To scream at him. But the truth was, you were more pissed at yourself. You were supposed to be learning how to ride a motorcycle, not imagining what it would feel like to be all over him and…

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

"Alright, what's next?" You asked, doing your best to sound casual even as your heart was still racing. "You gonna teach me how not to eat dirt or just let me ride it?"

Daryl glared at you, one eyebrow raised like you were the one making this complicated. "Jus' pay attention."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Sure, 'cause that's been working out for me so far." You crossed your arms, a little too aware of how your body felt like it was overheating.

Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him...

He was already gesturing to the motorcycle again, explaining the controls all over. "Clutch, brake, throttle—all that stuff."

You nodded, doing your best to stay focused despite how goddamn awkward you felt.

Focus; you can do this.

You glanced at him and caught the way his hands moved around near you, the way his fingers got hold of the throttle like he was born to do this.

"Ya won't wreck it if ya listen."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah… 'if,' but okay."

Daryl took a step closer, the space between you suddenly feeling way too small. "Stop makin' jokes, and start payin' some real attention."

You could feel how he stared you down, even without looking into his eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you were blushing—hard.

Shit, shit, shit.

He then smirked, only a little, and you wanted to punch him for it. Or kiss him. You weren't sure. Either way, you tugged at the collar of your shirt like it was too tight, but there was no escaping it.

Daryl was watching you, though his smirk was already gone again. "Jus' sit down on it. Let's see if ya can at least do that alone while out here, without fallin' over."

You had to swallow hard.

Just get on, just get on, and don't think about him.

Your mind was screaming at you to stop acting like you wanted to crawl all over him, but your body was betraying you.

And Daryl for sure wasn't even trying to make it easier, and all you could do was grit your teeth and pray you didn't lose it.

The first time you tried to balance the motorcycle, you almost tipped it over, but Daryl quickly got a hold of it—and you—before you really ate dirt.

"Goddamn it," he groaned, yanking you upright and keeping the motorcycle steady. "Yer fightin' the damn thing instead o' drivin' it. Quit makin' it harder for yerself."

You shot him a glare but didn't respond, figuring it was easier to just get the lesson over with. This time, he stepped in behind you, hands landing on your waist like he was holding onto a ticking time bomb. His grip tightened just enough to make you aware of his presence, but you weren't going to let him throw you off balance.

"Ease up on the damn clutch," he grumbled. "Slowly. Ya ain't in a damn hurry."

By the third or fourth try, you were starting to get the hang of it. You made it a few feet without the motorcycle wobbling like it had been possessed. You didn't even stall it this time.

"Look at me!" You grinned over your shoulder at him all triumphant as you stopped at a treeline. "I'm basically a stunt double at this point! Wanna try jumping flaming buses next?"

Daryl shot you that look again. The one that made you want to throw something at him. "Nah, yer bein' an amateur stunt double wantin' to set yerself on fire… 'cause ya can't keep yer hands to yerself."

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

But who needed to play it safe when you could push this lesson to the limit and prove yourself?

You twisted the throttle again but felt a sudden rush of speed. "Shit!" You screamed from far away. "Fuck!"

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Daryl shouted before you were hurtling forward at fast speed, your stomach dropping as it made everything around you blurry in sight. You had no idea how to stop in the heat of the moment without throwing yourself off it, and that realization hit you hard. You were in panic mode now, and trying to steer only made it worse.

"Daryl? A little help here, please!" You screamed, gripping the handlebars as your hands shook.

"Hold on!" Daryl yelled, but his warning was already too late. The front wheel hit something—a big rock? A tree stump? You didn't even see it. All you knew was that the motorcycle lurched like a wild animal wanting to throw you off its back.

For a moment, you were sure you were about to die. But Daryl wasn't about to let that happen. He lunged forward, grabbing you and yanking you off the seat just before it tipped completely and threw you off.

You and Daryl went down, both of you slamming into the ground hard. You landed on top of him—completely on top of him, with your thighs pressed against his hips and your upper body crashing against his chest.

You knew you fucked up, but his expression only made it worse. The slight pain in your body was nothing compared to the humiliation you felt. All you could do was catch your breath and stare at him.

And Daryl was flat-out pissed. His face was full of rage, and he was breathing hard from the crash. He shoved you off him, his hands on your shoulders as he stood up.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!?" His eyes were practically burning holes through you. "I told ya to slow the hell down and focus! Ya don't listen for shit!"

You didn't want to admit that he was right, that you'd been very reckless. "Well, maybe you should've taught me how to actually ride instead of standing there like a statue and just barking orders!"

Daryl's hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

You were both breathing fast now, adrenaline still running through your veins. "And maybe I'm just a fast learner, okay?" You continued.

Daryl looked at you like he was about to rip you in half. "Yer not a fast learner; yer a damn idiot! And now I gotta drag yer dumb ass back!"

He grabbed the motorcycle and swung his leg over it with a grunt. "Get the fuck on," he growled in frustration.

You glared at him for a moment, but you weren't about to argue. You had to get home. You had no choice but to follow him.

Throwing your leg over the seat, you settled behind him. You couldn't even look up now. Every time you did, your stomach hurt in a way that made no sense. The anger, the shame—it was all so degrading. You wanted to argue. You really did. But you were too embarrassed, and your body was too sore to keep up any fight.

Daryl started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life under you. As he sped down the road, you couldn't help but notice how tense his body still was. Every muscle in his back seemed to be stiff. And he didn't say a word anymore. Not a single word as you rode back toward Alexandria in silence.

His hands gripped the handlebars with such force, you swore the motorcycle might crack in half under the pressure if he kept it up.

You were pissed as well. Pissed at yourself for fucking up and pissed at him for making you feel all... this. You hated that you couldn't read him, hated how he could just shut everything out like that, and especially for making you feel something you didn't want to feel.

Once back at Alexandria, the garage door had barely been shut when Daryl's frustration exploded. He was still breathing hard from the ride, and he hadn't pushed you away since you'd now gotten back, but the way he was glaring at you said enough.

He took a step toward you, pushing you back a little. "Crashed my damn bike…"

"I didn't wreck it, Daryl," you argued. "It's fine!"

"Fine?" He repeated. "That's what ya call near splittin' yer skull open?"

"I didn't crash on purpose!" You shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I'm not dumb!"

He let out a mean laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Coulda fooled me, dumbass!"

"You're the one all trembling here, not me!" You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto whatever bit of defiance was left. "It was an accident, Daryl," you continued, glaring right back at him. "It's not like I'm trying to be your damn stunt double!"

He scoffed, not buying your excuse. "Bullshit. Ya were pushin' it, tryin' to prove somethin', weren't ya? Ya coulda gotten yerself killed!"

Maybe he was right; maybe you had been showing off, but why bother with giving him the satisfaction and letting him know that it was the truth?

"What's your problem, Dixon? It isn't like I destroyed the damn thing," you scoffed.

He shot you a glare. "Problem is, ya don't think. Out there, one screw-up ain't jus' a scratch—it's the difference 'tween comin' back or not comin' back at all!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please! Spare me the PSA! It isn't like I don't know how this shit works! We're all one wrong turn away from dead anyway! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he growled, "is ya don't get to pull that shit with my bike!"

His finger shot out, pointing toward the side of the motorcycle. "Look at this," he growled. "Ya see that?"

You glanced where he was pointing and shrugged. "What, a couple of scratches? Boo-fucking-hoo! Rub some dirt with your spit on it; it'll be fine!"

"Couple o' scratches?" His voice rose, and he bent down to run a hand along the damaged part. "Ya know how I worked on this, ain't that right? To get it runnin' smooth?"

He crouched, looking at the machine like he was inspecting a wounded animal. "Look."

"What?"

"Look," he snarled once more, pointing his finger at the gas tank.

Reluctantly, you stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The scratches weren't as bad as you'd expected—some scuffed paint and a tiny dent, hardly catastrophic.

"Oh no," you pretended to be shocked and threw your hands up. "It's ruined! Better put it out of its misery!"

Daryl turned around, staring at you in disbelief and anger. "That funny to ya?"

"A little," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. "Newsflash, Dixon! This is a hunk of metal. It'll survive!"

His jaw clenched, and he stood up so fast you stumbled back. "Ain't the damn point," he snapped, stepping closer.

"Then what is the point?" You demanded in return.

"The point is," he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "ya don't listen. Yer always so goddamn dumb, thinkin' ya know better—"

"I do know better!" You interrupted him. "I could rebuild this bike with my eyes closed! Hell, I could build you a new one from… a scratch!"

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing fast as he stared at you. His eyes looked down to your arms, and you followed his line of sight, realizing for the first time that you were trembling.

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Ya hurt?"

"No," you lied, crossing your arms to hide the shaking.

Daryl huffed, and his frustration was boiling over again. "Bullshit."

He moved toward you, closing the space between you as he grabbed you by the arm. You flinched but didn't pull away. His grip tightened, pulling you back toward the motorcycle you'd nearly wrecked.

"Get on," he growled, holding you still.

You froze, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Get on the fuckin' bike," he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head. "You're out of your damn mind."

But you didn't fight it when he shoved you over to the seat, guiding you like you were weighing nothing at all. You hadn't expected this—his touch and his obvious anger.

But it wasn't just the crash. No. It was the way his eyes looked at you—like he was waiting for you to back down, to beg for mercy even.

"What?" You scoffed. "You're pissed 'cause I fucked up your bike? Is that it? So fucking ridiculous!"

"'S part of it," he answered, and before you could respond, his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

And you weren't sure what you expected from him, but you didn't expect the force of his lips on yours.

His kiss was aggressive. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. It was all teeth and tongue and the feel of his stubble against your skin.

You tried to pull back, pushing at his chest. "What the hell—!"

"Shut the fuck up."

You barely had time to react before he was pushing you against the motorcycle, and his hands found their way under your shirt. It was almost too much to bear—the roughness of his touch. It had no place here, not with you two practically being strangers in this world, but somehow it made sense.

And no, you didn't pull away. Not now.

"Daryl—" You cut yourself off when his hand slid down to your waistband, tugging at your pants, a movement that was fast and urgent. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your throat.

He didn't respond, not in words anyway, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, forcing you to stay still.

He wanted you—had wanted you, maybe for longer than he'd ever care to admit.

You gasped again when he pulled your pants down roughly, his hands moving along your hips before dragging them down your legs. You knew his hands were capable—he could gut a deer in under a minute, rebuild a bike from scratch—but this? This was a whole different level of skill, and you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by how quickly he had you undone.

But you didn't have time to process it before Daryl was standing again, his face dangerously close to yours, eyes burning with a fire that made you blush.

God, his eyes.

They weren't just looking at you—they were staring you down.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding down to your hips and pushing himself closer until there was no space between your bodies.

And then, his fingers slipped beneath your panties, and he slid two of them into you. Without warning.

You cried out at the suddenness of it, at the overwhelming feeling, but you didn't stop him.

"Still think I'm tremblin'?" He asked as he moved them inside you with a pace that made your head spin. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Sure, he was frustrated—but now it was all coming out, only in a way that you'd never expected. You didn't know what this was—what this would be afterward—but damn if it didn't feel like the only thing that mattered right now.

As his breath turned quicker against your neck, the urgency of his fingers quickened, too. Until he pulled them out of you. The moment he removed his hand, licking his fingers clean, you almost cursed aloud, the emptiness threatening to drive you mad.

He didn't give you time to say anything, didn't even let you think about it, because in the next moment, his hands were yanking your shirt up over your head, and your bra was gone just as fast.

But the way he studied you, every inch of you—like he was savoring the moment as if you were a piece of art he needed to drink in—made everything feel too much. Too much to take. Too much to bear. But also too good to stop.

You couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but let him have his way, and your eyes squeezed shut as you fought to hold it together.

Without a word, Daryl kneeled back down onto the ground again, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing them apart for him.

"Open yer eyes," he ordered, but you didn't. You just couldn't. But you could feel him there, right between your legs, and the anticipation was nearly killing you.

No, you couldn't do anything but obey as his hand was pulling your panties down and his other hand's thumb stroked across your clit, but something else caught his attention. A bruise on your thigh started to slowly form itself from when you'd crashed.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips pressing hard against the bruise. His teeth bit into the skin, and then he sucked on it with a hunger that had nothing to do with the motorcycle and the crash.

You gasped loudly, eyes opening wide as the sharp sting of his bite was followed by the slow, deep suck of his mouth.

His lips left the bruise for a moment, but it wasn't gone long. His tongue licked over the edges of it, then his teeth, scraping some more, making your legs shiver with lust and a little bit of pain.

As his fingers moved toward and away from your wet pussy, to brush over the scratches on one leg from the crash, you could feel the pressure of his touch as he traced over each one. He didn't care about the discomfort it caused, didn't care about the marks—they were his to play with.

A growl left his throat as he scratched them a little harder, just a little deeper, making you whimper.

You didn't even realize you were staring at him until his blue eyes looked up into yours, a silent claim that went deeper than anything else.

"Ain't lettin' ya look away," he warned as his hands gripped your thighs again, forcing your trembling legs to stay open for him.

And God, they were.

His touch was everything you didn't know you needed as he slipped his fingers back into you—simply all-consuming. His thumb stroked your clit yet again, and you were sure you were going to lose it way too fast.

And the way he kept looking at you—like he was daring you to look away…

But you didn't. Not once.

The pressure was building, that sweet, unbearable pressure, until it felt like you were going to burst into flames.

Indeed, it was pure fire.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya look away."

His fingers found their rhythm, slow but deep, making you moan out loud, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and on him.

"Yeah, 's it," he growled. "Focus."

You nodded wildly, the feeling overtaking everything, your body desperate for more. Every bit of your skin was burning, and you hated how badly you needed this.

"Daryl… I," you gasped, your hands holding on for dear life on the motorcycle seat, trying to stay upright but close to losing the battle with every pump. "I can't—fuck!"

"Can't what? Focus? Ain't nothin' new," he answered, his thumb still on your clit while his fingers were thrusting away. "Can't handle it? Ya jus' gotta focus. Keep yer eyes on me."

You were close, so fucking close already, but he wasn't letting up.

His fingers moved so roughly inside of you, pressing against your G-spot, which soon made you feel certain this was it—this was the moment.

Your legs were shaking hard, your breath coming in quick, desperate moans. "Fuck… fuck…" You whimpered, fingers tightening on the seat behind you.

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

The sudden loss of his fingers was like being thrown into a room full of walkers. You groaned, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to go after what was just within reach, but he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and half-crazed.

"What the fuck, Daryl!" You cried out loud as you glared down at him, but Daryl only had the audacity to smirk, licking his fingers off once more like you hadn't been about to shatter into pieces.

"Keep still and shut up," he growled, and before you could scream at him, his head was between your legs.

Your words turned into a choked cry as his tongue moved over your clit, the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs making you squirm.

It wasn't fair. You were already so close, your body trembling so hard it hurt, but now he was dragging it out, taking his sweet-ass time, licking and sucking like he had all damn day.

"Fuck—fucking hell, Daryl," you hissed, hands grabbing his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The vibrations shot straight through you, making your thighs clench around his head, but he didn't stop—he didn't even flinch.

"Thought ya were so good at takin' risks," he taunted, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke.

And with that, he sucked on it so hard you nearly screamed, the feeling of it being just on the edge of pain, but God, it was perfect. You were so damn close again, and this time, you needed it.

If he pulled away now, you swore you'd kill him.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips grinding against his mouth in a way that should've embarrassed you. "Daryl, fuck, don't you dare stop again—"

His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue pushed you further and further until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge.

But it wasn't just his mouth—oh no. His hands were keeping you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was claiming you, and maybe he was. You didn't care. You just wanted more.

"Fuck—Daryl, I'm—" Your voice broke, too far gone to even finish the sentence.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "What? Yer what?" His voice was rough and way too sarcastic for a man who was driving you insane.

"Stop it and finish me!" You snapped, your hands pulling at his hair like it would somehow speed him up.

He laughed—actually laughed—and that sound went straight through you. But before you could cuss him out for being an 'insufferable bastard,' his fingers were back on you, two sliding inside so easily you swore you saw stars.

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

"Fuck—holy shit!" You gasped, your thighs trembling as he stretched you wide. The feeling was nearly too much, but it was just right, and when his fingers started pumping in and out, so deep and hard, you couldn't do anything but ride it out.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching for yours. You wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was watching you like he was saving every second of this to memory, but you didn't. He wouldn't let you.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya fuckin' look away."

You didn't think you could blush any harder—you didn't think you had the energy left for it—but then his other hand moved, his thumb pressing into the bruise on your thigh, just hard enough to make you wince.

"Shit—Daryl, that hurts!" You hissed at him, but his grip tightened, keeping you still.

"Good," he growled, looking at you. "Should hurt."

His fingers inside your pussy were picking up speed, driving you mad with how good they felt.

"Ya think I'm jus' gonna let ya off easy after crashin' my bike?"

He pressed harder into the bruise, making you whimper from the pain that somehow only made everything hotter.

"Nah. Yer gonna feel this. Remember this."

You hated how much it turned you on—the sting of his thumb on your bruise along with the pumping of his fingers inside you and the way his mouth was so close to your clit again.

"Please—fuck—please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. You just needed something—anything—to finally push you over the edge.

"C'mon," he growled against you, not stopping. "C'mon, woman. Fuckin' let go. Let me fuckin' have it."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Everything inside you exploded so intensely you moaned out loud, your whole body arching as the orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

You tried to keep your legs from giving out, but they were done, trembling so hard you had no choice but to lean fully against the motorcycle once more, trying to hold yourself steady. But Daryl didn't stop. His mouth stayed on you, his tongue again working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm until you were shaking all over, whimpering and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then did he pull his fingers out in a way that made sure you'd feel everything.

But before you could catch your breath, his hands were on you again, gripping your thighs like they belonged to him. Without a word, he hoisted your legs up, wrapping them around his neck. The sudden movement made you yelp, but he didn't care—not one bit.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Shut up," he growled, his voice ragged as he shifted you off the motorcycle and onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing. "Focus."

The cold floor hit your back as he lowered you down, your body shivering against it. He moved near you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide as he settled between them again, his face just inches from where you were still dripping for him.

You barely had time to process the new position before his tongue was back on you, licking slow and deep, making you moan aloud through the garage. All you could do was writhe and shake beneath him, your hands searching for anything to grab and hold onto—his hair, his shoulders, the cold floor—trying to keep still as he worked you over.

But then, just when you thought he'd keep going until you couldn't take anymore, he moved, his mouth leaving your pussy as he started to lick and kiss—hot, wet, and sloppy—all over you.

And he didn't move fast. He took his time, crawling up your body like he was deciding which part of you he should tease next. You felt his breath across your skin, so warm yet unsteady, while his hands worked on keeping you exactly where he wanted you—legs spread wide, no room to close yourself off, no room to argue.

His hands? Oh, you knew those hands could kill you if they wanted to, but the way he traced the edges of the scratches on your thigh? Fuck, it was worse. Slow. On purpose. Just enough pressure to remind you it was there. A reminder you didn't need, but apparently, he thought you needed.

The tip of his thumb ran over them once, twice, then pressed down harder. You flinched—it was pure instinct—but his other hand clamped down on your leg, pinning you to the floor. His thumb didn't move, didn't give you a break. If anything, he pressed harder, and you hissed through your teeth. He groaned, low and deep, like your slight discomfort was exactly what he wanted.

Daryl soon leaned down and kissed them. He kissed them like he was apologizing. Then his teeth grazed over the same scratches, and you realized he wasn't sorry for it at all. His tongue followed, licking slowly and wetly over the stinging feeling of them, and your back arched itself off the floor.

By the time he moved up to the bruise on your hips, his fingers found it first, pressing into your flesh like he was testing it, seeing how much it was hurting you. You flinched again, but this time, his response was immediate—a growl coming out of his throat as his fingers dug in deeper.

"Daryl," you started, but your voice cracked, and you knew that he wasn't listening anyway. His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first kiss of his lips made your head snap up.

Not soft, not tender—he sucked on the bruise as if he wanted to drag the pain out of you, to make you feel every sting of it.

He kept going, his mouth kissing up your ribs, licking, biting, sucking, finding every bruise that was forming itself, every scratch, and making sure you knew he'd found them.

"Fuckin' hell…" He whispered as his mouth moved higher, pressing kisses to your chest, in between your tits, before his tongue licked over one nipple.

You gasped as he sucked it into his mouth, one of his hands moving to tease the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

He didn't let up. He crawled higher over you, his body pinning you down, his mouth moving up to your collarbone, where his tongue licked over it next.

By the time he reached your neck, you were a mess, your hands now clawing at his shoulders, desperate for him to give you more, to stop teasing. And he knew it.

But he wasn't done. His teeth found your neck, and he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, your thighs instantly squeezing around his hips.

"Goddamn," he growled as his mouth finally reached yours. "Look atcha… all wrecked."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you.

And fuck, you didn't care.

Daryl left no room for argument—not that you had any strength left to argue.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved back down between your legs, slipping through the wetness he'd left behind when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, and his smirk certainly showed that he was satisfied with himself.

He wasn't asking for permission, no, but he wasn't rushing either. And he was now giving you the chance to stop him without saying a word.

When you didn't push him away, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes seemed darker now, his pupils all wide, searching for something, waiting.

Your hands slid up his strong back, trembling slightly but steadying themselves as they reached his shoulders. You gave him a small but quick nod as you took a shaky breath.

That was all he needed.

With a growl, Daryl's hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach fast but not harshly. Before you could even process it all, he pressed himself down against your ass.

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

He grabbed your hips again, pulling you back just enough to hold them upward. You felt his cock pressing against your ass, still in his pants but unmistakably hard as he grunted and pushed it against you, his hands only holding on harder.

The deep and loud groan he made? You couldn't help but push back against him.

You barely had time to listen to the sound of his zipper before he was back, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing, the wetness of your pussy making it too easy for him to glide against you.

Your fingers were clawing at the floor as you tried to push back, but his hands held you in place.

His hips rocked forward, and the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy. You tensed, your breath stopping at the sheer size of it, but he didn't push in—not completely. He was letting you feel every inch of how big he was.

When he did push inside, it was enough to stretch you wide open, and with one slow thrust, he sank into you, filling you up. Still, Daryl didn't move right away. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, as he gave you a moment to adjust and made sure you were okay.

Then, he finally started to move.

Slow at first, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, each movement so controlled.

But it didn't take long for him to move faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

And you couldn't do anything but take it as he pinned you down.

"Daryl—" you moaned, but he cut you off with a growl, his arm sliding down around you, pulling your hips higher to give him better access.

"Don't talk," he ordered, trying not to lose himself. "Jus' take it."

And you did. God, you did.

The garage felt almost suffocating now, and all you could smell was the scent of sweat and sex. The only sounds to be heard were your fast-breathing moans of yourself and his feral grunts as Daryl moved behind you. Every thrust was deep, driving you forward just to pull you back again with a growl, his grip on your hips leaving marks you'd wear for days.

Your hands still searched for any kind of hold against the floor, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of it all threatened to break you apart. His cock stretched you in a way that still bordered on too much, each thrust rougher than the last, and yet you couldn't get enough of it—of him.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, his voice sounding as if the word was being dragged out from deep inside him.

You couldn't respond to him, not with the way he filled you so completely, your body trembling under his control. But he didn't need any words in return from you. His hand slid from your hip, moving along your ass and up your spine, before he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Don't lose focus now," he growled, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His stubble grazed along your shoulder as he pressed his mouth down, his lips rough, almost punishing. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave another mark.

You cried out, clenching around him involuntarily. "Daryl—"

"Shut up," he said, cutting you off with another bite to your shoulder, this one softer than the last. His teeth were still on the mark he'd made, right before his tongue soothed it, leaving you shivering.

Daryl's pace quickened, each thrust making your overstimulated body shudder.

"Goddamn, look atcha," he grumbled, his voice full of lust. "Really fuckin' wrecked, ain't ya?"

You whimpered in response, your head falling forward and almost hitting the floor, but your body was still being held on tight by his grip.

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

"C'mon," he growled, his hand tightening around your chest to keep you steady as his thrusts grew erratic. "Stay with me, woman. Focus. Fuckin' focus."

You didn't have a choice. His arm around your chest and his cock buried so deep inside you made it impossible to think about anything else. And the pressure was building again, unavoidable, and you knew he could feel it—the way your pussy clenched around him, desperate to feel him come, too.

And he didn't slow down. He didn't ease the pace or give you any room to breathe. Instead, he buried his face against you again, his lips sucking on your neck, his tongue following to taste the sweat of your skin.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice all muffled against your neck. "Goddamn, ya feel so fuckin' good."

His hips thrust forward, harder and faster, and you could feel him getting close, his movements losing their rhythm as his breathing turned ragged.

"Fuck—fuck," he groaned, his arm moving from your chest to hold your hip again, his hand grabbing you roughly as his thrusts went deeper. "Gonna—fuck, I'm—"

He didn't finish the sentence. With a loud groan that was almost sounding more animal than man, he pulled out, his hand gripping his cock as he came all over your back with force.

You stayed there momentarily, still on the cold floor of the garage, as you tried to piece yourself back together. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling so badly you weren't even sure they'd hold you if you tried to stand up.

Daryl soon moved off behind you, his heavy breathing just as loud and uneven as yours as he leaned against the motorcycle for balance. His cum was feeling all warm across your back, but you didn't have the energy to care—not yet.

Finally, he straightened himself, pulling his pants back up and putting his softening cock away. You heard the sound of his footsteps next to you as he walked around the garage, and for a second, you thought he was going to leave you there, fucked and half-naked in the garage.

But not long after, he was back, something soft and slightly damp rubbing over your skin.

"Hold still," he grunted. "Gotta clean ya up."

You flinched, moving your head to see what he was doing. Daryl had an old, torn rag in one hand, smudged with a little bit of dry oil, but it was enough to do the job. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you still as he wiped away the mess of his cum he'd left behind.

"You could've at least grabbed a clean one," you grumbled, but there wasn't any real annoyance in your voice.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside. "Yer alright?"

You smirked, despite the ache in your legs. "What, worried I might've cracked under all that control?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he just grunted before crouching in front of you. His hands found your arms as he helped you up, his strength the only thing keeping you from falling right back to the floor.

"Easy," he mumbled, sliding one arm around your waist to steady you. "Ain't wantin' to pick yer ass up again if ya fall."

"Not my fault," you answered, your legs wobbling as you tried to find your balance. "You're the one who—"

"Don't even start," he cut you off quickly, but definitely with amusement. "Ya got no one to blame but yer damn self."

His arm stayed around you as you took a few shaky steps with him by your side as if you had to learn how to walk again, your knees still threatening to buckle. You hated how he looked at you right now, showing you a smirk as he watched you struggle.

"Shut up," you grumbled, leaning against him more than you wanted to admit.

"Ain't said nothin'," he smirked, but the way his hand tightened on your waist betrayed his satisfaction.

Once you were steady enough to stand on your own, he let go, his hands falling to his sides. As you reached for your clothes, putting them on with clumsy, trembling fingers, Daryl leaned against the motorcycle again, watching you with that same gaze he'd had earlier, his blue eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"So? Ya still reckless?" He suddenly asked, as if to taunt you.

You glared at him as you put on your bra and shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Crashin' my bike," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then gettin' all riled up when ya can't handle shit."

Feeling your cheeks turn red, the heat was spreading all over your face as you turned to zip up your pants. "Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn caveman, my attention would've—"

"Caveman, huh?" Daryl stepped closer, the space closing between you until you could feel the presence of him behind your back. One hand came up, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your thigh from earlier, the touch rather gentle.

"Caveman kept ya focused now, didn't he?" He continued, his lips all close near your ear. "Got yer attention real good."

You hated how easily your body responded to him even now, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Next time," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "ya might think twice 'bout tryin' to show off."

His fingers then pressed into the bruise just enough to make you wince, reminding you of the lesson he'd drilled into you—literally.

"Control," he said, stepping back again. "Might save yer damn ass next time."

You turned to face the motorcycle with a scowl as you adjusted your clothes, looking around for your jacket. "Are you done lecturing me, or should I grab a notepad?"

"Nah. Jus' get yer shit together," he answered. "We're headin' out again tomorrow. Yer ridin' bitch till ya prove ya can handle it."

Laughing at that, your words were coming out faster than your still-wobbly legs could even move. "Riding bitch, huh?" You repeated as you turned to face him. "Next time you're teaching me to drive, I'll be riding something, alright—but it sure as shit won't be the bike."

It was a bold answer, considering your legs still felt like they'd been switched for spaghetti, but you weren't about to let him see you back down.

Daryl's lips twitched, that small smirk coming back as he closed the distance between you in a few quick movements. One hand shot out, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Keep talkin'," he grumbled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "See where it gets ya."

You grinned, biting his thumb just enough to make him hiss. "I think it gets me exactly where I want to be," you responded, voice all daring, even as your pulse kicked up a notch all over. "Don't you think?"

Daryl's silence was answer enough, and for a moment, you thought he might snap again, dragging you into another round right there on the spot. But for now, and for once, you decided to savor and enjoy your little victory. Of course, it didn't last long.

You weren't sure who moved first, but before you knew it, you were pulling him down by his collar, your lips crashing onto his like they had something to prove.

The kiss was all grunts and stubbornness, his teeth biting at your lip as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. You didn't even notice when his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.

"Y'ain't got any sense o' self-control," he mumbled against your mouth, but he didn't stop kissing you, one hand sliding up to grab the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, smirking up at him. "And you've got too much of it," you shot back.

You knew this would've gone on longer—should've gone on longer—but the sound of the side door from the garage to the house opening stopped you both in place like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Daryl?" Aaron's voice was to be heard, and you felt the blood freeze in your veins. "Are you both back already?"

Daryl let out a growl, his forehead slowly dropping to yours like he was trying to collect himself before turning to look toward the unwanted interruption.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his eyes looking between the two of you, taking in the sheer awkwardness of it all. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his brain back to factory settings.

"Oh…" Aaron said after a moment, his voice sounding a little bit higher than usual. "I just—uh—saw the garage door was closed from the outside when I came back. Thought you were done with, uh, teaching? I just wanted to get—"

Daryl cleared his throat, stepping back from you but not bothering to hide his irritation. "'M still teachin'."

Aaron's mouth opened like he was about to ask something else, but you jumped in before he could make things even worse. "Yeah, exactly," you said, smiling at him before you looked back at Daryl. "He's teachin' me how to… focus."

The words had barely left your mouth before Daryl shot you a look. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "And 'bout… control."

Aaron stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in urgent need of water. Finally, he managed to let out a quiet, "Still teaching, huh?" His voice was full of disbelief. "About control and focus?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "Of course! And let me tell you, Daryl's got a real hands-on approach." Daryl gave you a warning look, but you ignored him. "Next time, maybe we'll move on to, I dunno, accelerating!"

"Yeah," Daryl answered flatly, his tone as casual as if Aaron had walked in on him fixing the motorcycle, not having had you taken against it. "Focusin' on the road ahead. Controllin' the bike while… ridin' it."

Aaron arched only one eyebrow this time. "Right," he said, dragging the word out like it was hurting him. "Well, maybe teach her outside of Alexandria next time instead of Eric's and my garage?"

You snorted. "Oh, we can, for sure. But Daryl's really good at teaching me how to focus on what's in front of me," you said sweetly. "It's the control part I keep getting stuck on."

Aaron let out a short, strangled laugh, already backing toward the door. "Yeah, okay! Don't let me interrupt your lesson." His face went red, and he backed up so fast he nearly tripped. "I mean, it sounds, uh... productive. I'll just—yeah." He gestured around awkwardly as he was about to hurry back inside the house.

When he left, you could've sworn he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What the hell is wrong with all these people?" before he closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, you leaned against the workbench, your eyes moving to the motorcycle that had started this whole situation, after all. It stood there innocently enough, like it hadn't been witness to your absolute lack of keeping control. Stepping forward, you traced your fingers along one of the scratches on its gas tank.

"Looks like Frankenstein's bike's seen some rough handling, thanks to me," you said before your eyes moved back onto Daryl, who was watching you like an animal sizing up its next meal. "Guess it'll get used to bein' ridden hard."

Eyes looking up, you were daring him to take the bait. "Think you'll leave some scratches on me next time?"

His muscles were flexing like he was seconds from pulling you back to him. "Keep talkin', woman, and I jus' might."

You grinned, stepping away from the motorcycle and grabbing your jacket, which was on the floor near the workbench. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see, huh?" You put the jacket on, taking your time on purpose to let him stew in his frustration.

Just as you reached the garage door and opened it, you turned back toward Daryl, who'd started to talk, watching you lean your shoulder against the frame. "Yer walkin' funny, woman."

You stopped, moving your head up with a glare. "If I walk funny, I'm tellin' everyone it's 'cause of the bike." You made sure to add a smirk. "I'm going to say it was a wild ride—not a crash."

As you pushed yourself off the frame and stepped outside onto the streets of Alexandria, your grin was as wide as ever. "Thank you for the thorough lesson, Dixon."

But before the garage could even close behind you, something soft and slightly damp was flying past your head, landing on the ground in front of you.

"Jesus, was that—?" You started to laugh, realizing exactly what he'd thrown after you. "Oh, come on! Did you seriously throw that at me? Gross!"

Daryl leaned against the motorcycle, his smirk not obvious, but it was there. "Missed, didn't I?" He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. "Didn't miss on purpose."

"That's disgusting," you called back and laughed, unable to help yourself. "And I'm not picking that up!"

"Didn't ask ya to," he answered, pushing himself off the machine and taking a few steps closer to the street. "But yer might come back in here 'n pick up somethin' else."

"Not a chance," you snorted, shaking your head while you stumbled a little bit. "Better luck next time. Or… tomorrow."

"Fuckin' reckless…" Daryl growled, but with amusement in his voice as he watched you disappear ever so slowly. But he didn't move, not yet. "Jus' get yer damn ass back here!"

You were already down the street and smirking to yourself as you tried to walk and just waved him off, making it clear that it was all for show as you held up both middle fingers, trying to make it seem like you were stumbling away with your body intact.

And, of course, you were—kind of.

Either way, Daryl knew that next time, the only thing you'd be riding was him, and you'd make sure he would be the one struggling to keep focus and control.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: I couldn't help myself. I really think it would be cool to navigate Bucky's mind within a situation like this, so I really hope that this takes off honestly. I saw another writer on AO3 (@sunny_shadows, PLEASE check out their work, Shattered Under Midnight, it is fucking phenomenal) do story notes and explanations after the chapter, so I wanted to try that out as well! I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist.

Cryogenic frost was a completely different kind of frost. It was invasive; delving into every crack and crevice that it could; went into every orifice possible until you were cold from deep within. It hit you internally first; freezing your organs and bones first before it began to spread out to the muscles and tendons and fat of the human body.

It was uncomfortable, and when it was time to come out of the pod; the melting frost left behind such uncomfortable feelings that would have you desperately messing with your ears until the melted frost drained.

Don't even get Bucky started on the way his balls felt after.

It was an all-around uncomfortable feeling; disorienting and sickening that Bucky could recall some times when he would be taken out of cryo that he would throw up from the vertigo and aching that would come from deep within.

Even now, he could feel the tresses of nausea poking at his stomach as he stared up at the cryostasis pod that was steaming as it opened.

"You know, I think I vaguely remember telling you that I wasn't the only Winter Soldier...and I thought Zemo had killed the remaining Winter Soldier's back in Siberia."

His tone was annoyed, accusing, and the response that Bucky got back didn't make him feel any better about what his old-time friend was doing.

"Well, it seems Zemo was lying or he just wasn't aware that there were more soldier's within the program."

Steve then sighed as Bucky continued to stare at him, his brow furrowed deeply and making Steve return the look.

"Listen, with HYDRA being gone from these facilities, someone needs to rescue these people and rehabilitate them...just like we did with you."

Bucky's brow creased, and he was unrelenting as he turned to Steve, shaking his head.

"You don't understand. Without a handler, some of them can't be rehabilitated. I've trained these people, Steve, there's no getting through to them."

"We got through to you, didn't we? Besides, it wouldn't be right to leave these people in these pods like this."

Bucky's lips pursed and he spun around to face the cryostasis again, his metal arm whirring as the plates shifted; ready for a fight.

"That was different. You were my friend before everything...these people don't have anybody to bring them back."

Steve was quiet, concentrating on the pod. Slowly, a form began to show; boots, familiar leather pants, the same vest, and the same mask. Bucky couldn't help the tightening in his chest when he realized that the person in the pod wasn't just a Winter Soldier: they seemed to be a young woman; their hair becoming wet as the frost within it began to melt.

Beside the pod was a black book; most likely with notes about who the Soldier was and how to activate them, and Steve asked gently as the Soldier opened their eyes.

"Do we need to use the book?"

"I don't know."

Bucky was taken back by the brilliant (e/c) eyes that flicked to him for a moment before looking straight; and when the woman tried to take a step, they began to crumple to the ground. Steve jumped over the control center to catch them, giving Bucky a slightly miffed look as Bucky's feet stayed planted to the ground.

It was too familiar; too known, and Bucky was uncomfortable. He watched as Steve dragged the woman to a chair and sat her down, asking her.

"Hello, are you alright?"

She was unmoving and unblinking, staring straight ahead like a good soldier should and Bucky swallowed thickly, shaking his head. Steve asked her again, but Bucky shook his head a little more.

"She's not going to answer. You're not her handler."

"Okay, then how do we get through to her?"

Bucky pursed his lips, sighing heavily before he stood in front of the woman.

"укажите свое обозначение."

Her eyes came to life for a moment, glancing up at Bucky with a look that he knew all-too-well before she glanced back down; clenching her jaw.

"Зимний Солдат."

Bucky sighed deeply, rubbing his temples slightly, and Steve just observed, his blue eyes curious as he glanced between the two of them. Bucky then took the black book, noting the way the woman's shoulders seemed to square slightly; muscles in her neck tensing, and Bucky felt sick to his stomach. He handed it to Steve, muttering.

"There might be some information in here about her. If not, we'll look into the files we downloaded...if we have time."

Steve nodded, and Bucky turned to the woman again, asking.

"Что ты помнишь?"

"Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения."

Bucky frowned again, muttering to himself before he asked.

"Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать?"

Her jaw clenched again, and this time, she seemed hesitant to answer. Her eyes flicked up to Bucky, and he could see the uncomfortable look she was giving him within her eyes. The person that was in there was trying to respond; trying to tell him, but the programming wasn't allowing her to answer. Fear flashed in her eyes from the inability to complete his request, and Bucky could feel his throat trying to close up.

HYDRA was getting better at their programming, it seemed.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you're unable to answer. We are not HYDRA."

Confusion flashed within her eyes though her expression never wavered, and Steve stepped forward.

"We're with the Avengers...do you know who we are?"

"Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация."

Steve turned to Bucky and suggested, crossing his arms slightly.

"This might be a job for Shuri. We should contact King T'Challa and set out for Wakanda as soon as possible."

Bucky pursed his lips before he turned to the woman, her fists clenched slightly.

"Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия."

She stood up immediately, her eyes becoming dead again as the programming within her mind forced her to follow the commands of The Winter Soldier.

"Готов соблюдать."

Bucky hated it. He hated this feeling; of being the one on the opposite side of the glass; giving orders and handling. While Bucky had trained many super soldiers before, he wasn't ever a Handler like Brock Rumlow or Alexander Pierce. He was another instrument; another tool that just had higher privileges because of his compliance and performance record.

He had learned early on that resistance was futile and met with much harsher consequences.

No, the Winter Soldier's only purpose was to serve HYDRA and to further their cause. That was all. Anything that didn't involve a mission was null. He, among others like him, were only meant to serve the purpose of HYDRA and HYDRA alone.

But he hadn't activated her nor told her that he was her handler, so why was the soldier complying?

Was it possible that the woman had been frozen long enough that the programming was malfunctioning? Was she just assuming that Bucky was her handler because of his arm?

Or was it possible that she was faking it on pre-existing orders given before she was put under.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the soldier, the woman's eyes still just as dead-looking as they had been before; looking straight ahead. For a moment, however, her eyes flicked to his, and Bucky frowned before he turned to Steve, muttering.

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Steve's brow was furrowed, lips slightly pursed as he glanced over at Bucky, worry within his eyes.

"You having a bad feeling is never a great sign."

Bucky almost scoffed, but refrained from doing-so; elaborating on his thoughts about the situation instead.

"I never gave her any indication that I was her handler nor did I activate her. What if she has pre-existing orders?"

Steve frowned, his tone becoming more hushed as he walked a bit closer to Bucky.

"Are you saying that she's a threat?"

"Any Winter Soldier is a threat, but I don't know if she's an active threat or not is the problem. She's blankly following orders...either someone gave her a mission before she was put under or...it's possible she thinks that I am still...with HYDRA. We should be careful."

Steve glanced back behind him to look at the woman before glancing down at the black book within his hands. As the three of them walked to the quinjet, Steve instructed Bucky as he sat down at the controls.

"You go ahead and get her strapped in and call Shuri. I'm going to see if there's anything in here about who she is and where she came from."

Bucky nodded before he turned to the woman who was standing in the middle of the jet; rigid and unmoving. Bucky sighed slightly before instructing.

"Присаживайтесь."

Wordlessly, the soldier sat down, strapping herself into one of the seats, and Bucky took a long glance at her. To a normal; outside perspective, it would look as though she was completely still and robotic. It would seem as though she wasn't even breathing; a blank stare to the opposite wall and deathly still.

However, to a fellow soldier, Bucky could tell that there was something on the woman's mind. The soldier's fists were clenched as they rested upon the top of her thighs, eyebrow furrowed just slightly, and Bucky could tell that her feet were fidgeting inconspicuously.

If Bucky didn't know any better, he'd say that the woman seemed nervous.

But what about?

Bucky wasn't able to ponder the thought any longer. Instead, he simply just looked ahead and began to call Shuri, hoping that this wasn't going to end up in a fight.

~

STORY NOTES: In the beginning, Bucky is remembering what it was like to be put into a cryostasis pod. He recalls that it was uncomfortable and that the frost and ice seem to penetrate every orifice possible, which is extremely uncomfortable when being thawed.

Then, it is revealed that Bucky and Steve Rogers are on a mission to find any remaining super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program that weren't killed by Zemo, which Bucky is apprehensive about but Steve is adamant on doing.

The soldier within the cryostasis pod then awakens after being thawed, seeming to be completely blank. When Steve tries to make contact, the soldier does not respond, leaving Bucky to resort to acting as a Handler, finally getting responses out of the soldier.

While trying to ask the soldier for information, Bucky is unable to get anything useful from the woman. He makes an educated guess that HYDRA had further adapted their programming, making it difficult to make the soldier talk without having to completely activate them.

Steve decides to take a trip to Wakanda to see Shuri and T'Challa so they can rehabilitate the soldier just as they did with Bucky, but Bucky begins to think that the soldier is a threat due to their compliance despite Bucky not activating them nor introducing himself as their handler.

Bucky makes a final observation, noting that the woman seems nervous, though Bucky is unable to figure out what about. He speculates further that there could be foul play, and is unhappy at the possibility of a fight. End Scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

укажите свое обозначение - Indicate/State your Designation

Зимний Солдат - Winter Soldier

Что ты помнишь - What do you remember?

Невозможно завершить. Для выполнения инструкций необходимы дополнительные разъяснения - Unable to complete. Further clarification is required to complete the instructions.

Что ты помнишь перед тем, как тебя уложили спать - What do you remember before you were put to bed/sleep?

Невозможно завершить. Требуется дополнительная аутентификация - Unable to comply. Additional authentication required.

Следуй за мной, солдат. У меня есть для тебя миссия - Follow me, soldier. I have a mission for you.

Готов соблюдать - Ready to comply.

Присаживайтесь - Have a seat.

[angelsrcute]

Haloo :D im wondering if u r taking requests now but if u r can u write a fyodor with immortal female reader ? It would be wonderful if u can can but u can ignore this request if u want to

“ But can't you see my dear? I am your doppelganger ♡”

⌗ A LOVE IMMORTAL SUCH AS MINE, WILL COME TO ME, ETERNALLY. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Immortal!Vampire!Fyodor + Sub!Immortal!Vampire!F!Reader ➜ cws: Modern au, Jealous!Fyodor, Vampire themes, fwb → lovers, alcohol mentions, biting, unprotected sex + use of lube, tit play, overstimulation, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), slight Yandere!Fyodor(?), Soft!Fyodor.

꒰ † ੭ — this ended up being my longest fic ever, lol, 1.3k words!! I am taking reqs! + a lil inspiration from olgami, it's such a good webtoon. (人´∀`)♪ Translation: "Мышка" (myshka)

When humans age, they die and pass on to the afterlife, don't they? Death was something that never came to you, ah immortality, such a cool thing. It was more like a curse to you, humans coming and going, years passing by but still no one seemed to notice the same face walking among them for all these decades. Faces unrecognisable as you try to remember their names, their relation with you, not that it mattered anyway.

Relationships were a nuisance, blink and they're already gone, dead, as you stand in their funeral. It was a really funny thing, oh how you wished you could die instead of watching your loved ones die.

Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not a famous name for humans but for vampires, they say he's the oldest vampire to ever live. Have you ever met with him? You did, decades ago, in his bed, in his mansion, fyodor needed some relief and so did you.

He was the one who saved you from your death, why? Because he thought you were interesting. He'd take care of you and teach you how to hunt, how to kill people and make sure no one finds out. He seemed like a lonely man too, house deep in the woods, living all by himself.

The other vampires though, had this bloodlust, to kill him, to become the lord themselves. Everyone clawing at any chance they get, to paint their fingers red with his blood. You never understood their reasoning, what's so good living a life like this?

Dressed in the finest silk and jewelries, he liked seeing you in white clothing the most. He said it made you look like a saint, the saint that brought some change to his boring life. He definitely wasn't a fan of other vampires eyefucking you at meetings. Well, they'd end up going missing anyway.

Cleaning up after him was annoying, why did he have to be so busy? that also playing the piano as he drank wine. Blankly staring at the body in front of you as you clean the floor, muttering curses at him.

It didn't take long but you fell for him, yearning for his touches, but you could never confess, fearing it would ruin your relationship. Your body burning like fire as he kisses you, snapping his hips against you, dress ripped off and discarded on the floor.

“You liked that dress? I'll tell them to make one for you again, money isn't a problem for me.”

Cold slender fingers playing with your nipples as he decorates your neck with bite marks, drawing blood from them. Tongue darting out to lick the blood as he whispers about how sweet you taste to your ears. Your nails digging into his shoulders as your eyes roll back from pleasure, his hands holding your leg up at this point.

Everything was going smoothly until one day he disappeared, without a single word. All the other vampires went crazy over this fact. Some were happy thinking he finally died, some just disappointed that they couldn't be the one killing him.

You returned to Russia after a lot of years, travelling all over the world, everything was different to you, with the years, technology also grew, like for instance, this human was staring into a phone. Bumping into you and not saying a single apology but they had the audacity to curse you instead, calling you blind.

Well, guess you just found yourself dinner, how lucky. Hiding the body with no effort, muttering to yourself “The world would be a little better without people like this.”

You went down an alley, there was a nice bar here, you remembered. Entering it, you took a seat after ordering your favourite drink. From the corner of your eyes, you could see a stranger coming up to you, sitting beside you, “I've never seen you around here, darling, do you need some help? I know a really nice place around here–”

The man went on rambling about nonsense, poor attempts at flirting, and why is he even talking about himself, you don't remember asking. Quietly sipping on your drink as you ignored the stranger. The stranger, though, seemed offended, “Hey I'm talking to you, whore, if you don't want attention, dress up more!”

Now that part really got on your nerves, what were you supposed to wear, a long ass winter jacket? You could just pretend to play along and just kill this guy, not even interested in drinking his blood! But someone else's voice stopped you, a voice too fucking familiar.

It was none other than fyodor, you watched as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you by his side, eyes narrowing at the stranger with a smile, “It's really rude to flirt with someone's lover, don't you think? You'll walk away from here and remember nothing.” The guy on command, got up and left the bar, the people in the surrounding, definitely didn't care.

“You look like you've seen a ghost, Мышка.” He chuckled, as if he just met you yesterday and not decades ago.

“What the fuck? Where the hell were you for all these years!?” You shouted at him, burning a hole into his face with your glare, “Of course I'm surprised, am I not supposed to be when you appear like that? God!”

“Let's discuss it somewhere private, shall we? I know a hotel nearby.” You hated how composed he seemed to be, but still followed him, giving him a chance to explain himself.

“I was a bit hurt, dear, why didn't you tell the man to leave? or were you interested?” He asked while sitting down on the bed.

“Is that what we're talking about? Give me an explanation, fyodor, where the hell were you?”

“A bit busy, don't mind me, I had business that needed to be taken care of.”

“That's it? You could've at least told me a goodbye! or sent letters.”

“Ah, but that would give away my location, wouldn't it? I didn't want any disturbances, but enough about me, where were you? I couldn't find you in my mansion.”

“I was travelling, and I did not see a point in staying there if you weren't there but you really had me worried, you know?” You sighed, sitting beside him.

Well this was supposed to be meeting up with a past ‘friend’. So why did this turn into a fucking session? According to a certain someone, he wanted to make up for his mistakes!

Currently between your thighs, lapping up your folds like he hadn't eaten in years, savouring the taste like it was his favorite meal. He teased your clit with his tongue, gently flicking it, before sucking it into his mouth. Your moans and whines were music to his ear, he could feel you were close, his tongue speeding up to make you cum.

“F-fuck…gonna cum–” You stammered before cumming, lewd slurping sounds filling the room before getting up and kissing you, slipping his tongue in your mouth, making you taste yourself. A string of saliva joining your tongue after he breaks the kiss, he definitely likes seeing you like this— face flushed, hair disheveled, neck decorated by pretty hickeys by him.

You don't remember what round it was, all you can feel is the way he keeps fucking his cum back in your cunt. Sweat glistening on your body as you can't help but let out whimpers due to overstimulation, “T-Too much, fedya…slow down–”

“I'm sure you can cum for me again, my dear.”

He kisses your tear soaked face while rubbing soothing circles on your clit to calm you down. You pull him closer to kiss again, running your hands through his soft hair before he cums in you for the last time and pulls out.

Fyodor runs you a warm bath and then puts you on the bed, climbing in to cuddle with you, well, such a memorable get together isn't it?

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[gh0st-t0wn3]

I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!

Redson: Ver 1

Ver 2

I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!

I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.

I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.

I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.

The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.

As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?

Mei:

I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)

I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.

Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)

(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)

MK:

Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.

I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.

(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)

It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.

I also did MK's clones :)

Porty MK:

I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.

I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.

Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭

Artist MK:

For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).

I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.

Delivery MK:

I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes). 

The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.

[tubbytarchia]

Traffic/Life series roster as dinosaurs

A lot of these don't make for very good hybrids unless you wanna get into freaky territory or full on centaur but... Hope it's a fun scroll nonetheless!

Grian - Novialoidea

A small birdie... The name also means "New wings" which I find fun. New lives and death games to be part of, new wings to accompany him... (Honorable mention to "Shuvuuia" the "desert bird" who unfortunately is not a pterosaur (doesn't fly)) (Yes we're including pterosaurs! Just using "dinosaur" as a conveient blanket term)

Tango - Aratasaurus / Pyroraptor

Fire raptor! Either works just fine and Tango as a skittery little raptor is perfect for a creature like him

Scar - Apatosaurus

"Deceptive Lizard" harkening back to Scar's scamming tendencies. Though I've always liked the idea of him being some larger gentler animal in any hybrid scenario and a long-neck fits the bill well. He can poke his nose into people's conversations easily to start marketing something useless to them and swishes his tail to ward off anyone who's about to stop him

Impulse - Nasutoceratops

Ren - Regaliceratops

Horns. COOL horns. I don't know what else you want from me ceratopses are just way too awesome. Nasutoceratops is a wicked cool dinosaur for having its horns point so forward much like a bull and I for one can jive with some Impulse bull symbolism. Bulls are often viewed as strong, sturdy and loyal, traits also assigned to Impulse a LOT of the time. But though he IS intensely loyal in many cases (+ Ceratopses are also known for how they defend their own!), and he's not very outward about the following traits, he can get quite petty and bitchy and hold grudges. Still, you don't think of that when you look at him and he seems to agree! Eg him feeling like he should be accepted into Cleo's alliance in 3rd life without actually proving himself when Cleo was rightfully hesitant, at which Impulse more or less rolled his eyes. And him proclaiming "betrayal!" when killed by Bdubs when their alliance was as firm as a rat's tail

(And I feel the need to point this out too just in case: "bulls are also known for their temper" yeah but they're not like that! Bulls like many animals become defensive when exposed to aggravating behavior or movement! Which you could work into Impulse's grudge holding and intense loyalty...? I don't know enough about him sorry but do with that what you will)

Regaliceratops! Regal!! Crown shaped frill!!! Need I say more?

Gem - Therizinosaurus

Theris are so bad bitch coated to me and I would love to have one as my wife I mean um I couldn't decide on a less generic specimen so Gem can just be a Theri! A herbivore - often associated with the belief that herbivores are gentle passive creatures, but far from it, especially with Gem! She bares her claws like it's no one's business

Martyn - Stygmoloch

A Pachy with a tough head and a tendency to bonk people - I think it fits Martyn's tendency to perpetuate drama haha. The Stygmoloch's name though more or less translates to "demon of the styx river", the river of the underworld representing loathing of death. To me this makes sense with all the watcher lore (that I have a hard time understanding but whatever!!) especially with how Martyn became in LL. The watchers themselves don't loathe death (??) of course. They're death games. But someone within the game trying to stay alive and win? Probably loathes the idea of themselves dying. I have no clue what Im saying

Pearl - Carnotaurus

Ok maybe a hot take not to make her into a pteradon or even a raptor with wing-like features but those just didn't fit that well in my opinion. Rather I wanted her to have some kind of horn motif in place of her wings as visual symbolism for her character. I'd like to imagine her having fine horns, to then have them damaged (one broken off) and simultaneously the other more grown out. Think of how domesticated goats for example have their horns trimmed. I think human hybrids with horns would do the same to keep them from becoming a bother but Pearl would neglect to after her heartbreak in DL. I was heavily considering the Diabloceratops for this, especially because of the name (Devil horned face - good ostracizing material) but Pearl strikes me a lot more as a carnivore and there are only two horned carnivores out there so... Carnotaurus it is haha. And even now I'm making her horns unrealistically big but.... We can suspend some belief

BigB - Oryctodromeus

"Digging Runner"! I've already talked plenty of why BigB is very rabbit behavior to me and my reasons for assigning this burrowing dinosaur to him are similar. Tldr he is fidgety and cautious yet clever and constantly buries himself underground

Lizzie - Anurognathidae

I don't even fucking know man it made me think of Lizzie and then I wasn't able to assign anything else to her. Lizzie often claims to be confused and if any dinosaur looks to be in a perpetual state of confusion then its this one. I know a lot of people like to portray Lizzie as a butterfly also so there you go, wings!!! And it's quite cat-like too for those who like to draw her as a cat

Mumbo - Leinkupal

I really struggled with Mumbo... So many different dinos fit him imo but I figured it should be at least something moderately large (so "Technosaurus" was out of the question lol). Then I rediscovered this dinosaur whose name translates to "vanishing family" and then I thought about LL and SL and how Mumbo went out quickly after the initial death/s and left a very felt absence in someone's alliance and then I became really emotional and forgot what I was doing

Joel - Nodocephalosaurus

Bdubs - Psittacosaurus

"Knob Headed Lizard"

Joel as an Ankylosaur has been stuck in my head from day one of assigning dinosaurs to the Lifers and I'm frustrated that I can't truly explain why. You'd view an Ankylosaur as a slow and docile creature, even compared to other herbivores, but...

1. Maybe not so much nowadays, I don't know what non-dino nerds think, but I feel like ankylosaurs were largely believed to be HUGE back in the day, much like velociraptors, when in reality they're not that big. The Nodocephalosaurus is especially small even among other ankylosaurs. But, well, we all know what Joel loves to say about himself

2. Joel is or likes to make himself look well in control, just as ankylosaurs have little to worry about as far as predators go. Especially in earlier series where he was content basing mostly by himself. It's always when things get dire and he enters his red life that he becomes very impulsive and erratic like an ankylosaur flipped on its back

3. I know there's a distinction between Traffic Joel and Empires Joel and whatever other Joel but... Even in death games his more charitable traits shine through here and there. He really becomes a dangerous rascal for a large majority of the time and he's very good at it, he's not putting on a mask or anything, but I like to remember that underneath that tough spiky armor is gentleness and caring. His care towards Lizzie and Pearl and Etho etc etc

4. The image of Joel as a hell of a spiky creature is just really fun to me. Yet heavy and blunt ones! And someone once proposed the idea of him having a club tail but having chiselled it to be sharp to mirror him being a menace. (Added benefit also that it's lighter that way haha) To me he's always been an obvious heavy hitter rather than stealthy or particularly creative etc. Him as a carnivore just doesn't work as well for me

The name bares no fitting meaning but when I look at Bdubs I think of Psittaco. All other species close to it in looks are already ceratopsians and we have like... 3 of those already lol. Im sorry Bdubs you look so stupid

Cleo - Lythronax

There's so few predators in this roster lol oops, but Cleo deserves to be an apex one! The name translates to "Gore King" because you know, zombies... and you know, Cleo is very king so true. If any of the Lifers should be able to boast rows of razor sharp teeth to gore others it should be ZombieCleo

Scott - Theiophytalia

I've been really struggling with Scott but how about the dinosaur whose name translates to "Belonging to the garden of Gods". There's only one known specimen of this species and it's an Iguanadon looking dinosaur which I think a lot of people would regard as the most basic, possibly boring type of dinosaur (if it weren't for the Allosaurus which already takes the title of "basic straight white guy") but that further fits Scott imo. It's always been a strong point of appeal to me how MUCH there is to his character that so often goes under the radar or unexplored, and how he's very often portrayed as just some handsome looking guy as opposed to a hybrid etc. He's not at all extravagant yet has mastered his craft of bending fate in his favor, he so often has things perfectly under his control just as he wants them, etc... reflective of the name "Theiophytalia" even if you wouldn't think such a dinosaur to sport one of the most prolific names a dinosaur can have. Also garden something something flower husbans. Basically whatever Bree's take on Scott is lol. I don't wanna blab for 5 paragraphs about that blue mf here but. I hope this makes sense

Jimmy - Yinlong

I struggled with this mf the most because he's another very hashtag deep character. I felt really bad to remove his bird motifs completely because the canary is so essential to him, but a raptor nor a pteradon fit my image of him at all. I spent so much time looking into various species but it just aint it, but Yinlong was possibly quilled and we can still cover him in feathers, even if he has nothing close to wings haha... BUT ANYWAY. Yinlong is a small kind of pathetic looking dinosaur, and Jimmy definitely isn't small but he'd sure be made to feel that way. Yinlong translates to "Hidden Dragon" however, a rather thought-provoking name for such a dinosaur. Given his character, it sure does feel like there's a soul of a dragon laying dormant somewhere in him, buried by all the self deprecation and curse labels. Honorable mention to Tianyulong, a very similar dinosaur who was named after a museum, but "Tianyu" also translates to peace and content. Something that Jimmy can't yet but deserves to be

Etho - undefined raptor

Already made a loong post about raptor Etho haha which I assume yall have seen since the support towards that post is the only reason I'm even making this post

Skizz - Olorotitan

"Titanic Swan" close enough to an angel right. I feel the whole angel thing is a bit overdone when Skizz can become a malicious little creature every now and then, but swans much like angels do get viewed as beautiful and taken as symbolism of love. Much like Skizz is largely viewed as an angel and often as someone who can do no wrong. But mostly I wanted Skizz to be a hadrosaur/duck-billed dinosaur, because those are dinosaurs known for their speculated vocalizations. And what is Skizz good at? Talking and voicing his love and appreciation? Yeah? Yeah... I'm so sorry Skizz btw this hybrid idea does not work out

Again, a lot of these don't work so well as hybrids... Some like the long-neck ones I cant imagine to have more than a spiky spine back and a tail, but! These picks aren't based on hybrid potential but rather what I think genuinely fits. I did really work on this all day looking through a bunch of dinosaurs and research haha, but I do love dinosaurs a lot... If you disagree with any hey thats cool! Feel free to give me your opinions if you've any and I hope this was fun to scroll through regardless

[kurokawaia]

❛ The Balance ❜ ─ 05

Yandere!JugramHaschwalth X Fem!Quincy!Reader

WC; 3.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, she/her pronouns, running away, kidnapping, marriage, no abortion, going through with the pregnancy

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: Yandere!Jugram kidnaps the reader with the help of the Bambies. {Y/n} becomes pregnant with his child but wants to abort due to the circumstances, trying to keep it a secret. Jugram finds out, becomes furious, insisting on a marriage (coerced). She escapes to the human world, but Jugram tracks her down, discovers her plan to abort the child, and forcibly takes her back.

part 3 | part 4 | part 5- m.list | bleach m.list

Jugram had a tight hold of your arm, fingers nipping into your skin as he pulled your out of infirmary. The blood whooshed with each frantic pulse as your heart thumped ominously in your chest. With all your might, you pulled away. Jugram was immovable, and you were forced into an odd trot through resplendent halls.

"Please, Jugram—" you begged, your voice again trembling with a fault almost unseen in you. "I have to stay here. I just can't go back to that room. Not now."

His eyes were as cold as ice, as if he denied every word you were saying, yet his body language couldn't be more decided. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, his eye remaining focused ahead, lips out in firm line, and his strides ate up the distance toward the shared room. "You're mine. You need to know and understand that," was the last growl he concluded with.

You fought harder against his hold as your protests grew more frantic.

"No, stop! I don't want to go back there. Please, just listen to me!" you plead.

Suddenly, he stopped at the door to the room, wrenching to a halt just in front of it. There was a dark, threatened look to his eyes, and his eyes were hard and cold as he flung the door open.

He ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You paused, turning back to me just then, a look of fear and rebelliousness in your eyes. "I'm not going in there," you said, with a tremulous but determined voice.

And then it happened: the complete snap from Jugram. His hand locked onto me like a vice before throwing me inside. I tripped, falling head first into the floor with a very solid thud. Before I could rise back up, Jugram was descending onto me, his eyes alight with the glare of an incredibly rabid, yandere madman.

"Do you think you can defy me?" It growled, his voice dark, his voice like some planet. "You think you stand a chance?"

You scrambled to your feet, backing away but Jugram, as feral as a cat, advanced after you. His calloused hand closed around your arm, tight, his fingers so tight they bruised as he drew you closer. "I won't tolerate disobedience," he said, the rage in his voice twisted, getting possessive. "You are mine, you will be with me, and you will accept what I've chosen for you."

Your pulse quickened feverishly under the heated gaze that Jugram gave you. But his eyes didn't soften one bit; his grip on you, so achingly tight, remained. "One learns to accept things," he said in a whisper that promised nothing good, "because you are going to be my wife and the mother of my child, and there is no escaping that."

That had tears streaming down your face, eyes trying to wrench free from his hold. "Please," was all you could shudder out. "I can't do this. I don't want to."

Jugram's eyes narrowed, expression cooling. "That is not for you to decide," he grumbled back. "I made the decision and you were to follow. There are no alternatives."

A final push—almost tender but hard—brought you further into the room. He never broke eye contact with you. "Stay where you are," he demanded, the tone of a man that doesn't expect his word to be questioned. "And remember—you're mine. You'll do as I order or face the consequences."

You sank to the floor, and as his long strides carried him out the door, your body started shaking with fear and anger. This was for real, and the thought of Jugram's possessive control really did take you to a whole new level of entrapment and helplessness.

You stumbled to the bed, your emotions getting the best of you, and crumbled down into the plush blankets. Jugram's possession and control felt too suffocating, and you broke the tears that you had been holding back. You buried your face in the underlayer of fabric and cried your heart out.

Hours seeped away, and you cried, cried until each tear washed away fears, frustrations, helplessness. The walls inside this room pressed closer around you, for you could not reconcile yourself and your existence with your circumstances, breathing in the sound of your sobs reverberated upon the ornate walls.

As if on cue, to the second that your tears mattered to be gone, the door opened creakily and Jugram entered the room. It was as though his very visage changed - his severity melted away to something just short of gentle, near tender. Jugram took measured careful steps as he came towards the bed and gazed at your tear-streaked face with what seemed concern in his eyes.

Wordlessly, he sat down beside you on the bed and first reached one arm around your back, pulling you into him, cradled against his chest. His touch was terribly gentle; his hand ran itself carefully over your hair in a calming, even rhythm.

Jugram mumbled across the top of your head, the baritone of his voice low and almost soothing in a manner that was pleasurable. "It's okay. I'm here now."

You could feel his warmth against you, but even though he held you with force, it strangely felt secure. Jugram's voice was soft, and he almost sounded tender as he continued to murmur softly against your ear, trying to hush your sobs. "I'm sorry for what I did," he said with an odd sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I did it because I love you."

He stopped, his fingers lightly tracing the bruises on your arm. "I've been rough; I know, baby, but then that's just because I do feel so deeply about you. Because I want nothing but the best for our future, because I want you to be mine and be with me, and I'm going to make it happen."

His words were soothingly unnerving, speaking to you of his control over you and his wretched sense of love; you could really feel the sincerity behind those words, but it came out with a sense of possessiveness that was hard to overlook.

Jugram pulled you closer, so close that he could wrap his arms protectively around you. "Please, don't cry," he whispered, arms holding you so tightly in your chest—the sound a warm breath in your ear. "We will cope with this together. You are safe with me. All you need to do is trust me."

Very, very gradually, as the heat of his body and his very substance filtered into your frazzled nerves, Jugram's tight hold on you began to relax. You had been utter worn-out from hours of crying, and the toll of those tears from earlier in the day had started to drop like a heavy weight atop your shoulder. Your sobs had dropped down to soft, ragged breaths as sleep began to tug you under.

Jugram felt the change in your mood and took the liberty to slightly cradle you closer, almost in an almost gentle, possessive manner. His digits skimmed through your hair, brushing down to your head, inching closer. His lips only touched your temple as he leaned down closer to talk to you.

"You are my everything," he whispered, singing in his tenor, making it hushed, almost hypnotic. "No one will ever have you. You are meant to be with me; you are meant to be mine. My good girl."

He put such a tender kiss on your forehead that his eyes were so dark with obsessive adoration. "I know now it hurts, but you'll see: whatever I am going to do, I'm going to do for us, for our future. I will save you, I will make you safe, and let nobody interfere with us."

He mumbled as you slipped off to sleep, his words a lulling assertion with the occasional obsessional oath. He spoke softly, his breath warm against your ear, "We'll be a family. Just you and me and our child. We'll make a perfect world, one where you can never leave me".

He tightened the hand holding her. As if he wanted to enforce this. "I will always be here," he swears with the fervor of a zealot, his voice transmuting into hoarse passion at the zenith. "You are mine, and nothing…" his breathless voice lowered tremulously, "will ever change that. If it's the last thing I do, I'll see to it you're happy, even though I have to chain you to me to do it, to keep you wrapped safe from the world."

Jugram's eyes lingered a mere moment on you with such a mix of tenderness and a more shadowy, possessive gleam that shone from the depths of his gaze. "My little one," he murmured, palming his hand tenderly against your back. "I may have only the smallest portion of strength left, but as long as you rest here between my arms, we will manage to move forward together."

You woke up the next morning to the gentle strokes of the early morning sun through thick draperies—soft as dawn itself, hardly able to remember the hulking, black, overwhelming hell you'd been living in. As you awoke, Jugram was not there next to you. And there he lay, an empty space, with a longing sweeping through you.

With the realization that this might just be your one time to get it right, you briskly pushed yourself off the bed. Gathering some courage, you moved stealthily through the room, making sure you didn't make any noise because of those creaking floorboards.

Each echo held even more magnitude after having been repeated at every turn, each extension of breath in the shallow gasps that had brought you in this hurry, your mind assailed by what needed to be done, to ensure that you were free. Grand halls that had once seemed imposing were now amazing with a labyrinth, the place in which one had to now navigate.

"What?" Bazz B almost ran into you as you turned the corner. The border crosser momentarily gave a look of alarm at your appearance before righting himself, before the end of his expression spun into cold, calculated calm.

"Hey," Bazz B replied. He was low in tone, holding steady. "What are you doing out here?"

You hesitated, your eyes flickering between him and the corridor that lay behind. "I… I need to get out," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the fear gripping you. "I need to leave this place."

Bazz B narrowed his eyes to slits but gave a nod of understanding. "I can help you," he said with an almost fallacious tone of reassurance. "But you need to come with me. I'll get you out of here, but you have to come with me now."

You peered over at him warily, with still doubt perhaps present in your mind. "Really? You really won't tell Jugram?"

Bazz B's smile was tight, yet he held confidence in his decision. "I ain't sayin' nothin'. You got my word on that."

You nodded, though it was begrudgingly, and you set off after him, down the palace corridors. Adrenaline pounded through your chest, throbbing excitement but fear, mostly fear of being caught. Bazz B led you through a network of hidden passages, around the main quarters of the palace.

Very soon, you found yourself in a secluded room, empty of the royal grandeur, except for the rest of the palace. Bazz B's face went deadly serious with his preparations for the next process in your escape. "That's about as close as I can get you," he said, the next time from his coat pocket. "I'll get you right to the human world; you'd best remember you owe me this one, girl.".

Bazz B gave a job activation to the device. The room shimmered and twisted as if filled with a strange kind of energy. Eyes clamped shut, breath held, the world seemed to blur and shift.

And then you open your eyes to be standing in a complete different place, altogether different world, altogether teeming with familiar sounds and sights of humanity. You breathe the refreshing air of the city, trying to bring a tangible sense of relief and a small measure of freedom.

The voice sounded so loud in your ears, it could take over even the dull resonances of Bazz B's scream. ** "You're on your own now. Good luck."

Long strides determinedly taking him back into the palace, Bazz B. swept fast, his mind keeping pace with what that meant. He seemed to storm through the grand halls with purpose on his way to where Jugram resided in the palace.

Standing at the doorway, he took a deep breath before he knocked sharply. Jugram had already been in foul humor from how the events of the evening had turned out and called out low and impatient.

Bazz B exploded in the room, his expression schooled carefully to one of neutrality. Jugram sat behind his immense desk, eyes sharp to focus upon his visitor. "What's the matter?" his clipped voice echoes, sharp with suspicion.

Bazz B tones it down, takes a step closer, and sets eyes that meet Jugram's into what is almost a smirk. "I have news. She's in the human world."

Jugram's eyes narrowed, the calm of his features wavering for a fraction of a second, and "What did you just say?" came the dangerously soft contrary to the storm that was visibly brewing behind those eyes.

"Just as I said," cut in Bazz B as smooth as could, speaking. "She's managed to escape to the human world."

Jugram's fists curled so tightly that his fingers turned rigid, the knuckles white, and "Why would you allow this? Explain yourself."

Bazz B didn't even flinch, except for a flicker of humor across his eyes. "That was just a game," he assured, with a boast of nonchalance. "I figured it might be fun to see how she'd react with my position, and you know as much as I do: she can't really get away from you."

Maybe he just donned a guise of calm over the raging fury within, but Jugram's eyes turned the colour of polished steel. "Are you suggesting that this was just a ruse?"

And Bazz B nodded his head, his gaze locking onto Jugram's. "Right. More than a farce. I was just trying shit with her. But now she's out there; best be finding her before she starts sniffing too deeply."

His anger smoldered, but he kept his voice mild. "Very well. I will attend to her personally."

He sprang to his feet, with bright danger dancing in his eyes, and voiced the challenge. "Have things prepared for my absence. I will manage my way to find her yet, and make her realize in no uncertain terms exactly where her place is."

Bazz-B simply tipped his head fractionally to one side, that grin growing infuriatingly smug when he caught the flicker it caused in Jugram's own eyes. Well, it was always going to be touch and go, this situation on the brink, given the very nature of Jugram's obsession.

That hold shifting as Jugram squirmed from it, Bazz B rose and expanded before returning to his usual stride from the room, now having nothing on his mind other than the game. Then he leaned back just a bit further, and the faintest most content smile played at his lips. He knew Jugram's pursuit would be fanatic but, far from a game over, the match was only getting started.

Sunlight in the human world; a relief from the gloom that choked the palace. You staggered through the busy streets, the noisy city life an odd reminder of the liberty that had just been dangled in your face. Your heart was still beating with the remnants of leftover adrenaline from your escape, but a sliver of hope began to pierce through the fear that had gripped you for so long.

Wandering through an unknown cityscape, towering buildings over your head, people running from left to right from everywhere, every step liberating and exhausting at the same time. However, you wanted to find some help for yourself, looking for a hospital to get some medical care for you. The fact of your pregnancy and the urgency of your situation kept you moving forward, though uncertainty surrounded you.

You finally noticed a small café tucked away at one corner of the street. There was something about the whole setup that invited you, and you rushed inside frantically, really in need of help. The warmth inside was really contrasting to the icy coldness of the world outside. You went up to the counter where a young woman with a friendly smile addressed you.

"I am sorry," you said, with a tremor in your voice, "I need help; I am looking for a hospital. Can you tell me where it is?"

The woman's eyes widened with concern as her gaze took in the expression of horror etched on your features. "I can call a cab for you; a hospital is a few blocks ahead from here."

The first syllable—so soon, before she got any farther—a cold presence entered the room, and she looked up to find Jugram in the doorway, his face furious.

The woman's voice faltered as she noticed Jugram. "Who—"

Before another word could be dragged from him, Jugram surged up to his feet, a movement that spelled death. The air crackled with his presence, sleek, dark arms unfolding from under his coat. He brought the woman brutally into line with one blow that lacked mercy and brought laughter to a sharp stop. The body crumpled at his feet, and a shocked silence descended.

You were rooted to the ground, horror taking you fully. Jugram's eyes held you with a fiery look that sent your heart slamming hard in your chest. You were so frightened about what he might do next.

"No!" you cried, voice breaking. "Please, don't!"

Came forward towards you like a hunter, Jugram. "Did you think to sneak off so easily?" he asked; his voice was low and threatening. "You were mine, and you have nowhere to run."

Desperation lent you both strength and speed to turn and run, but he was quicker; his long, easily devoured strides ate the distance between you with apparent ease. He caught your arm in an iron grip, jerking you back toward him so hard it nearly knocked you off your balance. Your futile struggles were nothing against his impossible strength.

"No, let me go!" You wailed, tears streaming down your face. "Please, I don't want this!"

His look was cold, pitiless. "You are coming with me," he almost bluntly said, thereby filling all room for either words or refusal to talk.

You had tried to struggle, of course, but Jugram didn't give an inch. Outside, he pushed you against the wall of the café, where the lifeless body of the woman was still lying on the floor. A grim reminder; a high price for standing in his way.

You are brought back into the palace, its awe now hauntingly familiar beyond the rise of fear. The very grandeur that had once overawed you now felt like a gilded cage, the sense of entrapment ever heightened with each passing day. It was a life that felt both suffocating and inescapable; Jugram's relentless pursuit of control had come to fruition.

The walls would laugh with echoes, of your child's sounds, small footsteps that would be running all over the marble floors. Those cold hallways were softened by your whirling dervish of a child—that spirited toddler with a mop of soft hair over questioning eyes.

Jugram had clung to that illusion of a perfect family, had kept you and your child close to him, irrefutable proof of his power and control. For him, you were the trophy wife—the reason he had to keep a leash on himself, no matter what it did to you.

The days turned into the perfect but monotonous routine that you tried to keep up with in the palace to take care of your son and husband. An escape of dull shades from the once beautiful dream, from realization you are now living with the growing weight of your expectant second pregnancy.

Every single glance and every single touch from Jugram acted to remind him of the wearisome obsession that plagued his life—it was so manifestly normal yet completely tensioned with manipulation. Jugram always felt like a shadow, his undercurrents having to keep his feet always in your presence, reminding yourself of the power he held to your life.

One evening you sat laying out the nursery; you would soon be having your second baby. Jugram walked into the room. His eyes roving with every single move you made, showing critical satisfaction and a tone of possessiveness. He eyed you with something like passion, and the force of his stare was enough to make shivers of unease creep under your skin. The juxtaposition of Jugram's coldness of demeanor and the cham accents with the pastel nursery made an already-tenuous situation feel even more so.

"How's my good wife doing then?" he asked; even his voice felt terribly wrong, with just a shade of warmth and a lot of very direct control. He approached you deeply, and you felt the large hand go down to the slightly round belly. "And how is our little one doing?"

With an effort you smiled, and hollow it definitely was. "We're both doing fine," you said, and your voice was steady despite the storm inside.

Jugram's eyes softened just a hair, but the rest of his gaze lost no potency as he continued to bore into you with the fierce intensity, "I demand only the greatest from you," he told you, his voice steady but chillingly calm. "The appearance of perfection in our family. You do recognize this, do you not?"

You only nodded in resignation; there was no way to run away from what Jugram thought of you or from the existing circumstances. The palace was your imprisonment, and you were tied down by its chains of obsession.

As you turned away from the crib, about to withdraw, Jugram reached out and gently cupped your face—his touch achingly soft. "Remember, whatever happens, you are mine," he told you, not looking away. "Our family, our future—it's all connected. You and our children are my greatest accomplishments."

Certainly, something about the words- both gentle and forceful-had escaped notice. Entombed, indeed, felt you, though then it was a fate you had learned to accept; if enforced, to a degree, at least Jugram's will was not something that could change on a whim. The palace was a gilded cage; and you inside it, bound, lived a life composed of opulence and constraint, forever under his watchful gaze.

This was a beautiful, dark palace—the symbol of Jugram's clutching control and your inescapable fate.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | bleach m.list

taglist :: @jugramswifeyyy

[thegnomelord]

I love your monster au so much. It makes the monsterlover/fucker in me real happy. Sorry just wanted to share my appreciation.

I've been thinking too, how would you feel about writing a underwater sea creature reader? (No pressure but I hope this idea tickles your fancy so I'll infodump my ideas on you) They can live on land and stuff but drag their prospective mate into a deep underwater ravine when they want to mate. Idk how to describe it, like I have an idea in my head of what the creature's traits would be but I can't find a way to put it into words.

I'm going to give it a try though, (excuse the fact it won't make much sense, my thoughts jump around a lot. But I'll try and make it coherent.) Basically, my mind went to underwater dragons. So with most of the traits that you wrote for dragons, like the purring and the tails intertwining (and the sharing of scales). But I was thinking without wings, because you don't need them underwater. But we glow in the dark, because we are deepsea creatures we have adapted to become bioluminescent. Oh and also we have gills and stuff still when we are on land.

Idk if this is confusing or just something you don't want to write but I was hoping for you to include a more sfw part with the mating dance maybe and then then an actual nsfw part (dom top male reader??)

But at the end of the day this is just a suggestion and it's up to you if you want to write it or not. (If you do write it can it be with ghost or gaz?? gaz giving us shiny things but sea related, like shells? and/or ghost struggling through knowing how to court us. Both of them being confused of what to do because we are a new type of dragon that not many people knew existed and our courting traditions are mostly unknown??

Okay this is cool and it tickles my brain of having just this big fucking monster that's gigantic due to deep sea gigantism :D, I also picked Gaz cause I like the sea/sky duality.

CW:NSFW, subbot gaz, domtop Mreader, quick and rough

When you first joined the taskforce, Gaz didn't know what to expect. Your species had been newly discovered, barely any information about you, but something about you put some ancient part of his mind on edge, ants nipping on the sinew of his wings until his body begged to return to the safety of the sky.

First time he met you, you reminded him less of a dragon and more of a Leviathan — something that dwelled where the light didn't reach, far too big than anything should be allowed to be, bright bioluminescent markings shimmering against dark scales to lure prey into crushing jaws filled with sharp crooked teeth, horns like spears to pin down what couldn't fit in your maw, powerful legs built to swim and breach the surface of the water to catch unaware flyers like Gaz just to pull them down into the abyss to be devoured.

He would have been more. . . unsettled by you had you not been so nice.

You towered over him even in your mostly human form, but you were a gentle giant, happy to let him use you as a perch and humming along as he talks, joining in on his and Johnny's pranks and hiding them when Price eventually catches them.

And Gaz doesn't even notice when your presence no longer makes his feathers puff up, the shadow you cast over him now warm and welcoming after all the times you'd been a meat shield for him. He tils his head back to catch sight of your eyes as he leans back, soft feathers rubbing against your clothes, "Hey there big man." Gaz smiled.

You hum, your hand coming to loosely hold his hip, holding the pretty thing close to you. "Hi." You purr, the small biolights along your body flickering in seemingly random patterns, but nothing about them was random to you or your kin, your interest in him painfully obvious.

But to your dismay Gaz doesn't understand, just snorts at your colorful display. "What's got you in a good mood today?" He asks, eyes tracing the dancing lights, that instinctual bird part of his mind liking the sight, and the low rumble of your voice, and just. . . being near you.

You blink, "You," You say simply, your people aren't ones to mince words.

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your declaration, feathers puffing up, but strikes down any thoughts about you before they turn inappropriate and cause him to coo at you. "Fine, keep yer secrets." He huffs and gets out of your hold, wings stretching out to purposely show off his feathers as he walks away, tail feathers flickering.

He can feel your eyes follow after him, hummingbirds pecking at his spine and he doesn't know if he should feel that way. And all you can think of is how you could drag your pretty bird down into the abyss without clipping his wings.

. . .

Gaz watches you lazily swim around the lake near their current base in your real form, "Havin' a nice soak in there Nessie?" He asks as he walks the short pier and sits down, dipping his feet in the water as his wings spread out lazily behind him.

A low rumble leaves you like a distorted whale song, your large form pushing through the water like a submarine cutting through the ice. "Nessie?" You ask as swim over to him, "Who's that?"

"Never mind about that," Kyle grins, his eyes roaming along your large form as the biolights flicker once again in that specific pattern that means nothing to him but everything to you. "You look happy."

You shrug, "It's nice to be back in the water." Without a word you heave yourself out of the water and onto the pier, large hands clutching the wood on either side of him, a deep purr rumbling in your chest at how close he is to you now. "Did you need something?" You ask, biolights flickering seductively.

Kyle swallows drily, eyes going wide as he registers you loom over him, can smell the sea and salt still clinging to your scales, something other than fear buzzing down his spine from how close your dangerous teeth are to him. "Oh, right, uh," He clears his throat to clear the molasses clinging to it, wings spreading out in a way that got his feathers shining in the setting sun as he reached into his pocket.

"I, um. . . I got you this." He said, holding out the seashell he'd found for you. His breath caught in his throat as you looked at it, hoping you liked it; he'd spent hours polishing it until it was shining, the colors vibrant and every single scratch buffed out.

"Thank you," You rumbled and took the seashell into your hand. Your pupils dilated, a very pleased purr rumbling in your chest — oh, he was so thoughtful, such a good mate to bring a rare treat for you.

Kyle felt like a bloody peacock at the way his wings spread out, but he couldn't care less about his posturing when you accepted his gift, his heart fluttering like butterflies in a jar.

Then you ate it.

You ate his gift.

His heart shatters like the seashell between your fangs, wings dropping like a rock, never having expected to be rejected like that. "I- what- why did- if you-" He couldn't even form words to say what he wanted, pressing a hand to his face in an attempt to hide the way his eyes prickled with vestiges of tears.

Unfortunately for him, you notice. "Oh, little bird, what's wrong?" Your voice is soothing, biolights pulsing in a slow and calming way as you gently pry his hand from his face, looking into his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Kyle doesn't look you in the eyes, doesn't know what the hell to feel right now, the words spewing out of his mouth before he could control them. "Why would you do that!" He hisses.

You tilt your head. "You gifted it to me." You say like it's supposed to explain everything, reaching up to cup his cheek, your clawed hand cold and wet against his skin. "It was very good." You lean in closer, a deep purr rumbling in your throat, your long tail moving to curl around his leg.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as you push you loom over him your hands on either sides of him keeping him in place, feeling himself slowly lay back as you creep over him onto the pier, heart drumming in his chest. "Wh-what?"

You snort, eyes glowing like anglerfish lures, lowering your head down to lick a stripe up his neck, claws raking down his front. "Let me show you my appreciation, yes?"

Kyle shivers at the sensation of your teeth against his throat, body heating up, your scent — of sea and salt and something very very old — invading his nose, an involuntary chirp escaping his chest. "Ah, yeah, sure just-" Kyle yelps as your claws cut through his clothes, wings quivering as they're pressed against the wooden pier behind him.

"Relax little bird," You coo softly, licking around his lips in what counts as a kiss for you when your maw is filled with vicious teeth, tongue trailing down to lick up the drops of his salty sweat. "I'll be gentle."

And gentle you are; softly licking up the blood after your fangs had left marks on his skin, sharp claws holding his trembling hips tenderly as your rough tongue worms inside him, soft purrs and deep rumbles vibrating your tongue against his prostate until he's sobbing, his hands clutching your horns to hold your head closer as his cock leaks a puddle of pre onto his abdomen.

He whines when you continue stretching him with your tongue, "Please, mate, just-" Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue once again grazes his prostate, thighs clenching around your head. "-just please fuck me already! I can't- I'm not going to-"

Kyle sobs with joy and anguish when you pull your tongue out, the slimy appendage slithering back into your maw and leaving him painfully empty. "Alright, alright," You coo, moving up to drape your body over his, nuzzling your cheek against his as you line your hard cock with his stretched hole. "Relax,"

The tip of your cock breaching his puckered hole has Kyle sucking in a sharp breath, "Easier said than done mate," He chuckles, closing his eyes and just trying to focus on your scent and just you, groaning. Fuck, you're big in all aspects, his body clenching down like a vice before relaxing enough for you to slowly push further, spreading his walls wide until you're fully inside him, your hips resting against his.

"There you go," You purr, letting Kyle adjust as you nibble on his neck, biolights flickering happily when he rocks his hips into yours. "Taking me so well,"

Gaz can feel his body heat up at your words, throwing his head back when you rock your hips, cock hard and heavy inside him, dragging against his walls with every minute movement that has him panting and whining, his legs crossing behind your back to pull your hips closer every time you pull out.

The world escapes your notice, all your attention fully on him as you focus on mating him, pulling needy desperate sounds from Kyle's lips, your large hand gently stroking his leaking dick as your cock rubs against his prostate, your unhurried pace making him cum again and again and again until he's a moaning boneless mess by the time you cum inside him.

[local-lamppost]

Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

[cosmerelists]

Did I Achieve my Earnest Hopes & Dreams for Wind and Truth?

The night before Wind and Truth came out, I wrote up a list of things I was hoping to have happen (or not happen) in that book. Now that it's a month later and I've finished it, how much of what I wanted did I get?

[Obviously, big big spoilers for Wind & Truth!]

Kaladin lives. WELL... He is...alive. Immortal, really. But all of his friends think he's dead, since he left his body behind when he became a Herald. He did not get to meet with up Adolin & Shallan for drinks like he promised. That's more what I was hoping for...but I'll take this. He IS alive.

Kaladin lives and is happy. WELL... I actually think he's...somewhat happy? He swore the Fifth Ideal. He's with Syl. He's in a Tranquil Mind Palace giving therapy to the Heralds. It does seem like it might get a bit...lonely? But it did not end with him broken or anything like that, so again...I'll take this. He's not unhappy.

There's a really cool Kaladin fight. Maybe two. Honestly, I think we had a sad lack of cool Kaladin fights. I understand that this book was all about Kaladin figuring out who he is without the spear, and I respect that...but I did miss there being some kind of Grand Kaladin Entrance After Which He Kicks Serious Butt. The only fight we got was him vs. Nale, which was...okay, but was solved ultimately via Flute and Therapy and not Cool Fighting Moves. I'm a somewhat simple soul. I missed having Cool Fighting Moves.

Kaladin & Szeth have to fight someone together. Not really. :( Not in the "back-to-back facing off against a hundred foes" that I was picturing, at least.

Leshwi has a significant role. Leshwi was there, but mostly walking and complaining about having to walk now. Again, I was hoping for more Cool Fighting Leshwi, which we didn't get, but I did like that we at least got some scenes with her.

There's a really cool Leshwi fight. Sadly, not so much. Her small amount of fighting was off-screen.

Adolin is NOT Odium's champion. He sure wasn't!

Adolin lives. He did! I think the Adolin story was one of my favorites, to be honest. Him becoming Unoathed was so cool.

Shallan lives (I'm not super worried about her for whatever reason but I couldn't just include two of the three, you know?) She did! ...Although trapped in Shadesmar but NOT able to world jump, which feels like the worst of both worlds. As soon as she got trapped I was like "Hell yeah Shallan worldhopper," but it doesn't seem like it's going that way, unfortunately.

Rlain & Renarin romance. Hell yeah! The Rlain & Renarin romance throughout this was super cute.

Rlain & Renarin romance that isn't like tragic or awkward or anything. I request warm & fuzzy plz. Yes! I like that it wasn't super angsty or anything. They both realized that they liked each other pretty quickly and then just kept making eyes at each other.

Shallan & Thaidakar meet. Well, they TALKED, so I'll take that!

MeLaan cameo. Well, as @archmage236 pointed out at the time, this was impossible since Mistborn Era 2 is after Stormlight. And there were no time travel shenanigans either. We DID get a kandra...but it was Ulaam, and not a cool kandra spy reveal.

...I notice the MeLaan cameo. I didn't but I'm pretty sure it's not my bad this time.

Rock returns or at least is in the book somehow. There was NO Rock! I was genuinely sad about that.

Kaladin hits his head on a doorframe in Shinovar. But not as sad as I was about Kaladin not bonking his head on ANYTHING. A tragic missed opportunity.

Navani invents something cool. You know...I don't think she did, unless you count the weird cocoon thing at the end. But she did figure out how to navigate through the Spiritual Realm, which was a cool Navani Science Moment so I'm counting it.

Navani thinks about Raboniel. I think maybe briefly?

We get the third Bondsmith. We did not! And now that Honor is (actually) dead, I feel like we won't? That's too bad, honestly.

The third Bondsmith isn't human. I suppose technically I got my wish here, yeah.

We find out that there are more than five Radiant oaths (pet theory that I want to be right about) Well I'm not right YET, but...come on! Honor even said he hates the number 5! How could that be the number of oaths?? It just doesn't make sense. It would be like there only being 11 metals or something.

Hemalurgy gets used.....I know that would be bad but I think it would be interesting. Hell yeah. It didn't have a huge role but I was actually delighted that Moash got Marshed.

Hemalurgy doesn't get used on anyone I care about!! I mean...I do care about Moash but I think he was a good choice for this. Future Herald Kaladin vs. Hemalurgic Moash battle, one assumes?

Shallan doesn't incorporate Radiant. :(

Maya cure. Yeah, like I said, I thought Adolin's arc--and by extension, Maya and the other Deadeyes' arc--was great! Maya was so butch and I love what she created with Adolin.

The theory that Shallan's mother was a Herald is confirmed. I think it's a cool theory. Oh wow was it ever! The chills I got when Shallan said, "She was at my wedding."

Bondsmith powers used for a fight. I think it would be cool. Sadly, no. We never really did get to see how they'd be used in combat.

Satisfying Sanderlanche. I don't think it was the Greatest Sanderlanche of All Time or anything, but I was fully captivated (and yes, the biggest downside for me was that it was more Emotions and Philosophy than Cool Fights with Swords. I'm a simple woman).

Kaladin meets a sheep. Or a dog. Or BOTH. I CAN'T BELIEVE SANDERSON CANONIZED NO DOGS AT ALL. Tragic. A true blow. And Kaladin only saw sheep from a distance.

I don't cry too hard... I actually did not. I teared up at actually two parts: when Maya came with all of the Deadeyes and when Kaladin decided to take Szeth's place as the Herald. (But honestly, I don't cry at books very often, so maybe that's on me.)

[fickleminder]

be good

AU inspired by this prompt: Humans are born with demon counterparts to protect them. The more innocent and pure a person is, the more mean, fierce, and terrifying their demon becomes.

Halloween 2023 fic 😈

It’s one of the things your parents often told you when you were growing up.

"Behave yourself."

"They won’t hurt you if you’re good."

"Say please and thank you."

"It’s okay, they’re your best friend."

"Mind your manners."

"You can always rely on them to protect you."

"Be good, now."

You’ve had multiple shadows for as long as you could remember. No one else could see them; a person’s demon was their own after all, but you quickly realized that everybody around you only had the one. Any attempts to convince your family otherwise only led them to believe yours was a shapeshifter.

But one demon or seven, they never laid a finger on you. Sometimes they kept their distance, watching over you from afar; other times they stayed within arm’s reach, readily accepting your touch should your curiosity win out. You soon became accustomed to the chilly air around them, their cool skin a familiar comfort on days when you just needed a hug.

They were brothers too, despite not looking anything alike. You talked to them of course, wanting to know more about your protectors friends, where they came from, what they did to pass the time when they weren’t watching you. The oldest one told you that they weren't like the other demons; they were more important, had other roles to fulfill and duties to tend to, which was why they had to take turns looking after you.

"I'm sorry for being a bother," five-year-old you said. You'd been left alone more often than not, your father having passed away recently while your mother worked extra jobs to keep the both of you fed. She never neglected you when she was home, but you still felt like a burden to her.

"You're not a bother," the oldest one — Lucifer — chided you gently. "Your mother loves you, and so do we. Never forget that, understand?"

You gripped his pant leg and nodded into his thigh, only relaxing when a gloved hand reached down to stroke your hair.

.

.

.

The wind howled outside your window and rattled the panes. Cloudy skies covered the moon, casting your room into inky blackness as you huddled under the blankets and shivered, eyes wide open and unable to sleep.

Everything seemed louder in the dark: the shrieking gusts, the creaky old floorboards, the scuttles in the walls, the scratching and rustling behind your closet door—

"It's way past your bedtime, you know."

The voice came out of nowhere, but all you felt was a sharp sense of relief knowing that you weren't alone tonight. "I'm scared," you whispered to it, clutching the sheets tighter against your body. "Can you check the closet for monsters, please?"

One of the shadows in the room seemed to grow and stretch, moving lazily towards the closet in question. You didn't dare to peek over the blankets, but you heard the door open and close as the faint noises from within fell blessedly silent.

"Better?" The voice drawled, returning to its place under your bed. "Go to sleep now. There's nothing scarier here than me."

"Thanks Belphie. Goodnight."

You let one arm dangle off the side of your bed as you finally closed your eyes. After a while, you felt a cold hand grasping yours, keeping you safe in its grip.

.

.

.

"I said I was sorry!"

"You think a simple 'sorry' is gonna cut it?!"

Bumping into other students in a crowded hallway was almost inevitable, but apparently this upperclassman took personal offense at it. The older boy hauled you up by your shirt and slammed you against the lockers while everybody else kept their heads low and gave the two of you a wide berth.

"I oughta teach you a lesson for—" He looked over his shoulder at someone you couldn't see, frowning with irritation. "Whaddya mean 'wrong person'? This twerp was the one who—"

Whatever his demon said must have convinced him, because he abruptly let go and stomped away without another word. Your knees buckled and you slid to the floor with a breathy exhale.

Someone squatted down beside you to check the back of your head, running gentle fingers through your hair to soothe you. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I was more startled than anything." You smiled at Satan, who still seemed somewhat troubled. "Can you walk me to my next class?"

"With pleasure."

That night, Satan got Asmo to read to you on his behalf, claiming he had a last minute errand to run. You didn't mind; Asmo had such a melodic voice that he might as well have sung you to sleep.

(You never saw that upperclassman in school again. People still said he transferred out.)

.

.

.

The day your mother passed, you were sitting next to her and holding her hand, doing your best to ignore the beeping of the machines that monitored her vitals.

One minute she was peaceful, halfway dozed off while you spoke to her softly, the next her entire body seized up as she began mumbling incoherently.

The machines went haywire and alerted the nurses to her side. You were forced to step back and let them do their job, your panicked gaze focused on her fearful face as she writhed on the bed, as though struggling to get away from an assailant.

"No, no... I thought... Please..." were the last words you heard before someone wrapped their arms around you and turned you away.

"Don't look," Asmo cooed in your ear, moments before the shrill beeping noises became steady.

The demon guided you to sit in the hallway outside, whispering words of comfort and rubbing your back. He told you to remember how pretty your mother was before her illness, the good times you'd spent with her after all the hardship the two of you had endured, happy memories that made every second worth it.

You knew your demons would help you to work through the grief in time, but for now, you let yourself fall apart in Asmo's arms.

.

.

.

"Take care on your way home."

"Thanks boss, see you tomorrow."

Closing shifts sucked, but the late hours paid well. Luckily, you had company on your walk back too, a hulking figure no one else could see but everybody still instinctively steered clear of. It made taking shortcuts through shady alleys a little safer.

Even on nights you stopped for supper at a sleazy diner, the only place still open at this godforsaken hour, nobody invited themselves into your booth or tried to strike up conversation with you. Which worked just fine, all you wanted to do was eat your food, go home, and collapse into bed.

Strangely enough, you noticed that the cook also tended to be extra generous with the portions he served you. The man was loud and gruff towards the waitstaff, but on nights you were seated at the counter, he was quiet as a mouse when setting your dish in front of you.

You could never finish it all, but you always made sure to leave a good tip anyway.

.

.

.

You stared at the numbers on the screen for the longest time, feeling conflicted. A part of you wished you had never approached your coworker to ask about the discrepancies you'd found in the accounts, not when he opened your eyes to some of the dealings that went under your boss's radar. He offered you a cut of the profits to keep your mouth shut of course, but you never imagined...

He was a good guy. Hardworking, funny, always willing to pitch in and offering to pick up a bite for you whenever he went on snack runs. You knew he went to church regularly too, so why?

A bat-like wing blocked your view of the screen, and you looked up to see Mammon smirking. "You're overthinking this," he said. "The answer's right in front of ya."

"I thought..." You bit your lip. "He isn't doing too well himself, and the company isn't a megacorp or anything but it's not like they'll notice. Shouldn't I just look the other way?"

"Ha! What he's offering ya is peanuts compared to the promotion you'll get by exposing his operation."

"I'm not in it for the money—"

"Maybe so, but it's the right thing to do, ain't it?"

"Still..."

"You won't have to worry about any retaliation." Mammon assured you with a ruffle of your hair. "I'll make sure of it."

.

.

.

"—lie! It's all a lie! Listen to me, you can't trust the devils!"

"What nonsense are you watching now?" Levi leaned over your shoulder as you tilted your phone to give him a better view.

"A video that went viral recently. Some crazy dude ranting about conspiracies and whatnot."

Levi's nose scrunched up in distaste. "Sounds like he's jealous about having a wimpy lesser demon chained to him, if you ask me. These guys are just bitter they got leftovers since they aren't good people."

"I don't know, Levi. Some folks just need a bit of help, I think. And don't get me started on the whole nature vs. nurture debate."

"Well, doesn't change the fact that you can't save everybody."

"They're cultivating us, like livestock! You have to sin, SIN I say!"

"Ugh, I've had enough of this dude. Can you change the channel? We haven’t watched the latest episode about that time-traveling god yet.”

"Ooh, you’re right! Give me a sec to log into my account…"

.

.

.

Lucifer hummed in amusement. "Excuse me?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend." You scrambled to clarify your earlier statement. "It's just— I've known you and your brothers for so long that you don't look scary to me, not anymore. I'm not saying you guys should be monsters or anything, but... Does this mean I'm a bad person?"

"Demons have many forms not meant for mortal eyes," he explained patiently. "And you should know that humans are neither fully good nor bad, but often somewhere in-between. In any case, why would we ever wish to frighten you, hm?"

"Told you it was a silly question..." You grumbled under your breath.

Lucifer squeezed your shoulder. "You’re a good person. You always try your best to do the right thing, even without our guidance to keep you from going astray. I don't say this lightly: I’m proud of you."

You hid your warm cheeks in the demon's chest as you hugged him for all you were worth. "...Thanks Luci."

"Anytime. Now, off you go. Don't keep Beel waiting."

Lucifer watched as his younger brother filled the empty space next to you, holding your hand while walking you home. The hour was late and the streets were dark; it wouldn't do to have anything unsavory happen to you before you made it home safely.

Yes, they needed to keep you safe at all costs. A pure and innocent being like you was hard to come by, perhaps only once every millennia or so. He and his brothers had fought for the right to you, to nurture and polish your soul for when the time was right. And when it was, you would be—

"Delicious," Lucifer whispered, baring his fangs as he licked his lips.

[youunravelme]

okay but how does mat propose??? (like a pt. 2 follow up to the wedding cake fic)

omg omg omg a proposal request!! let it be known, i have never been engaged, BUT all my friends got engaged/married last year so i think i'm uniquely qualified (edit: this was started in 2023, you know, when this request was sent. once again, my b). (though this might just turn into my dream proposal bc i'm in love with him).

for those of you who wanna check the part 1 of the wedding cake fic, here it is!

another edit: i wrote this to distract myself from my absolute disdain at scott mayfield.

carry on.

his hands were sweating all day.

which was weird, considering it was february.

but it wasn't weird, given what he had planned. he didn't know if he wanted to scream or throw up. the idea of you becoming his wife surely made him giddy, but it was soured with the slight chance that you might say no. he was supposed to propose before the season started up again, but he was plagued with anxious thoughts.

it's not the right time.

i'm not ready yet.

or the worst one: i don't think i'm that serious about you.

which, in hindsight, wouldn't make sense considering you were already living together and have been for quite some time. you wore his jersey to games, you had conversations about starting a family, you texted his mom and sister more than he did. there was no reason for you to say no.

right?

right?

after he chickened out back in september, mat's new plan was to wait until the bye week to propose. he was going to take you on a vacation to conil de la frontera, spain. he had everything booked and ready.

but then he was drafted for the 2024 all star games.

he could see it in your eyes, you were ecstatic for him to be recognized, but when you took a week and a half off of work, you were planning on packing your bathing suit, not taking a short flight to toronto.

you bore the slight disappointment well, smiling and kissing him and hugging him tightly when he got the news. he beamed when he saw you post about it on your instagram.

he couldn't wait any longer to ask you. your reaction to a change in your vacation plans from something warm to canada in the winter solidified what he was anxious about for months.

you loved him, there as no doubt about it.

you were the most selfless human being he knew.

his teammates had been crucial in the planning process, well, at least their wives were. bo, marty, anders, brock, and clutterbuck had been chirping him since the start of the season when they noticed that your left hand was still devoid of a ring.

"what're you waiting for, barzy?" bo asked after a practice one day. "you found a good one, she'd probably wait forever for you, but why're you making her wait?"

mat shrugged at the time, too embarrassed to admit that despite being one of the best players in the league and having millions to his name, he was terrified that it still wouldn't be enough for you. not that you'd ever demanded more from him, you'd taken him as he was and cheered for him even when he was having the shittiest time of his life.

he could give you the moon and still wouldn't feel like it was enough.

so when mat finally told his teammates about his plan in toronto, they immediately communicated to the wives who were closest to you. sydney, grace, and holly took you out to get your nails done while marty, anders, bo, and mat started researching the most romantic places in toronto on anders' laptop just in case you spontaneously went through mat's search history.

the day was planned, the photographer and necessary tickets were booked, he'd propose at the evergreen brick works after texting auston matthews about cool places to visit while he was in town, (he had to clarify that he didn't care about cool bars, and was looking to bring you along).

you'd been talking nonstop on the plane ride to toronto that you didn't even notice mat was quietly stewing. everything had to be perfect.

it was the very least that you deserved.

the first day in toronto, both of you explored the city by going to coffee shops and restaurants recommended by players and their significant others. when you made it back to your hotel room, your feet were aching.

you fell face first into the bed, whining into the comforter. "my feet hurt," you groaned.

mat laughed from his position leaning against the wall. "i told you to wear better shoes," he said.

"i didn't anticipate you dragging me all over toronto today."

"well, that's what we'll be doing tomorrow too, so prepare yourself."

"mat," you whined, finally flipping over so he could see your pretty face again. you had a cute pout on your lips that he wanted to kiss away. "we're on vacation."

"and you've never been in this city before, you should get to see it." he walked over to where you were and grabbed your hands. "c'mon, let's go take a bath and then we can order room service and spend the rest of the night in bed."

you were quick to agree.

the following day was pretty mundane. but wednesday was the cause of mat's stress.

his phone lit up with texts from his teammates, his parents, liana, tito, and ethan, all wishing him a good luck. the two of you woke up early enough to go to a local cafe and grab breakfast before taking the bus to evergreen brick work.

"you okay?" you asked, placing your hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing anymore.

he thanked whatever possessed him to keep the ring box in his coat pocket on the side that wasn't pressed up against you.

"yeah," he smiled. "just ready to get there."

when the two of you hopped off the bus, you slid your hand into his almost immediately. out of habit, mat tucked you into his side, happy to just have you close. it was a little cold outside, but it was like he couldn't feel it because of your proximity.

"mat!" you tugged on his arm and pointed at one of the signs. "they have ice skating here!" you grinned widely up at him and he couldn't help but smile right back. "we should go!"

"we will," he said. "i wanna do this trail first."

you looked at him funny. "you wanna go on a walk?"

he shrugged, tearing his eyes away from you to focus on the signs in front of him. "auston suggested this place."

"you're asking for a lot of suggestions from auston. it's unlike you..."

"there's no need to be suspcious, babe. i know that you wanted to be in a tropical place for vacation, that was the plan and everything, but since we're here, thought we'd make the most of it."

you scrutinized his face for a moment longer before nodding and pulling yourself closer to him.

after you secured another hot coffee to combat the cold, mat started leading you on the trail. while you were ordering, he was coordinating with the photographer to make sure she was in position.

the trail itself wasn't that long, thankfully because mat couldn't get a word out and if it was any longer, he feared you would've caught on that he was incapable of speaking.

you were still talking about work drama when you got to the lookout point. your voice was taken away by the sight of toronto in the background.

you hadn't always been the most observant person ever, you didn't even know he liked you until he told you verbatim when he couldn't take it anymore.

"oh my god, mat," you gasped. you pointed at the skyline in front of you with the hand that wasn't holding your coffee. "look how pretty it is!"

he swallowed and knelt down on one knee while your back was turned. mat took the ring box out of his jacket pocket, doing his best not to drop it despite how much his hands were shaking.

"have you ever seen anything that--" you whipped back around to look for him. he watched as confusion filled your face when you didn't see him standing behind you, but kneeling in front of you.

"oh my god," you whispered, dropping your coffee on the ground so you could cover your mouth with both hands. "mat what--"

"i love you," he said. "i love the way you squeal at every cute baby that comes across your for you page or the way you cry at the drop of a hat. i love how you celebrate everyone around you. you are the brightest thing in my life and if i quit my job tomorrow, i know my life would still be fucking amazing because i'd have you.

"i know that my schedule is hectic, and you could probably find a man better than me, who was more consistent, who wasn't going to play games or have practices on your birthday, who could take you out of the country for a vacation to somewhere warm instead of dragging you with me to an all star game. but i promise you, i will do whatever it takes to give you the best life possible if you'd let me. i wanna grow old and crinkly with you, i want our kids to have the same last name as both of us. i want to be able to point you out in crowds and tell strangers that i somehow managed to convince you to marry me.

"i have never been more terrified in my life than i am right now," he admitted. "but i have never been more certain of anything i want more in my life than you. so will you have me? will you marry me?"

in the middle of his speech, mat didn't realize when he'd started crying, didn't even notice that you were all but sobbing. he just recognized the scent of your perfume when you lunged towards him and kissed him hard on the mouth, your tears mixing with his.

"yes," you mumbled into his mouth. "oh my god, yes."

mat let out a watery laugh and managed to slip the ring on your finger even though his hands were shaking. you pulled him up to stand and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him close.

you were sniffling as he pulled you in for another kiss.

"i love you,' he whispered against your lips.

"love you more," you smiled back.

[sweetestlamb]

The Art of Realization

Summary: A quiet moment between two beings that shouldn't be.

It's impossible to focus with him sitting too close, so close that the heat of his body encroaches on her personal space and honestly she should kick him out because that damn organ in her chest keeps pounding, but every time she looks over at him she just can't.

Can't say anything that will wipe that soft amused smile off his face.

He'd put on some comedy show for them to watch, walking man or something and every few seconds the ring of his laughter would fill the room and knock all thoughts from her head.

Something was wrong with her and he was at the core of the problem thus she needed to stay away from him until this... sickness passed. But she couldn't because every time she imagined her life without him everything hurt and her chest felt like someone had poured fired directly into the cavity.

She was a demon, a powerful at that and she of all people shouldn't be getting attached to a weak useless human but here she was worried about hurting Daon's feelings.

She screamed in frustration, suddenly pulling her hair and flopped back onto the couch.

"What's wrong with you? Are demons not allowed to watch comedy shows? Should I turn it off?"

His questions are so stupid that she just screams some more instead of answering him.

"Will you stop that, what are you a fish? Stop flopping around!" He yells at her but she can hear the amusement loud as a gong in his voice and she immediately becomes irritated. How dare he laugh at her frustration? Others had died at her hands for lesser offenses.

"Are you laughing at me? Do you want to die?"

Of course she knows that she's being a hypocrite especially after protecting him so many times but she still has a reputation to uphold, damn it.

"Not yet. We still have a lot to do before you can kill me."

And there it goes again.

She clutches her chest in agony at the very thought of hurting him. It hadn't been long ago that she had thrust her knife into his flesh and watched him bleed out without empathy or care but now she was devastated at the image.

She folds in half begging her heart to stop this nonsense.

"What's going on with you?" He shifts even closer, hand reaching out and she instinctively moves away from him, aware he's the only human who has this much power over her.

"Don't touch me!" She tries to command but the fear in her voice makes it sound like plea.

He freezes at her frantic voice, hand hovering before he lowers it onto his own knee.

"Leave. I'm not feeling well." She declares before running away to her room. As she slams the door behind her she feels like a coward, running away from a mere human. She, who should fear no one. She, who is one of hell's strongest warriors has been reduced to this. It's pathetic. She needs to return before it's too late and this disgusting humanity spreads.

She takes a few deep breaths pressing her sweaty forehead against the cool smooth wood of her door.

He's gone at least for tonight and she doesn't need to confront whatever is going on.

Seconds pass like molasses and when she hears no movement or sound, she finally opens the door intending to watch dramas until she falls asleep refusing to let herself think about him.

"Are you done with your little meltdown?"

He's right in front of her door, his face devoid of any emotion and she almost slams the door in his face but he's too quick for her.

She's still stronger than him but she doesn't want to hurt him so she doesn't use her full strength and she knows the he knows this is the case from the quirk of his eyebrow.

"Shut up." She demands harshly pushing him in the chest.

"Ow. I didn't say anything."

"Your stupid face said enough."

"Stupid huh? You called it handsome last time. Has it changed that much since then?"

She gapes at him in shock.

"When did I ever say that?"

"Oh you don't remember? When you were touching my lips and--"

"Shut up!"

He mimes zipping his lips but that has the adverse effect of making her look at them. Those beautiful full lips that she shouldn't be so tempted by. Demons didn't kiss, some had sex but she had never been interested in anything like that. She would never make herself so vulnerable in front of anyone.

But she had already done that with him.

Cried in front of him.

Cried because of him.

It was unacceptable but she couldn't stop doing it, couldn't get her heart to stop breaking when his broke in front of her.

"There's that look again."

She swiftly looks away but it's not fast enough.

He cups her cheeks drifting her eyes back onto his own.

"That look. You look like your heart is breaking."

He sees right through her and she hates it, hates him and what he's done to her, she's Justitia the third most powerful demon but in front of him none of that even matters.

"I'm a demon. I don't have a heart."

"Then why do you look like you're going to cry?"

As if waiting for his permission, a tear slips down her cheek and then another and another until they are falling in a rapid stream.

"Stop crying in front of me. Do you know what it does to me?" He pleads wiping her tears away with one huge thumb and then his own eyes pool with tears as they stare at each other.

She shouldn't ask how her tears affect him. Because she shouldn't care about him or anyone.

"What does it do?" Her lips defy her brain.

"It makes me want to burn the world at your feet, to do any and everything to make you stop. It makes me want to do things I know I shouldn't, things that humans and demons can never do."

Her eyes widen in surprise but that isn't the only emotion fueling her thoughts, she feels blood rushing to her head and her face starts to heat up as well.

"Are you blushing?" He questions in awe.

And she opens her lips to respond but he beats her to it, "Beautiful. You're beautiful."

She raises her hands to push him away but his skin is so warm and his chest is harder than she expected and before she can control herself, her hands begin to cautiously explore him. As her palms drift from his abdomen to his shoulder she see his Adam's apple bob in anticipation.

The hands on her cheek shift until one is cupped around her neck and the other tightens on her waist, tugging her closed until they are chest to chest and she has to look up to meet his dark eyes.

"We shouldn't."

She begs but he barely reacts to her words, staring at her like a man starved.

They both know that she can stop this at any moment and he waits to see if she will run away again.

He licks his lips and that's all it takes to break her resolve.

She thrusts her head forward powerfully until their lips meet in a hard clash, she even hears a muffled groan of pain. She uses her strength to tug him down and press her mouth even harder into his, it hurts a little but this is how she's seen them kiss in all the dramas she's watched so she presses on.

"Wait--"

He speaks in between their lips and she starts to retreat, realizing what exactly she's doing and with who.

"We're not stopping. Just... softer. Like this." He leans in again and presses his lips against hers delicately like she's something precious. Every time she tries to increase the intensity he moves away before returning with another air soft kiss, it's driving her crazy but she can't deny it's efficiency. It makes her hungry for more.

"Isn't that better? This doesn't need to be a battle."

Oh. But that's all she's ever known. All she's good for. He should know that.

"Don't think. Just feel me."

"Okay. If you want my full attention, then you need to do something to get it."

She's bluffing of course, his swollen red lips, rising chest and flushed face have her full attention already. Her thoughts are nothing but Han Daon.

But he accepts the challenge as usual never backing down from her.

He leans close again, dragging a thumb to her jaw and then pulling down and she lets her mouth fall open in curiosity and confusion wondering where this is going.

His eyes darken even more and she has no idea the image she makes standing before him with her eyes filled with emotions and mouth obediently agape.

She only has a second to catch her breath before he's diving in and pressing his mouth against hers but this time it's different, it's wet and searing hot. His tongue is doing things that she's never known about. Dancing with her own in a dance that's too sinful for someone like him. She starts to lose her head with him pushing his tongue deeper into her mouth.

She feels like she's being eaten alive. Devoured.

Desperate to regain some semblance of control she moves them backwards until she has him pressed against the wall. She's never kissed before but she's a fast learner and she's eager to taste him in return.

Using her superior strength she shoves him up against the wall and pries his mouth open so she can fill her taste buds with a flavor that is distinctly him. Her heart is pounding in her chest but she can't stop, one taste and she's already addicted.

But she can feel him smiling into their kiss and she pulls away to glare at him.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I've never had a woman manhandle me like this."

"Well I'm not a woman really. But do you feel weak? Does it bother you that I'm stronger?"

He shrugs easily shaking his head.

"No. It's kinda hot."

"Idiot. You think everything I do is hot."

He doesn't deny it. Instead he drags his large hand down her waist to briefly cup her ass before blushing and moving it away.

"Did you just grope me?" She demands glaring up at him harder even as her cheeks burn and something between her legs tingles.

"Um...no?"

But she can still feel the sensation of his hand on her rear.

"Who knew you were such a pervert?"

He blushes harder, "Well you were right. I've never had a pretty girl take care of me before."

And possessiveness flares in her chest. She likes that he's never done this before with anyone else. And now he never will with anyone else unless they want to burn for all eternity in hell.

Mine.

She shouldn't be having thoughts like that. But she can't stop herself from thinking it.

So she does she does best, deflect.

"What's this? Are you that happy to touch a woman's ass? Did it get you that excited?" She teases dragging one finger up the inseam of his pants, right next to the pronounced tent forming in front.

He wriggles but doesn't move away like she expected, freaking brat.

"Are you that happy to touch me there? Have you ever seen a human.... naked?"

She blushes brightly, pulling her hand away as if she's been burned.

"You pervert!"

He chuckles at her indignation, shifting to tuck himself away.

"And you're a tease. An adorable innocent tease."

"I'm not innocent, I'm a demon."

"Yeah but you're a demon who's never seen a dic--"

And before he can finish his sentence she hits him with a pillow causing him to fall onto the couch.

And maybe later tonight when she's alone what she's done will terrify her beyond belief but right now she can only think about this beautiful human who has broken down all her walls.

She wants to stay with him.

She wants Han Daon.

Fuck.

[herefortheships]

Y'know, ooth of "the marriage contract counted as a marriage after getting signed"... Betelgeuse never signed it, did he?

Like, yeah, if they BOTH had signed it back then, that would have been a marriage, and said marriage would have been voided shortly afterwards by Code 699.

But maybe the reason why the contract didn't immediately burn up and why they couldn't banish Betelguise was bc that part of the contract stood on its own just with her signature, bc without his signature, the contract wasn't a marriage yet but was a promise that she or the younger Deetz wouldn't banish him + whatever the fine print said (which was likely about other means to get rid of him).

Or the contract hadn't been in effect at all yet and he just used his powers to steal Astrid's voice, idk.

So like, there's another out he gave her. He could have made the contract about a promise of marriage. He could have signed the marriage contract right after Astrid got rescued. He could have cut the MacArthur Park thing a little shorter. And he could have signed it after Astrid pointed out the loophole and gone "Nope, we weren't married yet. [signs] But now we are!"

But he doesn't actually want to force Lydia into marriage (anymore). So, I think what with his intended looking less than enthused while he lip-synced his feelings out, and his not-yet stepdaughter not being all that on board with the marriage (even though B had prevented Rory becoming her step-dad. Ungrateful youth) I think he just burned that contract himself. And then put on a show ballooning up dramatically at the first mention of his name, so Lydia could feel like she vanquished him. Which, like, if you are an immensely powerful ghost courting a living and rather anxious human woman, it's probably a good strategy to make her feel in control.

I love the thought of this, and I agree. It would make sense if he was the one who burned the contract himself, considering it never did until Astrid mentioned it; I hadn't considered that. He was never going to force her this time; he definitely hoped she would fulfill her end of the deal and marry him, but he wasn't going to forcer to do it if she didn't want to in the end. There's just too much evidence for it, considering he had such a lengthy wedding dance, instead of just quickly getting the priest to pronounce them man and wife like he did in the first movie.

I think during the events of the sequel he may have learned that the way to Lydia's heart is to take it easy. He was coming on too strong (it would be funny if he is still coming on too strong in movie three, though lol, even while thinking he isn't, that'd be hilarious), and instead of showing her his intentions, the way he acted just pushed her away even more. Lydia and Delia even locked the attic. Lucky for him, Lydia ended up needing him later (and Delia needed him, too. lol).

The first time seeing her face to face, the first thing he did was to illusorily get her pregnant 😅, and then he was totally going to pull her to him and kiss her, so he was kinda showing her his (totally wild lol) sexual interest right from the get go.

Next time he sees her, though, instead of grabbing her and being a savage, he lets her take the lead after she summons him. She's the one who brings up the marriage deal, as well. So hopefully he learned the way into her heart is not to force himself on her, but to give her space (though it's Betelgeuse, I bet it's taking a lot of restraint to keep himself still around her lol). Now he has made his intentions clear and shown he can be helpful not only to Lydia, but to her family as well (and told her daughter she can call him dad. Hey, I know it was because she couldn't call him by his name, but it's just sweet to me that he's cool with Astrid calling him dad. It was one of my favorite things, ngl).

I'm totally writing a lot just to say that I agree with all of this. Betelgeuse always left her a gap to get out of the contract. Hopefully next time she will say "I do" and it will all be her choice. My fingers are crossed for the third movie. As Tim Burton himself said "it's Beetlejuice, there's always gotta be a wedding" (paraphrasing here; this was in the bts extras for BJBJ), so for SURE we will have the wedding with the happy ending in the end, no doubt. ✨Manifesting 😌✨.

[hotcheetogirlluver]

I was wondering if you can do a Levi x Reader where it's a calm romantic setting? fluff pls! (i'm new to your account) also it's post war Levi! after the war please, and give him his tea shop he's always wanted thank you :')

A/N: I really like this one it seems more romantic than the other ones I've made. i really enjoyed making this one. it made me appreciate life for a second. please requests more everybody, I love writing your guy's ideas. there you go new reader, enjoy 💗

Summary: You and Levi have always loved each other. Deeply. Now that the war is over and Titans no longer roam the Earth everyone is at peace. But not fully... Which one of you will confess their feelings first?

WARNINGS ⚠️: none

Romance++++++, Fluff+++++++

(y/n): your name

I also suggest going on Spotify and searching up the playlist, "liminal" for this story. its perfect for this one.

___________________________________________________________

The sky was filled with many colors all blending together perfectly making it look like art. Orange, pink, some red. Pink clouds all gathered, floating absentmindedly in the calm sky. The sun, making its way to hide behind a mountain, still outshined all the lights that were on in random homes.

Sometimes it was a question if humans lived in that reality. The now, peaceful reality. No Titans to be seen. One could finally live their life in a calmful manner. It felt almost unrealistic.

The streets were empty, making the scenery look even more beautiful without people passing through every second.

The cool breeze grazed Levi���s cheek and made his bangs swing. He stared at the sunset dying down with a cup of tea in his hand. It looked like he was stuck in a gaze the way he was staring out into the sun. His eye looked glassy, the sky’s rich deep colored beauty reflecting in his eye. He held his cup of tea up to his lips and drank some of his warm tea. When he lowered the cup, a small sigh escaped his lips.

Having to fight for everything he had currently, the simple word appreciation was not suitable for what he felt. He was glad to finally be relieved from Titans.

He could almost see his fallen comrades joining the sunset, smiling at him and nodding in respect. His heart suddenly felt heavy.

‘I will always remember each and every one of you.’

His eyes turned soft and he stared as they all waved a final goodbye and joined the sun, hiding behind the mountain fully.

Levi couldn't bring himself to look away, as the darkness seemed to take over the once colorful sky. He felt something sit on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance as he looked to the side to see (Y/n) and her hand on his shoulder.

Her..

His soft look in his eye stayed still.

“That was truly beautiful wasn't it..” She breathed out, also starring where the sun used to be.

He looked back, seeing tiny little dots in the dark soothing sky. Their dim brightness replacing the sun's warmth.

“It still is.” Levi spoke. The corner of her lips turned up ever so slightly. A small smile on her calm features. The breeze brushing her smooth skin. Her hair moved side to side as the wind pushed it softly.

“Yeah… it still is.” She breathed out quietly.

They stayed still for a long moment just admiring the sky. Both lost in their own thoughts.

She was his everything.

(Y/n) (L/n). She served in the Survey Corps with him, and they didn't become friends right away but as time went on the friendship began slowly. Slowly, and slowly as time passed Levi started to think she was actually quite.. beautiful.

When the war started, Levi lost all of his closest friends. Except one. Her. She survived but the war seemed to haunt her in a way also. He now owns a tea shop. A popular one to be exact. She didn't work there but she still helped him clean up the shop every night.

Levi stared down at the ground now.

He was at true peace with his life.

But the only selfish thing he wished for was to be her's.His love for her had grown over the years, something that was not expected from him.

He didn't even know he was in love with her at first, until Hange pointed it out. Levi sometimes thought, ‘what if Hange survived the war?’ …. Where would she sit with her life? He knows if she were still alive he’d continue to go to Hange for advice on (Y/n).

He took a deep breath in. Cold air traveling to his lungs.

“Let's go inside Levi. It's going to get cold,” A quiet voice spoke behind him.

He didn't respond, only nodded.

He grabbed the wheels of his wheelchair and started pushing them forward. (Y/n) tore her eyes away from the sky as she walked inside the shop.

“Every table and counter is wiped down, the floors are swept and mopped, and the dishes are all clean.” She walked to her jacket she left on the counter.

“I..” Levi stared at the especially clean floors.

“I didn't ask you to do that (Y/n) and you know it.” It slightly irritated him that she always cleaned the shop at night. It's his shop, he should be the one doing the hard work.

She put on her jacket and stared at him.

He was simply… gorgeous. His war scars.. were something traumatic but beautiful. His blind eye was nothing to be ashamed of.. because she saw it as beauty he had to him. His bangs he had since his younger years framed his upper face and cheekbones made him stand out handsomely.

(Y/n) smiled softly at Levi. “I know.”

Her tired whisper made Levi look at her.

“Then why do you still clean? You come back everyday to just clean the shop at night. Why?” She shrugged half heartedly, and continued smiling tiredly at him.

“I like being near you,” Levi’s eye looked slightly more awake now. They both stared at each other. (Y/n) staring at Levi full of admiration and.. love. Levi staring at (Y/n) with shock.

“.. Why?” His voice went quiet. In the silence, repetitive small thumps were heard. Perhaps.. his heart.

“Because..” She started. Her eyes having a shadow in them yet some sort of light was twinkling in there.

“Your Levi Ackerman. I'll always want to be near you.” Levi felt warmth fill him. His gaze traveled to the ground.

“I'm Levi Ackerman. The exact reason why anyone should not want to be near me.” She stood still for the shortest second.

Then she walked up to him. (Y/n) crouched down and tilted her head slightly to meet with his pretty eye.

“That's not true. And you know it..” She wanted to reassure him. He knew but it felt like he was doubting himself once again. He just.. He could never forgive himself for letting his comrades die. Levi’s eye looked elsewhere after it met with hers.

“You have to stop pushing me away, Levi. I always stick with you, you know that.” She set her hand onto Levi’s. Heat crawled up onto Levi’s neck and the warm flow of blood rush filled his cheeks.

“I know.. and I hate it.” Her eyebrows scrunched up slightly in confusion and a little bit of hurt. Levi noticed this and continued to speak.

“It's hard to understand why you want to spend your life like this. Putting up with me and cleaning up after me and my mistakes. You could be traveling all around the world right now. I'm just holding you back.” Her hand slipped under his to hold. Levi looked up at her and then to his hand. He almost flinched as she interlocked their fingers together.

“Stop telling yourself these things. I know I can travel around the world. I know that. Stop acting as if you're a burden, and I ‘have’ to put up with you. Because I don't. Out of everywhere on this Earth I would rather be with you because there's no one like you. I adore and appreciate you Levi, and I’m glad we have each other.” (Y/n)’s cheeks turned a light pink and her warm hand held onto Levi’s with such gentleness.

“(Y/n)..”

“I should get going. It looks like it's about to snow.” (Y/n) stood up and pulled her hand away from Levi’s. Levi’s hand quickly held onto her wrist just as she was about to walk away from him.

“Stay here then. I have a room upstairs.” (Y/n) blinked and felt her cheeks warm up on their own.

“That's okay, you need your rest. I'll be back tomorrow,” She was about to walk away but the grip Levi had on her wrist was firm.

“What if I want you to stay?” Levi turned a light shade of crimson as he tried to speak with a clear voice.

“.. W-What?” (Y/n) gulped nervously, her lips parted and her eyes widened.

“What if I want you to stay with me? (Y/n) I…” Levi looked down as his firm grip slightly faltered. His eye looked up at her. His features had a soft look to them.

‘Here goes nothing..’

“(Y/n). I want you to stay with me because..” He shook his shyness away and looked at her again. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were staring at him, waiting for him to finish what he started. And she held this look of.. love?

Love? Did she love him too?

Levi said nothing more but let go of her wrist, and slid down to the palm of her hand, gently holding it in his. His rough hand held her soft hand up to his lips.

A shy kiss to her knuckle.

It felt like the only thing that could be heard was the pounding of both of their hearts. (Y/n) only watched as Levi interlocked their fingers together again.

“Marry me (Y/n).”

“Levi,” She quietly breathed out.

“Marry me.” He repeated and she couldn't speak. Her flusteredness made her breath halt.

Levi awaited her reply with a flushed face.

She snapped out of it once she realized Levi must’ve been waiting for a couple of minutes. Her heart beating as fast as a rabbits, filled with warmth.

“Yes,” She nodded slowly.

His eyes widened, not actually expecting her to say yes.

“Yes?” He questioned.

“Yes,” She smiled and her shaky hand held tighter onto Levi’s.

He pulled her into a tight hug. She sat on his lap, while he hugged her with all the passion he could manage. Her eyes filled with shiny tears and they rolled down her face as she hiccuped.

“(Y/n).” He pulled away but held onto her still.

“What's wrong?” She shook her head and used the heel of her hand to wipe away her tears. Her cheeks growing warm again, as she smiled.

“I’m just so happy. Ya know?” She hiccuped again and Levi couldn't stop himself as he leaned in and pushed a small kiss to her lips.

The saltiness of her tears mixed in with the sweet taste of her lips. She kissed him back and brought one of her shaky hands to wrap around his neck. He deepened the kiss as he tilted his head.

The happiness flowing through the both of them made them feel at peace.

Love surely was a powerful thing. After being in love for many years and not doing anything about it (Y/n) was finally truly and genuinely happy.Snow fell from the sky outside, and hit against the shops windows which both of them didn't see to notice.Almost all of their friends died in the war. Before the war. The two of them missed them with heavy hearts sometimes but.. they had each other. And now, they will live together in peace, for all of their fallen comrades.

(Y/n) and Levi both were laying on his bed in the room above the shop. The fireplace upstairs heated both of them up as they were under the covers. (Y/n) rested her head on his chest as she stared into the fire blankly with almost hooded eyes. Levi stared at the ceiling as he breathed in softly. His chest would rise and fall every few seconds making (Y/n) calm.

“Can we stay like this forever?..” She whispered, the fire’s brightness reflecting in her eyes. Levi held onto her with a somewhat tight grip.

“No.. I have to open the teashop tomorrow, precious.” Her heart ignited at the nickname but she only began to smile small.

“Well then.. for tonight then? And every night after this?” It was quiet for a moment until he spoke in a quiet voice also.

“It would be hard not too once we’re married.” She closed her eyes.

“You were serious about that?” His eyes felt heavy for the first time in forever.

“How could I not be serious about that?.. I’ve always thought marriage is stupid. But.. I want you to be mine for the rest of my life. My love for you isn't a joke.”

(Y/n) opened her tired, now hooded eyes. Still staring into the fire..

“You can at least take me on a couple of dates before y’know.” He smiled small at her words and quietly chuckled.

“Okay.” She inhaled and softly exhaled.

"Does this mean I'm hired now?" She teased.

"I'll check with the manager tomorrow," Levi responded making both of them laugh quietly.

Then there was a moment of silence. Both of them getting sleepier the longer the seconds passed.

“I love you, Levi.”

Levi continued to stare at the ceiling. Feeling complete with her and her words.

“I love you too, (Y/n).” Her eyes shut and the crackling of the fire calmed her to sleep.

“Always..” He shut his eyes too and held her closer.

[xxxball-fondlerxxx]

my little (super ridiculously long) mouthwashing analysis specifically on curly and the way jimmy sees him post-crash

mouthwashing spoilers under the cut!!

something something jimmy viewing curly as his hero and being jealous of him and respecting him only to lose that respect the moment curly became severely injured and disabled... no longer seeing him as a person but as a burden whose needs he's forced to tend to....

something about how, even if only on a subconscious level, curly didn't take anya's cries for help seriously because, well, he wasn't in danger. he was the captain of the ship, a man, he had never needed to rely on someone else to stand up for him like anya did. he had never had his autonomy and humanity stripped from him like anya did.

which is not to say, btw, that curly became no longer human or autonomous after the accident, nor did anya. but rather thats how they were treated and viewed by jimmy.

as a powerful confident man, curly was always seen by jimmy as a human worthy of respect, even someone above jimmy himself. i think maybe curly found some safety in that, that jimmy's tendency towards violence and dehumanization of people like anya, that arent in a position of power, was never directly curly's problem.

and thats a common thing in the real world, whatever form it may take. atrocities happen in other countries, but some get to be oblivious to it, because it's not their problem. abled people ignore the fact that a restaurant doesnt have any ramps, because it's not their problem.

and of course, you really should care because you should care about other people. but also, it could become your problem. it often does. it's very easy for it to become your problem. curly didn't treat jimmy's assault of anya as an urgent problem because jimmy is his friend, but also, on another level, i think its because curly could never see what it was like to be anya. he could never understand what it felt like to have your autonomy ripped from you, to rely on someone else to protect you and care for you simply because of things out of your control. he knew that jimmy respected him, or at least he thought he did, and he figured that some gentle persuasion could work wonders.

but similar to anya, jimmy never respected curly as a person. he respected curly as the cool and capable captain of the tulpar that jimmy wanted so desperately to be. and the moment curly couldn't be that anymore, the moment he had to rely on other people for food, for replacing his bandages, for giving him his painkillers, he was no longer what jimmy respected.

stripped to his bare personhood, no longer the perfect ablebodied captain of the tulpar, he was no longer deserving of jimmy's respect. he became nothing more, in jimmy's eyes, than a new punching bag.

idk tho. this is just an unedited stream of consciousness post. i wanted to talk about the symbolism and overall significance of curly's disability because i believe that really does exist and can exist without framing disability as a punishment for his inaction or a horror in and of itself. because that's just wrong. the horror, i believe, of curly's condition, is not its mere existence, but rather the horror is in how jimmy views it. the horror is in the fact that curly trusted jimmy as a close friend and jimmy stopped pretending to view curly as human the moment that became convenient.

ALSO. these are just my thoughts as someone who is not physically disabled myself but this is just what ive picked up from what ive heard from physically disabled people talking about mouthwashing as well as my own slightly relevant experience of being audhd. so please, my word here is not gospel, critique is welcome, thank you for listening