#I struggled the most with talking about her in past tense it just didn’t make sense

[timetohealit]

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[valkyriexo]

Silence | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )

The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.

But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.

Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring

Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.

Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.

Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.

You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.

Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”

Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”

You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.

And he still wasn’t here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here

“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”

The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”

The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.

The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”

The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.

No word from Chan. No explanation.

By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."

And he was right. You deserved better than this.

When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—

Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.

You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”

Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”

It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”

His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.

“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”

Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”

But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.

The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.

"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"

“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”

Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”

Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.

The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.

At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently—apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.

One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”

He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.

“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”

“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”

You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.

You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”

Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.

Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.

As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.

Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.

You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.

His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.

The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.

You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.

Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.

"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear

Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.

Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.

You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.

You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.

He was apologizing right?

You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.

"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.

Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.

Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.

As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.

But that wasnt the end for Chan

He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.

"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.

"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."

As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.

"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.

"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"

And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.

Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[xwritingdixonx]

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ���em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey!!! I just got the most amazing idea ever!! (probably 🤭) I know that Franco had just lose his grandfather and he had to do FP. And basically everyone (the media & paparazzi just decide to hustle him despite him clearly not wanting to talk or do anything for them. Which is why he wears headphones and cap). So this is more of James with a wife reader. She is practically comforted and was with him since she always does that to everyone. Franco was just so young and she wanted to cocoon him in her warmth. From having bad weather to that awful FP which he crashed and later Alex did the same🙃🙃 Everyone especially the mechanics had to double their work because race starts in like 3 hours after quali. And how can they fix two cars in just that shirt period of time??? Being able to fix one was a miracle, but fixing two? They need to call everyone at the factory it seems😮‍💨😮‍💨 And then Alex not starting the race and Franco struggle in the rain because Williams didn't want to put wet tyres and then later crashed making the stewards flagging the race as red. You know, just a shitty day at the office. Williams out of the race:(( Everyone frustrated, tension arises, more work to do with how the race turns out to be. James admired her about that. Keeping calm, composure and bringing in warmth to everyone at the paddock (maybe interactions with drivers). This is the longest I've ever sent you, so it's up to you how it goes. I trust you. Can be anything you want. Fluff or angst or suggestive. Can be one shot or series. Anything. Just a whole lot of thank you for everything you've ever done for me!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Tag me later!! If you have any questions, just ask me!! I'll be happy to help. Thanks!!! :))

Rain, Resolve, and Resilience

word count. 1.2k

Pairing: James Vowles x reader

AN: Thank you so much for your application i really need that.

______________________________________________________________

The Williams paddock was a storm of activity that mirrored the turbulent clouds overhead. Rain battered the track, but it was nothing compared to the emotional storm inside. Franco, one of the team’s youngest drivers, had only recently lost his grandfather, the man who had nurtured his passion for racing from the start. Now, Franco was expected to push through that grief and focus on practice, even as his heart was heavy. The cameras followed his every step, journalists crowding in with pointed questions, ignoring the lines of grief etched into his face. He pulled his cap down low, headphones covering his ears in an attempt to escape, but it was all too much.

Y/n, the beloved wife of team principal James Vowles, saw it all unfold from the edge of the garage. She had spent countless hours at James's side, becoming a quiet pillar for the team in a way only she could. Mechanics and engineers knew they could go to her if the pressure became too much; her presence alone had a grounding, calming effect on everyone. Today, seeing Franco, barely more than a boy, desperately trying to hold himself together as he faced the cameras alone, broke her heart.

She moved toward him gently, slipping past the reporters who still tried to shout questions his way, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Franco,” she said, her voice calm, almost a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Franco’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He managed a grateful smile, his voice barely audible when he replied, “Thank you, Y/n.” He didn’t say more, but she could see the relief in his eyes. Knowing he wasn’t alone in that moment meant everything.

The rain was relentless, and as the team prepared for the practice session, the paddock was tense. Y/n stayed close, keeping an eye on Franco as he prepared to take to the track. She felt protective, wanting to shield him from all the hurt and stress he was carrying. With a deep breath, he climbed into the car, and she watched, fingers crossed, hoping he could find some solace in the race. But as the rain poured harder, the slick track proved unforgiving. Franco’s car spun out on a turn, and he crashed, the impact sending a chill through the paddock. Minutes later, Alex followed, a sickening repeat that left the team reeling.

The Williams garage erupted into controlled chaos. With less than three hours to go before qualifying, both cars were in dire need of repair. Mechanics dashed back and forth, voices rising as they shared updates over radios and called for parts. It felt like an impossible task; fixing one car was a miracle on its own, but two? Every hand was needed, and the tension among the crew was palpable.

In the midst of it all, Y/n was a steady, calm presence, moving through the garage like a breath of fresh air. She approached a young mechanic, shoulders slumped as he stared down at a particularly stubborn part. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, looking close to defeat.

“Take a second,” Y/n said softly, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re doing amazing. We’ll get there, piece by piece.”

The mechanic glanced at her, finding comfort in her reassuring smile. “Thanks, Y/n,” he murmured, his spirits lifting. She continued to move through the garage, offering words of encouragement to others, giving each team member the strength to push on.

James glanced over at his wife between giving orders, his admiration shining in his eyes. She had a gift, a way of making people feel seen and valued, even when everything felt impossible. He’d often find her in these moments, quietly lifting the spirits of those around her, giving them strength without ever drawing attention to herself. She was the backbone of the team in ways that only he could see.

Back in a quieter corner of the garage, Franco sat alone, hands in his hair as he replayed the crash in his mind. He looked up as Y/n approached, her presence bringing a hint of calm to the chaos within him.

“Do you want to take a little walk?” she asked gently, nodding toward a nearby corridor away from the noise. Franco nodded, grateful for the escape, and they stepped outside into the cooler air.

As they walked, she spoke quietly, her words laced with compassion. “You know, you don’t have to keep this all bottled up. Losing someone you love…it doesn’t go away just because you’re expected to race.” Her tone was soft, non-judgmental, offering him a safe space to express the grief he’d been carrying alone.

Franco took a shaky breath, the weight of the loss settling in his chest. “I just… I wish he was here to see me race,” he admitted, his voice catching. “He taught me everything, and now…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his back, offering him a moment of silent support. “I think he’d be incredibly proud of you, Franco. You’re out here, giving it everything despite how hard things are. That takes strength,” she said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

When they returned to the paddock, Franco looked a bit lighter. The time away with Y/n had given him a bit of the peace he needed to keep going.

The rain returned with a vengeance on race day, and the paddock was alive with tension once more. Only Franco’s car had been fully repaired, and the knowledge that Alex wouldn’t be able to start weighed heavily on the team. Despite the pressure, Y/n stayed close, her comforting presence a balm to the team’s frayed nerves.

As Franco took to the track again, Y/n stayed by the garage monitors, her hands clasped tightly as she watched him navigate the rain-soaked circuit. But the track was treacherous, and the decision not to put on wet tires soon proved costly. Franco’s car began to slide, the wet track claiming another victim as he fought to regain control. Y/n’s heart sank as she watched him crash once more, the red flags raised as the race was halted.

The team was devastated. The loss of both cars cast a shadow over the weekend, leaving everyone drained and disheartened. In the paddock, frustration was written across every face, the team grappling with the weight of another painful blow. For many, the temptation to give up felt stronger than ever.

But Y/n, ever the steady presence, moved through the crowd, her calm energy pulling everyone back to center. She listened as mechanics vented their frustrations, offering a word of comfort or a quiet hug to those who needed it most. For the younger team members, she was a constant, a familiar warmth that reminded them they weren’t alone in their struggles.

When James finally made his way over, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, he found Y/n beside Franco once more. The young driver looked up at her, his gratitude clear even in his exhaustion. James watched, his admiration for his wife growing with each passing moment. She was the heart of the Williams family, the one who kept them all grounded when the pressures of racing felt too much to bear.

Y/n looked up at James, catching his gaze with a soft smile that seemed to ease his worries. “We’ll get through this,” she said, as much a promise as a reassurance.

[pricetagofficial]

How Far We Fall -D.G.

Warnings: Language, angst, mentions of death, child loss, therapy, trauma, attempted murder, poor Tim is caught in the middle of this

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: You guys voted for the angst, well you got the angst. I don't actually remember how I came up with this. All I remember is that I wanted to write pain, and well here I am!

I am not sorry, you guys wanted this.

Dick couldn’t believe what he was looking at, here you were in front of him with a dagger to his younger brother’s throat, Tim’s throat, and a murderous look in your eyes. 

He watched as Robin squirmed in your hold, desperate to get away but one wrong move and his throat would be slit and there would be no going back. 

Batman tensed beside him, ready for a fight to save his youngest. Somehow, you had gotten past their security and wormed your way into their lives. Somehow, you fit in so well they didn’t even think twice before accepting you. 

That was their mistake. 

“Y/N–” Dick held a hand out, the glove of his suit palm up as if he was trying to convince you to come back to him. “Let him go, and we can talk about this.” 

“Talk? You want to talk?” you scoffed. “Fine then. Why don’t we talk about the reason why we’re here.” 

After years of planning, this was your moment to get back at the Batman. Back at him for everything you’ve lost because of him and his senseless no-killing rule. If he didn’t have that rule, you wouldn’t be holding his youngest at knifepoint threatening to take his son from him, like he took your daughter. 

How could he have been so blind? So smitten with you, the idea of who you were, Dick gave you everything including his secret identity without so much as batting an eye. 

“Y/N, please–” he pleaded, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “He’s just a kid–” 

“So was my daughter!” you screamed, voice echoing off the walls around you. “She was barely a year old and it’s your fucking fault!” 

Dick stopped in his tracks at your words, what were you talking about? After living with you for the last six months, he would have noticed if you had a kid. 

“What are you talking about?” Dick asked, his eyes not leaving you or Tim. 

Your jaw tensed as your eyes flitted past Dick and stared at the man responsible. “Two years ago, October 31st.” 

Halloween, two years ago? Dick looked behind him towards Bruce; he was in Bludhaven at the time, but he heard how bad it was. The Joker and Mad Hatter decided that blowing up a city block or two and dosing them with gas was a good trick-or-treat gift. Bruce struggled hard and kept Robin inside that night. He was about to open his mouth when Bruce spoke up. 

“You were there,” his voice rumbled through the air making your nerves stand on end. 

“Of course I was there.” you hissed. “I was trapped in the rubble for 4 hours, another 3 before they found her.” 

Dick didn’t miss the way your voice wavered, nor the way your grip loosened on the knife. Tim didn’t seem to either, before steadying himself on his feet. 

“I lost the most important person in my life because you can’t keep your fucking city in check.” Your grip on Tim’s cape tightened, pulling him back into you. “And now I’ll take someone important to you.” 

Batman let out an audible growl before Dick jumped between him and yourself. 

“Y/N stop! Think this through!” 

“I have thought it through,” you spoke, voice unnaturally calm despite the circumstances. “You were my original target, Dick.” 

Dick’s blood ran cold at your words, you were planning to kill him? 

 You laughed. “But somehow you wriggled your way into my heart and I couldn’t kill you, so I had to improvise.” 

“So you kidnap a child to prove a point?” 

“I’m fourteen,” 

“Not now, Tim.”

You hardened your gaze, “There’s no going back for me, Dick. This is where it ends.” 

Daring to take a step towards you, Dick pulled the mask off his eyes. 

“Nightwing–” 

“Bruce now is not the time.” Turning his attention back on you, Dick kept a calm look on his face despite the terror coursing through him. He failed one brother, he couldn’t fail another. 

“Come back with me. Let Tim go and we can go home and forget this ever happened.” 

You scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know how this works. The second I let the kid go, he’s going to go running to you while Batman leaves me a bloody pulp for the police to find.” 

Dick sighed, dropping his head before he looked at you once more. “You’re right, we can’t just forget this. But we can get you help, get you to the right people.” 

Pressing the knife to Tim’s throat, you felt him tense under your hold. “I’m not going to that hellhole you call Arkham.” 

Taking another step, Dick shook his head. “No, not Arkham. But the second you hurt Tim, I can’t stop them from sending you there.” 

Swallowing hard, you took a look around. What were you doing? Dick had a point, Tim was a child no matter how many times he pointed out to you how old he was. Were you really going to kill him because Batman was responsible for the death of your baby?

Meeting Dick’s eyes again, you could see why he removed the mask. It was so you could see the expression in them, the longing, the hope that you would let his brother go and take his hand. 

The blue in his eyes stood out in the darkness around you, almost matching the blue of his suit. After all this, did he really think the two of you could go back to what you were before? He really trusted you enough not to try something like this again?

“Trust me, Y/N. Please?” 

Hearing those words, you dropped the knife. 

Immediately, Tim darted forward past Dick to Bruce. Dick was on his knees, catching you as your weight gave in and you collapsed into his arms. 

Unable to stop the tears, you cried into Dick’s chest. “It’s not fair!” 

Running a hand through your hair, Dick held you as you cried. Placing a kiss on the crown of your head, he closed his eyes. 

“I know baby, I know it’s not.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Months passed and true to his word, Dick got you the help you needed without going to Arkham. Your relationship was strained but on the mend. No matter how much he promised it would all be okay, you knew they wouldn’t forget let alone forgive the fact that you tried to kill Tim out of revenge. 

You lost count of how many times you apologized to him and Bruce, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. Not for a while at least. 

Keeping your part of the promise, you sought help professionally at least once a week. Your session that afternoon wasn’t bad, but it was exhausting. Recounting the events of that Halloween to someone again drained all the energy you had left within you.

You were currently standing on the balcony of your apartment when you heard a soft thud behind you. Hearing the sound of light footsteps behind you, you felt a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. 

“Hey, what are you doing up this late?” 

Dick’s voice was tired but laced with worry, worry for you and your sleeping habits. He must have just finished his patrol for the night. 

Placing a hand on his, you smiled softly. It meant a lot that Dick stuck around when anyone else would have left you by this point. You felt a pair of lips brush your cheek before you were pulled back into his hold, warm and safe. 

“I’m okay, Dickie.” you hummed. “Just thinking I guess,” 

You didn’t have to see the look on Dick’s face to know that he was frowning. 

“You should be asleep,” he started. 

“I tried,” 

Dick sighed and rested his head on your shoulder. “I know it’s hard when I’m not there, but you have to try.” 

“Dick please, don’t start this tonight,” you begged, turning to bury your face in his chest. “I don’t have the energy for it.” 

Wrapping his arms around you fully, Dick held you close. The nightmares must have been bad this time if you were refusing to try again without him near you. Placing a kiss on the top of your head, Dick led you inside. 

“Alright, let me just get changed and we can catch some z’s together okay?” 

Nodding slowly, you let go of him but kept a grip on his fingers. The only time you let go of his hand was when he had to pull off his suit. Once he had sweats on, Dick pulled you along to the couch and rested you on top of his chest. 

Slowly you melted into his warmth as he turned on the T.V. letting the old reruns play as you listened to the sound of his heartbeat. 

Now that Dick knew the full story, he could see all the symptoms and signs you gave him from the very beginning. It was surprising how he missed them in the first place, with the way you left things around the place it was almost as if you wanted to be caught before it was too late. 

After a while, he heard the soft sounds of your breath against his bare chest and smiled softly. This was the only way you could sleep, with him next to you. Dick promised he was going to help you, and help is what you were going to get. 

Of course, Dick got the biggest lecture from Bruce, for the millionth time about why we don’t flaunt secret identities around. But Dick knew he could trust you. What he wanted to know was if you could trust him. 

Dick knew that death and loss made people do crazy things, he had been down that path before when his parents died, and again when Jason died. It was a hard one to come back from, but Dick planned on being there for you every step of the way, for as long as you would let him.

@bluejay-the-geek @niggxrette @offendedfishnoises @restwellsoon @littleredwing89

[adashoflavendermelancholy]

Hunting

Ace was acting strange. Stranger than normal for him. Which was saying something about the young man. He walked around the ship like a man on a mission. Looking over his shoulder and around corners. Haruta walked up behind him and he leaped out of the way. Leaving everyone confused as to why. Not that Ace answered any of their questions about it. Even when pops asked him, Ace just brushed it off. “Don’t worry about it.” He would tell them. As if that made things easier.

Then it happened. “Strawhats coming in!” The scout called. Marco looked up. Was it time already?

The strawhats pirates had been at sea for a few years now. They had taken the world by storm with all the antics they got into. From overthrowing a government, to stopping someone from taking over a government, they were in the news. Then everything with Nico Robin came to light. Making her one of the most protected women in the world. No one could touch her, not CP9, not any pirate group. The others monsters on the crew keeping them at bay. Whitebeard wanted to meet this Luffy. Might have even wanted to claim him as a son.

When Luffy finally arrived in the New world, things changed. He charged forward to take on another warlord, Doflamingo. From there, he pissed off Big Mom and Kaido. Taking both take on at the same time. With help from Captain Kid and Captain Law. If what the paper said was true. Then it was off to mess with the world government more. As if the world Government couldn’t hate them more.

Marco figured it was going to happen eventually. That he would set his sights on Whitebeard. Being the strongest man in the world, it only made sense. If Luffy wanted to take that title.

Ace, however, showed on deck. Watching the ship get closer, while hiding around a corner. “What are you doing?” Thatch asked, blinking.

Ace hissed at Thatch, waving his hand to get the other to go away. “SHHHHH!” Not once looking at Thatch. Marco braced himself for a fight and for helping Ace get out of trouble. It wouldn’t do to have him running in only to get killed. Based on how he was acting, that was what they were looking forward to.

“Let me goooo~” a voice whined, as they were close enough to see the people on the Thousand Sunny.

“No, we haven’t met Whitebeard. I’m not letting you get us killed!” Another voice called. When an orange-haired beauty showed up on deck. “Can we come aboard?” She asked, smiling at them.

Marco wanted to tell them to get lost. That there was no way they were getting close to Whitebeard. But it wasn’t his call. “Come on.” Pops called back. His hand resting on his weapon as the air was tense. Ready for anything that happened next?

The beauty opened her mouth when something flew past her. “LUFFY!” She yelled.

Fire lit up the deck. Luffy sliding to a stop as he turned. Ace had booked it around using the fire as a distraction. He barely managed to get to Pop’s chair when two arms wrapped around him.

“GOT YOU!” Luffy yelled. Ace was now trapped. By one of the strongest men in the world right now. No matter how close Ace was to Pops, nothing could be done.

“UGH!” Ace groaned, struggling to get free. “That’s not fair, and you know it!”

“Shshshsh!” Luffy laughed, “You’re just mad you lost first.”

The orange-haired beauty walked over to them. Smiling as she did so. “Sorry Ace. We couldn’t talk him out of it. He kept yelling about tradition.”

“It’s fine. I was planning on losing, anyway.”

“Oh?” Zoro asked, from his ship. He didn’t look intimidating, but neither did Rayleigh. “I thought the first loser had to hunt the others?”

Now the Whitebeards were not only lost but very worried. Just what was going on here. “Son?” Whitebeard asked.

Ace turned to them. “Oh, right? Luffy, Meet Whitebeard. I’ve decided to help him become the king of the pirates and not you.”

Luffy turned to look at Whitebeard. They weren’t sure why Ace was trying to start a fight like this. It wasn’t fair. Luffy looked back at Ace. “Okay, but I’m not gonna lose.” He sounded uncharacteristically stern.

Ace smiled, “That’s fine, because Pops will still beat you!” Luffy laughed.

Robin caught everyone’s attention. “Captain, shouldn’t we start the party? It’s been so long since we last saw your little brother.”

The words catching on everyone’s ear. “YOU’RE FIRE FISTS BROTHER!” The Whitebeards yelled. Not sure if they were shocked because it was Ace or if this made too much sense.

Ace and Luffy, for their part, only laughed at them. The Strawhats knowing the feeling. Having been through this several times already. “Just wait until you find out who else is in this family.” Nami said, thinking about the other top names.

Whitebeard laughed, not sure if this was the best day of his life or not. He worried, secretly, about Strawhat coming for his head. Out of all the pirates in the sea, they were most likely strong enough to kill him. Not that he minded that. Dying in battle would be a good way to go, but what of his sons then? Would they be spared afterward? Or killed. There was no telling with them. Strawhat had left many of the crews that he took down alive. But there were a few that didn’t make it.

Still, the more the merrier. “Strawhat.” He called, making the other look at him. Whitebeard and Luffy stared at each other for a minute. Taking in the other before, Whitebeard smiled. “It’s good to have another son.”

Luffy stared at him, then blinked. A smile taking over his face. “Shshshshsh!” He laughed, not telling anything about what he jsut tried to claim. After all it wasn’t Luffy’s fault that two men felt anger run down their backs. Wanting to fight something for overstepping.

“Pops- “ Ace tried to warn. But it was too late. He was swept away in the crowd. Making it hard for him to tell Pops that Luffy was already taken.

[theapangea]

Two First Dates - Part 1

Chapter Title: The Set Up

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2205

Summary: After hearing about your date with Eddie Munson, Steve decides to finally ask you out. 

Warning: None.

A/N: A series I wrote a while ago but finally moving it over to Tumblr! Enjoy my loves!

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist <3

Today was weirdly peaceful. Normally, Fridays are busy but today seemed oddly quiet. There were no last minute dads getting off of work trying to figure out which children’s movie to rent or a couple wondering what movie would be good background noise for their make out session. 

The day mostly consisted of you and Steve doing your job’s mundane duties. To be honest, it was a little tense between the two of you lately. Nothing in particular stuck out in your mind, but it seemed like Steve didn’t want to talk to you at all. You would notice that his eyes would linger just a bit too long and he would avoid any and all situations that involved talking to you. Something was bugging him and you just decided to leave it at that. 

You spent most of the day rewinding tapes, stocking, and ignoring Steve. He seems to always spend his days the same, trying to get a date. He hasn’t been all that lucky since high school and sometimes you kind of felt bad for him. He would go out with any girl who happened to say yes to his boyish charm yet come in the next day complaining about their horrible date and her horrible kissing.

You didn’t want to hear about Steve's excuse for a dating life. Not because it wasn’t funny as hell to see him struggle to keep a girlfriend, but because you were somewhat jealous of the other girls he would give his attention to. You wouldn’t dare to ever say this outloud, but Steve was definitely someone you have a major crush on. 

If you are a girl from Hawkins, you have had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in your life. Your crush just seemed to never dissipate. 

“You’re really going on a date with Eddie Munson?” Steve basically shouted from behind the counter, pulling you from your mindless thoughts.

You look over the rack of movies in front of you, your hands automatically fixing them as you respond, “What…” you pause for a brief moment, “how did you hear about that?”

“Robin.” He chuckled. He couldn’t believe that you would go on a date with that loser willingly.

“It’s none of your business Steve.” You groan while putting another tape onto the shelf. It was true though, you were going on a date with Eddie Munson tonight but you didn’t want Steve’s opinion about the matter.

“It is when you’re going out with that freak.” He cringes at the thought of you and Eddie Munson actually going on a date. You groan in frustration at his comment. Vowing now to never listen to Steve Harrington ever again. 

You put a couple more tapes on the shelf. You could feel his presence next to you before he states, “I didn’t even think he was your type.” It was almost like he was intentionally trying to stand too close. 

“What exactly do you think my type is Steve?” You questioned. 

Steve instantly stands up a little straighter, pulling his vest down a bit. Clearly indicating that he was your type. Where would he even get that idea? You never said anything to anybody about your crush on Steve. Do you think he knows? Do you think he is playing with you to make you confess that you are in love with him?

“You wish,” you scoff at his inaudible comment and push past him. To be honest, you wished you could build up the courage to tell Steve how you really felt. This whole love-hate friendship thing that has been going on for the past couple of months has been torture. You loved the teasing and the way he would wear that cocky smile after a snarky remark made you want to kiss him even more. But you never got the feeling that he felt the same way.

“Come on, go out with me tonight.” He follows closely behind. His request sends shivers down your spine. The words you always wanted to hear were now being spoken yet at the worst possible time in your life. Fuck Steve Harrington for always having the worst timing. 

“You can’t just now ask me on a date because you know I am going out with Eddie.” You turn around to face hime, pointing out his obvious intentions. “Also, you should ask me out because you want to not because it’s to stop me from dating Eddie.” You add, your eyes meeting his and suddenly his presence feels extremely close.

You can see he was examining your face. Examining what you were actually thinking and wanting to take all of you in. You were standing so close that you could see the same razor scars that lined his chin. You could see the slight emptiness in his eyes and the pressure of growing up too fast. 

Your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to him but never got the chance. Let’s face it, you were so small compared to what he had to offer. You turn back around before he could read too much further into the obvious expression on your face. Your safety behind the counter and computer couldn’t have come quicker. The soft clicking sound of your fingertips typing away filled the small store. 

Steve huffs, his forearms resting on top of the counter, “Y/N, I do want too. Plus you will have way more fun with me anyways.” He adds, his puppy dog eyes tearing a piece of your heart away as you try to stay mad but can’t.

You could feel yourself giggling at his remark. Damn Steve. He had this way of getting under your skin yet also being able to get himself on your good side. He could talk himself into and out of any situation, especially with you. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but instead of actually asking you out on a date he would do anything to stop you from going on them. 

He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the world to view him as. He was lonely and heartbroken. Never fully recovering from dating Nancy Wheeler and never fully recovered from all the rejection since. He went from King Steve of Hawkins High to some unknown dude in the video store. How pathetic, his father always told him. 

But he liked it there, he liked hanging out with Robin…and you. Even though he would never confess actually wanting to hang out with you to your face. You were the reason he wasn’t lonely during the week while Robin was at school. You were the person who laughed at his jokes even if they weren’t that funny. Steve couldn’t believe that he was finally able to ask you out, the only bad part was that you were going on a date with Eddie first. Good job, Steve.

You stop typing for a moment and meet his gaze. His mind was trying to find the right words, any words to save himself.

“Eddie and I have a lot in common, which is why I said yes. Plus he had the guts to actually ask me out.” You confess, your words stinging more than you intended. But you were right, if Steve would have actually asked you out any other time than you would be more than willing to go with him. Hell, he was the one putting you in this situation.

“Fine.” Steve groans, his forehead now resting on the counter. You finally thought that you had won, that he was finally going to leave you alone. You go back to the computer screen, inputting the number on the tape cover.

“But we are going out tomorrow.” He demands. His confidence finally finding its voice. 

You giggle again. How could he be so demanding all the time? How could he just keep asking after you basically said no? “I’m not sure if I’m free.” You pretend to think about his offer when in reality you couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington continued to keep asking you out on a date. You almost had to pinch yourself, really hoping this was not some sort of dream. 

“I know you aren’t.” He wasn’t appeased by the joke, “I am picking you up at 5 tomorrow.” 

“Isn’t that a little early for dinner?” A puzzled look landing on your face.

“5 in the morning, duh.” He clarifies. The smile that formed on his face was unlike any other. You were now this big prize that he has won and he was happy to be able to show you off. The fact that he was finally able to go on a real date with you was amazing and nerve-wrecking.

“Morning?” You repeat as he walks away without another word. Why 5 in the morning? Why in the world would Steve want to even get up that early on a Saturday? You wondered what kind of plans he could possibly have at 5 in the morning. 

It was a little awkward for the rest of your shift together. Steve seemed oddly pleased with himself after your little interaction and you seemed completely torn between these two dates. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you were going on a date with someone who has actually made it clear that he wanted to date you. And on the other hand, you are going to go on a date with the literal man of your dreams. 

In a way, you felt guilty. You felt guilty because it felt like you were dragging Eddie into this situation. You knew in your heart that Steve was the one, but you weren’t completely sure if Steve really felt the same way. He could just really not want you to date Eddie and would do anything to stop it. 

Eddie has been asking you out nonstop since sophomore year of high school and Steve never gave you a second look in high school. Steve was one of your best friends and Eddie was someone you lost touch with after graduation.

You couldn’t make a decision between the two of them. How could you? How could you pick between them? You never thought in your small town life that two very attractive men would try and date you around the same time. 

The neverending thoughts of the next 24 hours and your next two dates made the rest of the day go by quickly. You had barely spoken five words to Steve since he asked you out. You were speechless. Absolutely speechless. 

When the clock struck 6pm and it was finally time to go home. You couldn’t help but to try and high tail it out the door without so much as a goodbye to your coworker. Coworker, that’s all he was. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor like you wanted him to be. He was a coworker that you see often and there's nothing much to it. You tried to remind yourself but it just wasn’t working. 

“You still want a ride home?” Steve calls while locking the doors and before you are out of earshot.

You stop before your feet leave the short sidewalk. Contemplating if you still need the ride home. In reality, you do, that was the reason you asked in the first place. But after today and your mind going thousands of miles per an hour, the last place you wanted to be is stuck in a metal box with Steve.

You turn on your heels, knowing that if he drove you home it would give you more time to get ready for your date with Eddie. “Sure” You huff.

“Don’t act so sad.” He opens the car door for you. 

Most of the car ride was silent to say the least. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But you liked driving with Steve. He’s given you a ride home a couple of times and he’s always so talkative. But today was different, he seemed quiet and distant. The radio hummed lowly but the silence was too much to bear. 

“You can still go out tonight with me instead.” He finally breaks the tension, before putting the car in park in front of your house.

You continue to look forward. You could feel his eyes burning a whole into your head, trying to figure out what is going on in your brain. 

“Steve, drop it.” You look over at him, his sight almost taking your breath away, “Besides what if I like Eddie more and just don’t want to go on the date with you tomorrow?” You snark.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve rebuttals, knowing damn well that he is right. 

The breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you just cannot believe this day. It was so far away from what you expected that you almost don’t believe you are alive right now. You got out of the car not saying another word. The loud bang of the car door echoing for miles.

“Hey,” He shouts, leaning forward over the passenger seat, “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

You try to conceal the smile that has formed. Damn this day, damn the date, and damn Steve Harrington.

~~

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!! <3

[mischiefmaker615]

To Better Use

Rating: R

Summary: Captured, you now find yourself doing anything to protect your comrades. 

You claw at Baron’s wrist as he keeps a firm hand over your mouth while his other holds tight to your wrist pinned behind your back. Your struggling lessened the more you were sure he would break your arm whenever he yanked upon feeling you jerk. Of course you made yourself feel better by telling yourself you merely held back during your capture, he was your friend after all.. was. ‘’she managed to find our location sir, but we’re sure her capture took place before she had the chance to send out a signal.’’ Clint reported as your eyes lift up and widen to find Loki turning towards the both of you with an unreadable look on his face. Or at least, for a moment before what you could read was triumph and hunger as his eyes scanned over your body. Your SHIELD uniform did a good job hugging your figure, something you wished wasn’t existent right now as your struggles began again when he stalked towards you. You had indeed kept the chase up on your own after headquarters sunk into the ground when Loki escaped, and without working equipment, couldn’t risk staying behind with the rest and lose sight of them. Of course, a million of different results popped up in your head on how you could have gone about this differently so you didn’t find yourself before Loki now being held tightly by the friend you used to know and work with. ‘’using your natural blue orbs to blend in with the rest was indeed intelligent on your part, but coming alone was the most foolish thing you could have done.’’ Loki chuckled and flashed his eyes at Barton who understood and uncovered your mouth by relocating his arm across your throat in a hold but didn’t choke you. Taking a deep breath once your airway worked properly again, you dug your nails into Clint’s arm while your eyes glared back at Loki. ‘’you didn’t look much like a threat so I decided to take my chances.’’ You replied with sarcasm dripping in your voice as he merely smirked and placed a finger under your chin, his thumb stroking your skin as he admired your eyes. ‘’Don’t test me Y/N, I can make your life a living hell if I want to.’’ Loki replied, his voice rather calm as his eyes scanned you once more as he seemed to be thinking before his eyes switched to Clint. ‘’take her to the chamber, I shall deal with her myself.’’ Your body tensed at his words but kept your expression almost unreadable as Loki gave you one last smirk before he moved past you to the other fellow agents following under his orders. Before you could question anything, Clint moved forward, pushing his legs and chest against you so it moved you forward with his grip never faltering under your harsh nails you were sure was making him bleed. Dragging you down a few halls and around a handful of corners, he finally released you after shoving you into an extremely small and dimly lit room; with the only thing accompanying the lamp, was a bed. Spinning on your heel to face him, Clint slammed the door shut behind him before you could even try to talk him out of.. whatever spell Loki had him under. This was bad, very bad.. Your eyes scanned for a door other than the one you just came from- a window, a vent perhaps? Nothing.. the only thing you did have currently was the fight to survive and a million things going through your head; first one being, why were you still alive or mind controlled.. Your thoughts didn’t have much time for answers before the door was opened to reveal Loki who wasted no time shutting it behind him and his body noticeably relaxed itself. Trying to take over the world had its stressful moments probably.. “I’m surprised you didn’t try the door darling.’’ Loki smirked as he opened his eyes and turned to face you with a hand going directly to lock the door behind him. ‘’..it was unlocked?’’ you asked, a little surprised honestly as he smirked and took a step towards you in which you offered a step back. ‘’as soon as he left, unless you thought trying the door would be to obvious?’’ he smirked, his hands placed behind his back as if he were observing an unearthly creature. Your eyes flashed him a glare and your posture offered a position where you would try to defend yourself if he tried anything. ‘’did you just come here to make me feel stupid or are you just going to kill me now?’’ you snapped. Loki’s expression softened as he cocked his head to the side in curiosity ‘’kill a fine creature like you? Now wouldn’t that be a great waste of flesh.’’ He chuckled and proceeded to move forward. Your eyes side eyed him as you backed away, your body somehow forgetting your combat skills as you pressed yourself up against the wall before he found himself standing before you. You flinched when he raised his hands but he didn’t hit you, but merely rested his hands against the wall on either side of you, making your blue orbs move to his own questionably. ‘’Afraid I will try to pull something... ungentlemanly? Scandalous perhaps?" he seemed to mock and you gave a slight glare. ‘’why else would you be in my personal space..’’ ‘’you’ve come onto my hideaway, this is all my personal space darling.’’ He smirked and used a finger under your chin to keep you looking at him when you began to look away. Somehow, his gaze seemed to almost make you weak in the knees but.. he didn’t need to know that. ‘’this is not your planet.’’ ‘’ah, so an ambassador i have here’’ he chuckled. ‘’what do you want?’’ you demanded. ‘’oh darling, you know what I want.’’ He smirked. ‘’don’t think I didn’t notice you hiding upon my first arrival to earth. What amazes me the most is how you apparently survived my mild purge. I take it you are grateful he managed to survive.’’ The last part was laced with annoyance in his voice but your look of surprise changed his features. ‘’oh, didn’t stick around long enough to find out? So eager to keep up with me?’’ he smirked and your eyes widened in denial and confusion with your body suddenly feeling small before him. ‘’you.. you knew I was following you?’’ ‘’for quite some time darling, I just thought you’d arrive aster than you had, but I suppose your attempts to blend in took some time before my men finally picked you out.’’ He chuckled. ‘’w-why did you let me follow you?..’’ His chin tilted up slightly with his eyes glued to yours, the silence getting thick as he contemplated a moment before he simply grinned. ‘’It gets awfully lonely in almost an eternity of seclusion.. and a ravishing creature such as yourself needs to be shown the correct way of how to serve and not for these weak mortals..’’ Your back couldn’t have sunk farther into the wall by his words, nor could your eyes have gotten any wider as you came to the realization of what he meant. ‘’..don’t think for one second that I’d ever-‘’ Your words turned into a yelp when he snatched your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up, looking over your face with a mild-serious expression as if inspecting something. Your hands gripped his wrist, a move foolish on your part where he then noticed your trembling and he merely chuckled, eyes softened. ‘’you are shaking way to early darling, but do not fear. Behave and I shall be gentle with you.’’ He said softly and his hand switched to your hair, making you wince and your hands moved to his wrist once more. Once the thought of kicking him struck your mind, he had already shoved you down onto your knees before him, causing you to yelp. ‘’ah ah ah darling, I wouldn’t dare if I were you or I’ll go back on my promise n being gentle. You wouldn’t want your precious comrades getting hurt either would you?’’ he smirked and you glared up at him when he released your hair. ‘’now darling, I will give you a choice. You do it or I will.’’ The last part was a warning tone, somehow making a threat sounding sexy as you glanced in front of you with something catching your eye. His growing erection. Your eyes flashed up at him as he took a seat behind him on the bed, manspreading as you began feeling your limbs ach and shake. Why the hell did you come here alone.. why the hell in another life perhaps you could see yourself wanting this.. why the hell.. ‘’.. I’d rather be mind controlled then do it willingly.’’ You snapped and he merely chuckled as if you told a joke. ‘’you clearly don’t care about the well being of your fellow comrades do you? You saw- what? Dozens out there all under my control and you are telling me you’d carelessly sacrifice all of them all because you don’t wish to take it upon yourself to pleasure your king?’’ ‘’your no kin-‘’ ‘’ill start with Baron first. And I’ll be sure you watch. Every single drop of blood fall as a make his suffering last.’’ Loki said casually, his voice a sigh as if he had no choice but to do the simple chore and that’s what made you stop him. Clearly he showed no emotion or care in killing others, even when he first arrived he didn’t even hesitate.. there was no bluff. He would do it. ignoring the sick feeling in your stomach, you avoided his gaze and eyed his groin, crawling over to him in which you saw his erection twitch by the mere act in doing so. Sitting on the back of your heels, you raised your shaky hands and moved them over his lap to try to find an opening, a zipper, something. You could practically feel him smirk as he made you feel like a fool and in one simple motion, he pulled himself out of his complicated Asgardian attire. By the gods it was huge.. you’ve seen many men before in your lifetime but him.. you truly knew now the difference between a man and a god. Giving a quick glance up at his eyes was a mistake as he gave you a smug and knowing look. Ignoring his cockiness, your eyes moved back to his.. well, more than ready cock as it glistened with slight precum. There was no way you thought you could take it all the way in your mouth but you’d worry about it later as you just told yourself it was all to protect your team. You had to practically use both our hands as you gripped him, feeling his body almost flinch as he sucked in a breath by your touch and you almost seemed to be filled with a sense of power. Despite your situation here, the fact that he was hard because of you, the fact that his breathing and body reacted because of you, it almost made you want to return the smugness back at him. With a good grip on him, you used your hands to stroke him up and down while you leaned more forward to his tip. Taking one last breath, you ran your tongue across the tip and felt him shudder. Keeping your eyes glued to what you were doing, you bent and ran your tongue up his shaft before taking him into your mouth. You took as much as you knew you could handle and your hands cared for the rest and by how much that was, your mouth couldn’t even take half of him. That thought didn’t seem to bother you as it didn’t bother him as you took a quick peak and he was taking deep breaths, his head tilted back with his eyes closed. In that moment, he was the most beautiful being you had even seen.. it almost gave you the main motivation to get you to keep going as you began using your hands to stroke him while your head began to slowly bob up and down. It was hard to concentrate on the positives of why you were doing this in the first place when, to your demies, felt a pool formulate between your legs that almost made you pause. Were.. were you wet? ‘’this is obviously not your first time darling..’’ Loki breathed as he stroked your hair and you almost wanted to hate him. why couldn’t you? You used your tongue to run against him and your throat on the other side of his cock to be what gripped him. most girls you figured spent most of their time trying to be impressive by taking it all in rather than focus on the mere focus of making it feel good. Your knowledge seemed to work on Loki at least as you could hear him let out a breathy moan. Beginning to pick up the pace, you bobbed your head a bit faster while also doing your best to suck on him more. You could feel his leg muscles tighten and you figured he was doing his best not to buck. Hoping what you were doing was just enough, you kept at it before you jumped at the feeling of his fingers in our hair. Starting to pull back a little, his fingers tightened to stop you and took the initiative by pushing your head down more before pulling it back up repeatedly. Trying not to resist so he could understand he didn’t need to force you, it didn’t seem to come across him. hat, or he didn’t care anymore as he began bucking his hips up now to match your throat. With him guiding your head with his fingers in your hair and his hips snapping up, the face now began making your eyes water and your gag reflex to begin to trigger. You remembered a small trick to prevent your gag reflex which was to squeeze your thumb down but his harsh movement canceled that trick out. Panic began filling your chest as you tapped and pushed against his thighs to try to free himself but that just seemed to make him down faster as his heavy breathing and moans filled your ears. The thought of choking to breath flashed in your mind and before you could feel like you’d die if he kept going longer, you felt his cock twitch in your throat and his thrusts slowed. Your eyes widened as your body tensed, feeling hot liquid shooting and running down your throat. Releasing a small whimper, Loki kept your head down and stilled his movement. ‘’you will take all of me little one’’ he growled and didn’t release you until you swallowed every drop. Once you had, he finally released your hair and you fell back onto your rump, taking in generous amounts of air as your hand held your sore throat. ‘’f-fuck you..’’ you croaked, rubbing your neck as your eyes timidly glanced at him and he chuckled, standing up where his hands moved to properly undo his pants. ‘’well what did you think was going to happen next..’’

[rowanisawriter]

15 for present tense please! and 14 for any hades fic of your choosing, whichever makes you bite drywall the most!! <3

thank you babe!! answering these fic writer asks here!

15. Talk about the characters’ struggles & how you decided on those

present tense (bg3, gale/durge, modern AU)

i lifted from canon, my favorite AUs are the ones that stick close to canon that it’s still familiar to the reader. so for this i made gale a dying professor on medical leave, and durge (anara) is an amnesiac ex cultist, so the same struggle as the game with gale’s fall from grace, anara’s struggle to leave her dark past behind her, just placed in a group therapy session instead of with tadpoles lmao

14. Talk about the fic’s opening scene & how you approached it

loop (hades, thanzag, time loop-y)

actually i had a different start for this one than what ended up in the fic, i started the fic with than on a battlefield being told of zagreus’s initial escape attempt by ares, but i ended up cutting it because i thought starting the story inside the actual underworld would keep it in line with the time loop-y nature of the story, where everything happens in the same place with the same people around, it would fit the theme better. the beginning i saved here because it looked good it just didn’t fit into the story lol

[ofgravitation-moved]

                   emi fukukado: the smile hero, miss joke!

** since we have barely any knowledge of emi in canon, she will be very headcanon based. below is what i envision as her past / childhood! credits for help with this go to guiltscorched​ / kit! as it ties in with their aizawa also! subject to change with the manga! but let’s be real, it won’t. **

quirk: outburst. / further information here. ( her wiki is so empty, omg. )

history: emi’s family are a group of entertainers. they run a small party business and her father uses his outburst quirk to have birthday parties for children, office parties, you get the idea. her mother’s quirk just is a small amount of enhanced strength when angered. 

as a young child she grew up in the prefecture near ketsubutsu high. while she loved attending parties with her family, she always aspired to do more with her quirk. and when the time came for high school, emi applied to several different schools, but when she was accepted into ua-- she knew where she was going.

after taking the entrance exam, she was placed into class 1-A, however, as her classes first year progressed, her teachers made an evaluation at mid term: they deemed her unfit to stay in the class due to her grades and her quirk capabilities. emi was placed then into class 1-B-- in the last seat, before the winter break. 

on the train home that year for the holidays, emi didn’t know which was worse: giving the news to her parents, or the fact that she was the only one that knew of the news? it wasn’t a happy holiday. despite her parents encouragement, emi spent her break heartbroken and down trodden. finally, sick of being upset by a decision that was out of her control, she made the best of it: and started to train. she went to the gym each day, ran a mile or two after dinner. when she came back to ua, she wanted the teachers to know they’d made a mistake. 

during the second half of the semester, emi ignored the whispers of her classmates, and mostly kept to herself. she kept training, and sure, she had a few friends she’d talk and hangout with-- but, proving herself was her priority. in her second year, she made a big impression on her first day. she’d trained all break, and gotten a lot stronger, not just physically, either. she’d worked with a therapist who taught her effective measures to use her quirk in tense situations to gain the most momentum with it. 

third year she still maintained a ranking in class 1-B, but she’d blossomed in her years at ua. she was doing internships with heroes and starting to make a name for herself as miss joke. & more than ever, she’d had her eyes set on an old friend when at graduation she learned they were to be sidekicks at the same agency. 

during her time as a student, emi struggled a lot with social acceptance. her quirk wasn’t meant for combat-- and the amount of times she’d heard that from her teachers, it was nearly ingrained into her skull. but she didn’t let their words dissuade her from her dream. she did what was necessary to change their outlook, and they eyes of her peers. socially, with the switching of classes, teenagers would be teenagers. and emi didn’t have many she was close with. the same continued for her into adulthood. 

despite what her quirk could tell you about her, she’s been a very private person for a lot of her life. her quirk allows her enough of a loud presence as miss joke that emi can at times, hide behind it. she’s been alone a lot of her life and leads more of a private life, which is fine, but it makes her dive more into her work. but she does crave the attention of one person who’s always seemed to be the one constant thing in her life: shouta aizawa.

during their time together at the agency they’d both been placed at as sidekicks, emi got to know aizawa all over again. she’s realized over the years that her feelings for him, if anything, had only gotten stronger. odds kept them apart in highschool, and how emi wishes they hadn’t. as all things, aizawa was quick to move onto the next agency-- and just like that, she was alone again. this time, she made sure not to lose touch. while they kept in contact, emi continued her work at the agency, and a few years later, when a teaching position at ketsubutsu opened, she applied-- never looking back. .. maybe it was time for a fresh start? maybe it was time to move on. 

she didn't date, and if she did-- it never lasted. she just continued her hero work, and making lesson plans for her students. just life she put her all into her training, she puts her all into teaching with her class, now. and in her class, there are no transfers allowed. 

occasionally she will sub at ua if someone is out sick or on a longer mission, so she can be seen around campus a lot. or she just drops be to see old friends, perhaps one in particular more so than others.

** emi is not ship exclusive with aizawa’s, but considering her canon is largely based around him, i feel as though he needs to be included! however!! kit’s (guiltscorched ) aizawa is one of her mains! **

[randomnonsensedragonage]

Chevalier No More

Avenie Caron & Jean-Marc Stroud - 1464 words

CW: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Avenie, a trainee at the Academie des Chevaliers, discovers the dark side of the path she's chosen. Then a mysterious Grey Warden offers her a new way forward.

A/N: Slowly working on uploading some of my Ao3 only fics to Tumblr as well. This one was originally published in 2019.

Read on Ao3

“No,” Avenie said. “I won’t allow this.”

Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade. Behind her lay the gates of Val Royeux’s Alienage, and ranged in front of her were several of her fellow trainees at the Academie. Her friends. Or so she’d thought.

“Come off it, Avenie.”

“Allow this? Is she serious?”

“It’s just a bit of fun.”

Avenie gritted her teeth. Chevalier training may have been a lie, but it hadn’t been useless. She was surveying the situation as she’d been taught, looking out for ways to defend herself and get the upper hand if they decided to fight their way past her. The street they were on was open, big enough for fighting, and though many of them were tense as though ready for battle, they seemed caught off guard, not as ready to attack as she was. But the fact remained that it was six against one, and most of them had had more training than her. She might be able to stop one or two of them, but the rest would either overpower her, or simply leave her to fight while they ran to the Alienage. She would have to talk them out of it.

“Attacking elves is not the purpose of our training,” she said, heart racing. “We-we must protect the weak, not prey on them.”

A few of her companions exchanged looks. There were titters. Eyes were rolled. Ariel, the tallest and most charismatic of the group, spoke.

“Avenie, it’s tradition,” he said, voice reasonable. “Practice. Elves today, Orlais’ foes tomorrow. Generations of Chevaliers have done the same.”

“The tradition is wrong,” she said. How could she make them see? She was a fighter, not a diplomat, and her voice shook even if her hands didn’t. She could only think of one more tactic.

“Julien, please.”

He was at the back, almost hidden in the shadows and head hung, but he looked up when she spoke. His black curls framing his face, eyes that same blue that always made her heart pound.

“You cannot agree with this. Please, make them see reason!”

He looked at her, blinked. Then, he looked at the ground. Her heart felt like it would tear into pieces.

Ariel drew his sword, the ring of steel echoing on the quiet street.

“This grows tiresome. Chevaliers, with me!”

Avenie drew her own blade, a noise echoed by the drawing of five others. They ran at her.

Avenie ducked, dodging out of the path of the sword that had been aimed at her chest. She came up and rammed into the nearest attacker’s chest, knocking him back. Someone tried to grab her from behind, and she spun, catching them in the chest with the flat of her sword, then lashing out at fighters to her right, to her left. She spotted Karine, one of the only other women in the group, attempting to get past her, but she leapt to the side and blocked her, at the same time kicking the man who tried to stab her in the side.

Bad idea. He grabbed her leg, pulling her to the ground. Her face hit the dirt, and she struggled to free herself as he dragged her across the dust. With a roar, she twisted, turning herself on to her back and jumping to her feet, knocking Ariel back at the same time. Righting herself, she wiped the blood from her nose, spat out the dirt, and held out her sword. But they were surrounding her, coming from all sides. Ariel’s grin was wolflike, and even Julien’s gaze was intense and cold. She stepped back. She would keep fighting them as long as she could. Even if they killed her, at least she would die defending others.

Then Karine cried out, doubling over in pain. Someone had slashed her in the back, and used the opening to break through the circle surrounding Avenie. A man ran to her side. All she could tell about him in the dark was that he was tall and solidly built, and he had a sword.

“With me,” he said. “We can take them together.”

Avenie nodded, not really having any other choice. He moved so he was at her back, facing those who were behind her. They separated.

Swords clashed in the night. Avenie was taking on Ariel and Julien, the strange man the three others. Karine was nowhere to be seen, must have stumbled off back to the Academie. Avenie hoped this meant she’d learned something.

As she knocked Julien’s blade aside, she glanced over her shoulder at the battle behind her. Though he was outnumbered, the strange man was fighting well, expertly dodging the three trainees’ thrusts and slashes. She saw him knock big Octave aside, slash a wound down his breastplate. The man stumbled and fell.

Before long, the battle was over. Several of her former friends lay on the ground, and the others had run back to the Academie. Avenie wiped her sword and re-sheathed it, noticing that Julien was not among the dead. She felt numb.

“Come on.” The man’s voice. He reached for her wrist, holding her steady. “We ought not to linger here.”

Too exhausted to do anything else, Avenie went with him.

The man’s name was Stroud. He was a serious looking fellow with dark hair and a handlebar mustache. Not the type you’d forget, but Avenie didn’t realize who he was until they were already speaking over drinks at the tavern.

“Jean-Marc Stroud?” she said. “The former Chevalier?” No wonder he had fought so well. “I thought you were exiled from the empire.”

Stroud took a sip of his drink, then shook his head.

“No, not exiled. I left by choice. But I do return from time to time.” His eyes twinkled. “You likely don’t remember, but I was among the Grey Wardens who visited your class at the Academie.”

Avenie did remember. Several weeks back, when they’d been learning how to fight Darkspawn, the Warden Commander had visited along with several others, who’d remained at the back of the hall. Stroud must have been among them.

Stroud set his stein down and wiped foam from his mustache. He was looking at her seriously.

“What are you going to do now?” he said. “You fought with your fellow trainees, and not, from the Academie’s point of view, over a point of honor. Things will be difficult for you after this.”

Avenie nodded. She ran a finger along the rim of her wine glass, but didn't lift it. Her stomach still felt too hollow for drink.

"Do you regret it?” Stroud said.

“No,” Avenie said immediately. “What they were trying to do was wrong. I’m just… disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“In the Chevaliers,” she said. She reached for her glass. Perhaps she needed the alcohol after all. “I thought… I thought Chevaliers fought for others, not just themselves. I thought they protected people.”

“Some do,” Stroud said. “Not all participate in the so-called tradition your friends were emulating. But protection is not a priority of the order.”

Avenie blinked away the blurriness that was starting to obscure her vision. “I… I don’t know what I’m going to do now. But I will not go back. I will not serve an order that places honor so highly above anything else.”

“So, you became a chevalier because you wanted to protect people?”

Avenie nodded.

“And because of that you stood up to your comrades in arms, your friends, even though you knew they might kill you?”

She nodded again.

“May I make a suggestion?” he said. “The Grey Wardens would welcome you as a recruit. Bravery and tenacity are things we admire. Not to mention the desire to protect. And we could use someone with your combat skills.”

Avenie took another sip of her drink, thinking.

“Is the training difficult?”

“Not nearly as difficult as training at the Academie. But it does require sacrifices. Your life won’t be the same after you join.”

“But I could do good.”

“Our purpose is to fight Darkspawn and stop Blights. So, yes, you would be doing good. You would also be able to move much more freely and widely.”

Avenie didn’t answer, so Stroud cleared his throat. “Well, perhaps you should take time to think about it. I’ll be—”

“I’ll do it,” Avenie said.

Stroud blinked. “Really? You’re sure?”

“Yes. I can’t be a chevalier anymore… but as a Grey Warden my skills wouldn’t go to waste. I’ll do it.”

Stroud smiled. He reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome, Avenie Caron,” he said. “The Wardens will be glad to have you. I’ll speak to the training master, and we can go to Commander Clarel in the morning.”

Avenie nodded. A Grey Warden. Somehow it felt right.

[parttimepuff]

Oh no rev has to talk about his extracurricular activities

"Why would Rev talk about his boyfriends?" Beep asked, tilting her head to the side. Her father wore the most deer in the headlights expression at that while his brother visibly and audibly struggled not to laugh. "And girlfriends, too, I guess." She added, almost as an afterthought. "B-beep-" Reverie muttered in hushed tone, trying to stop her. The king snorted. "Snrk. Yeah, ah don't think we need to go into that." Dedede stated, trying to move on for his sake. The Dream Fae, thoroughly embarrassed, had buried his face in his wings, halo burning hotter.

"You never talk about them!! What else do they mean about extracurricular activities!!!" Beep protested regardless. "Beep, I am Begging you-" Reverie pleaded. "You share that kinda stuff with yer kid?" Dedede half asked, half teased, not able to help messing with him just once. "Oh my god, no-" The Dream Fae insisted, despairing. "What? No? He keeps hiding certain memories from me." The Matter explained, miffed about it. "They are private-" Her father defended.

What she'd said caught the penguin's attention more than the banter. "You can look through memories?" Dedede asked. "Yeah, let's stick to that question." Reverie grumbled, wings crossed. "Yeah, but only if he’s not trying to hide them from m-" Beep began, then stopped abruptly, realizing exactly what she was explaining and to who, her eye wide. "…not feeling like either is a welcome topic, huh?" The king guessed. Moving past his embarrassment, the Dream Fae, too, understood what they'd landed on. "A-ah, well…" He tried to think of something to say. "I mean, I didn’t think you wanted to, talk about, that-" The Matter struggled to say. Now it finally dawned on the penguin how she managed the feat. "…ah. Yeah, maybe… maybe not." He mumbled.

A tense silence fell over the room which was broken by knocking from the front door. "Um, can I come back in yet?" The muffled voice of Kirby called in. Reverie wasn't sure if he was relieved by that or not. It might be the worst of the three topics they had now. The king stood up. "Can ah let him back in? Or, well, actually, we can both head out at this point." Dedede offered. "nnnn…" Beep groaned. She couldn't bring herself to decide one way or the other. By no means was she fully used to the hero's presence.

Seeing no one else making a move, Gremlin spoke up "…it's been a long day. I think we could all use a break. We can always meet up to talk more later, right?" He thought, looking around the room for agreement. "Y-yeah." Beep agreed hesitantly. The penguin nodded. "Alright, then. Ah'll see y'all later. And uh…" Dedede paused, looking between the father and daughter, mustering a small smile. "Welcome to Dreamland." He said, turning for the door. The Matter's eye welled up. They'd done it... It wasn't over, but they'd done it.

[springvaletales]

((Session 41 is wrapped!))

Most of the party started off with the reading homework (re: written exposition that had to happen but that I didn’t want to use up session time to work through) bc nobody read it before class. I did the same thing all through high school so I can’t be mad.

Bagelby’s PC had to let go of their dog this past week, so we spent half an hour sharing beloved pet stories to help cheer them up.

“It’s, like, three pages long!”

“Listen, listen, I was on a roll.”

We waffled back and forth for a minute on whether Bagelby would be a wizard or a warlock, but ultimately settled on a wizard.

“Bagel is very much a cash up front kind of guy.”

“I don’t think Bagel even knows what cash is.”

Ena’s Player, to Lex’s Player, to catch her up: “Velenna and the Taker are about to have a custody argument over Michael.”

“Bagel is tripping on slugs while trying to read a book about magic.”

Sir Carl Jaeger moved to sit between Velenna and the Taker to prevent them from fighting.

Ena, just wanting answers: “WHY AM I PURPLE?!”

Velenna, unimpressed: “Because I fucked someone millennia ago and you’re related to them.”

The party, collectively: *gasps in horror*

Ena, sputtering: “Wh-. Why the FUCK did you do that?”

Velenna, glaring: “I’ve often asked myself the same thing.”

Ena went off on Michael, screaming that he had NO right to be throwing a pity party because he didn’t even remember the person whose ghost he was crying over, or her, OR their father, OR their home-. Aaaaand now Ena’s crying, too. Ena’s hair began to flare up more and more as she lost control of her emotions, prompting the Taker to lean back from her on instinct. No-one else in the party knows what to do to calm her down.

“You’ve gone full Ghibli!”

After unloading like a shotgun and leaving Michael speechless, Ena stormed off from the group and tried to leave, but the spell Velenna used to lock off her property won’t let her cross it, so she slumped down against it and cried some more.

The Taker - torn between his two upset children - sent a flower to comfort Ena

“Which crying child needs his attention?”

“This should be an easy answer - there’s only two of them this time.”

Asahi decided to take the lead and asked the two powerful arcane beings if they knew about the “crazy chaos tree growing out of a portal” in the basement of Skaadi’s lost temple.

Both of them grew immediately tense, but not with each other - whatever the “crazy chaos tree” is, it appears to be something they both have heard about.

Thiori is slowly moving away from the party in search of a tree to sit under. He won’t explain why.

Me, to Ena’s Player: “There’s not a single important rock I’ve put in this campaign that you haven’t licked.”

Bagelby spent half an hour showing Velenna his rock collection, and she sat there at listened to him talk the entire time.

Asahi: “You’d be amazed what kind of- THIORI HE’S WANDERING.”

Thiori: *sprints up and tackles Bagelby*

??

Bagelby, listing off all the things he’s stolen in life: “…and the sack I was found in!”

The Party: Excuse me what?

Instead of growing grey hairs when his children worry him, the Taker sheds leaves from his cloak.

Things Sir Carl has done in the last week:

Joined an adventuring party

Lost his squire

Survived a coup

Ridden a dragon

Become a father x2

Stopped a fight between an ancient dragon and an Archfey

Bagelby finally discovered the fate of the lighthouse from the Blackstone City harbor (demolished when the harbor roof caved in) and was utterly distraught.

Bagelby: “Who’s my dad?”

Velenna: .......

Bagelby: …….

Asahi: Are you actually honoring that request?!

Bagelby has not learned who his father is today. Some mysteries, Velenna says, are best solved first-hand.

Bagelby: “I don’t know how to answer that question, so I won’t!”

Asahi’s Player has an actual checklist of questions to ask and I’m struggling to keep all my lore straight.

“Don’t try me - I’ll make your favorite show canon.”

Thiori has finally named his mimic friend - Saoirse - and ransacked the picnic spread for some jerky.

“Everyone else roll perception to see if you notice Thiori feeding his mimic at the picnic.”

The Taker of the Lost can masquerade as a Korok to ‘blend in’.

“Michael and Asahi understand money but think of it on different scales.”

Thiori and Asahi decide to race back to the tavern to ask Bethany Herself for a ride to the palace, and Lex - remembering that she has magical speed candies - jumps up, downs two candies, and does Sonic the Hedgehog proud.

Lex’s speed candies are like Benadryl - you really should only take the recommended dose.

Lex - of course - won the race, and asked Bethany if the ‘Group with Too Many Names’ could have a ride to the palace.

Bethany begrudgingly agreed to ferry the party to the palace on her own way there, provided Velenna agree to supply her with another shipment of Shorthalt’s Classics songbooks for a local bard club in town.

[gie-gie-gie-gie]

little women, ep. 1

When I first watched the trailer for Little Women, I was intrigued by the premise of struggling sisters navigating the mystery around a huge amount of money, and how it changes the lives of these three “little women” in the midst of big people with power, connections, and wealth. It’s not entirely a new concept, but I am such a sucker for kdrama sister portrayals that this was a no-brainer addition to my to watch list.

Sure, one can first get caught with matching the characters and scenarios with the Louisa May Alcott source material (who’s the Jo? the Amy? the Meg? the Laurie? etc.), but by the second half of the first episode, you get the sense of considering the story on its own.

And it’s good. It’s so good! I don’t expect myself to be able to sustain an entire series review, but I’d like to be able to take notes along the way. It feels like it’s going to be a great watch ahead, and I just want to make something out of my excitement. That said, be warned that the series in itself has a lot of violence, which might come up in these recaps, hence the tw tag.

We begin with our three sisters: the Meg, the Jo, and the Amy. Poor Beth, no counterpart in here. Or maybe there’s more we don’t know, because mysterious baby picture, anyone?

Among everyone, it’s Kim Go-eun that I was really looking forward to the most. I have never watched her past dramas, but I’ve been itching to see any of her work, and I felt that this role might just be too good to pass. I love the seeming naïveté of her Meg, whose Cinderella fantasies of getting married and being whisked away from poverty translates fittingly into our series’ Oh In-joo, dowdy green vest and tacky tulle skirt included. At home with her sisters, though, she can be straightforward and determined behind the smiley and meek behavior she shows outside.

When she cried upon seeing the contents of the duffel bag her friend, Jin Hwa-young (played by Choo Ja-hyun), left her, I felt as if we were witnessing only the initial unraveling of her character.

Nam Ji-hyun as Oh In-kyung is also riveting. This is my third Nam Ji-hyun drama and the other two had her as the childhood-friend-and-fated-endgame of a wealthy amnesiac. Here In-kyung is barefaced, buttoned up, but not quite sober. She’s an investigative reporter with a deep empathy for people, and a righteous understanding of the pitfalls of wealth.

I loved her scene with Great Aunt Oh. They’re just having breakfast and talking, but the way this was set up made me wonder if we’re supposed to look at how In-kyung was influenced by her aunt despite not having had the warmest upbringing.

Great Aunt also meddles in her love life, and we see the Laurie for this series, too. It’s Kang Hoon as Ha Jong-ho. When they met each other under aunt’s ruse of bringing a mistakenly delivered package, we understand that there’s history between them. In-kyung is at the tail of a highly tense investigation, and we can wonder how this might affect their relationship as the series moves forward.

I don’t have much to say about Park Ji-hu’s Oh In-hye just yet, except that I can certainly understand her wanting to make her own money after seeing her sisters toil to provide for their family. She’s ambitious and gritty and I cannot help but wonder where the story will take her character, especially with her association with who seems to be Park Jae-sang’s wife and daughter.

Wi Ha-joon is another actor I was excited to see in this series. I thought his character in Romance is a Bonus Book was compelling enough. His role as Cho Do-il is obviously different so I also cannot wait to find out more about him.

It seems orchids is a recurring motif in this show. From trying to google ‘princess of thieves orchid’, I saw some twitter threads on the repeating symbolism of this flower on the show. Since I’m behind watching, I didn’t read too far and suspended spoilers. Anyway… too many orchids. From the orchids in the office in the 14th floor to…

the blue orchid tattoo…

the wallpaper in Hwa-young’s apartment (excellent mirror-threshold blocking, by the way)…

a blue orchid beside her fishtank…

and a blue orchid brooch on the suit of Park Jae-sang (played by Um Ki-joon). Yikes… Personally, I think orchids are also an appropriate motif in a tight environment of power and wealth. Orchids are expensive and requires a lot of precise care.

I cannot wait for the sisters to tie up the associations together. The context surrounding Hwa-young’s death becomes even more sinister in light of In-kyung’s investigation on the four money-related suicides from the Bobae Savings Bank Case.

Finally, what will In-joo do with the money that landed on her via yoga locker? Director Shin Hyeon-Min is after the slush fund, and it seems In-joo is in it now, too. Not to mention, she signed an account opening form for Hwa-young, so it seems like the money in the bag is not all there is to it.

[sukirichi]

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz 

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist ! 

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

[randomwriting-misc]

Endangered | Chapter Eleven

Paul Lahote x OFC

Endangered Masterlist

Summary: Vampires and wolves are not the only supernatural creatures to walk the earth, and they are certainly not the only ones in Forks, Washington when Charlotte Annabeth Swan, “Anna”, moves in with her uncle after the unfortunate demise of her parents.

Some may misidentify her as a witch, but that’s fine, she would rather them think that anyway. But the Volturi know the truth, and they are closing in on her.

December

December 16th

“This is past the point of ridiculous,” Paul says as I drift off on his shoulder for the second time. We are sitting in the living room of his house, a movie playing lightly in the background, one that I am struggling to pay attention to as I am snuggled into him. It’s a comfort so natural I don’t even realize I am falling asleep until I am awakened by Paul.

“The nightmares were bad last night,” I say groggily. Paul’s face is hard, and I already know what’s coming before he says it.

“They aren’t YOUR nightmares, Anna,” he tenses, voice harsh.  

“They feel like it sometimes,” I admit.

I can’t pinpoint what was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but Paul is over Bella’s mood. Maybe it was when I was so sleep-deprived, that I sobbed into his shoulder after school, unable to focus on anything as exhaustion took over my body. Maybe it was when I fell into such a deep sleep, he couldn’t wake me up, which terrified him. Whatever it was, he wanted it to end.

“She’s being selfish,” he hisses.

“Don’t say that.”

“She’s been ignoring everyone for months, and you are bending over backward to make sure nothing happens to her.”

I still hadn’t told him about the Volturi, that it wasn’t just about protecting Bella and Charlie anymore. It was about avoiding being hunted down. I knew it would just add fuel to the fire. The boys were already working themselves to the bone, just the three of them.

I also hadn’t told him about everything my parents left me in their will. It was still overwhelming, and Charlie and I had yet to go through all of the paperwork, but the assets and money alone were insane to think about. I never really thought about how old my mother was, not after she started aging normally with my dad, but it was old enough to have a great amount of wealth apparently.

“I think Charlie sees how bad she’s getting,” I provide, hoping that will quell his anger.

“It’s been bad, Charlie has been suffering too.”

“I’ll talk to him, okay? Get her help,” I say, hoping to move on.

“Or a psychiatric hospital.”

I flick his arm, “Seriously Paul, don’t say that about her. She’s family.”

He tsks and leans back on the couch, this time staying silent as I drift off. Before I am lulled off completely, I feel Paul kiss my temple tenderly.

I smile softly, he can never keep up the asshole schtick for long.

----------------------------------------------------

December 21st

After months of practice, my magic felt easier now, more natural. I had pretty good control of it, even fire was less terrifying than before. I got to use my abilities around the pack and Elders more as I trusted more people to know. If they could keep the boy’s secret, I knew they could keep mine. Slowly, I started speaking to individuals about it, and most reacted with a simple nod and a smile. Harry jokingly named me the official fire starter for the meetings.

Kim had been the first one we clued into my abilities. The girl had fallen into our routine well. It was often that Emily, Kim, and I found ourselves together as our respective partners roamed the woods. Another hiker had gone missing, and we had a sinking feeling they wouldn’t be able to find them alive.

She handled it in stride, just like she had Jared’s shifting. She didn’t ask too many questions, which was a relief. Most of the tribe had the notion of “less is more,” when it came to me and my nature.

All except for Billy Black. He asked more questions than even Sam did in the beginning. Knowing my father and mother personally, he drilled into me one council meeting. It took a promise to come over to his house the next day to quell his curiosity for the time being.

That’s where I found myself now, staring at the front door of the Black house, hesitant to knock in case Jacob would be the one to answer it. Our friendship was tentative still.

Taking a deep breath, I knock. To my relief, Billy answers.

With a smile, I greet him, “Hey Billy.”

“Anna, come on in. I made coffee.”

“You know the way to my heart,” I joke, following him to the dining room table. Two cups already sat in the middle. I sit down, holding the mug for warmth.

“Is Jake…”

“Out with friends,” he says, and I nod. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he begins to speak again.

“So, Will and Aurelia… they left Forks for a reason?”

“I can only assume so, they didn’t really talk much about it in detail, at least not to me.”

“What was she?”

I flinch, “Faerie.” I say simply. Billy just nods.

“I guess that makes sense, there was always a feeling around her, something not quite human, at least in the beginning. I thought I was just paranoid, especially when I stopped feeling that sense so strongly.”

“She gave it up to be with him,” I say, “When she got pregnant, they told me they were worried about vampires, she might not register as a Fae creature as strongly, but I would. That’s why they moved.”

“Anna, I hate to ask this but, do you know how they died?”

“The official report is a break-in gone wrong. But… I was the one who found them,” I choke, tears welling in my eyes, this was a detail I don’t talk about, with anyone really, “It looked like a massacre. I don’t think whoever was responsible was human.”

Billy grasps my hand on the table for support as a stray tear falls down my face.

“My mom thought it would be safe here, I don’t think she knew about the Cullen’s”

“She didn’t, they only moved back a few years ago. Until Sam shifted, we weren’t entirely sure that the stories were just that, stories,” he solemnly says, “I wish I had known, to warn them.”

Something in me breaks as the weight of the situation falls onto my shoulders.

“There’s something else, about their murders, but you can’t tell anyone yet, not even Paul.”

Billy gives me a skeptical glance but nods.

“I think the people that killed them, the vampires, were a group called the Volturi. They are some weird leaders in their world, who are old enough to remember the Fae. My mom was trying to through them off our scent, but I think they caught her up to her. I’m worried they will eventually catch up to me. I wasn’t home that night, but unless they didn’t go through the house, they know another person lived there.”

“You know we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s the thing, Billy… if it comes downs to them tracking me here. I don’t think you or anyone else should try to protect me. It’s not worth losing the lives of many just for mine. Especially the boys, I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask that.”

“Anna, you are a part of us now.”

“I know you all have welcomed me with open arms, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died for me. I can’t. It’s not my right to expect that of you all.”

Billy’s lips are pressed in a tight line, and I can see he is struggling not to argue. In the end, he gives a curt nod.

“This seems like a conversation we should all be a part of, and we will have. But for now, we can table it. I would still like to talk about Will and Aurelia a bit, I have plenty of embarrassing stories about your father for you if you like to hear them.”

I wipe the tears away from my cheeks, happy for the break, “I would love that.”

-------------------------------------------------------

December 28th

I walk into the house after spending the day with Angela and Jessica. Over Christmas, they had gotten some money and gift cards and wanted to go shopping in Port Angeles before school started up again. Charlie’s car is gone, so I knew it was going to a “fend for yourself” night. Paul was with Sam and Jared, so I was alone for the first time in a few weeks. Throwing my keys onto the entryway table, I turn and jump to see Bella sitting on the couch.

She’s wrapped in a blanket, with deep bags under her eyes and sullen cheeks. She seems dim. The life and color sucked out of her. The tv is off, there’s no book in her hand, and she is just staring, eyes glazed over.

I take a breath to prepare myself and step into the living room, she doesn’t even look at me.

“Mind if I sit?”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even acknowledge me. I sit next to her, and she does something that surprises me. She moves the blanket to cover me as well.

Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her in a hug, instead of pulling away, she leans into me, her head on my shoulder.

I rub circles on her back and brush her hair back. It’s not until I feel wetness on my shirt that I realize silent tears are falling from her eyes. A deep sigh releases from me, but I don’t say anything.

We stay like that for a while, Bella is desperate for connection, and I’m desperate to have her back. Exhaustion takes over her, and I gently move her, so her head is laying on my lap before I fall asleep too.

Bella does not wake up that night.

------------------------------------------------------------

December 31st

“Have I ever told you that I hate the cold,” I say wrapping a blanket closer around me as I sit on the edge of Sam’s truck bed. The beach is frigid, especially at night, and would normally be empty, but everyone is out preparing for New Year’s fireworks. We all brought pillows and blankets and chairs to watch them all together, turning the bed of a truck into somewhat of a pillow fort.

“Yes, my love, you’ve told me every day since the snow started to stick,” Paul says adjusting the beanie on my head, so it covers my ears. I press my cheek into his warm hand. He smiles at me, laughing at the number of layers I have on.

“There’s too much snow,” I mutter.

“It’s normal for this time of year.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m not doing any more outdoor activities until it’s at least 70 degrees. You can tell Emily.”

“So, I guess we will see you in May?” He lightly taps my nose and I pretend to try and bite him.

“May! Jesus, I miss when my winter was a cool 50 degrees,” I groan.

“You know there’s a simple solution here,” Paul smirks.

“Don’t say it.” I point a gloved finger at him. He throws his hands up like he’s innocent. I had convinced him to at least try and blend in, with a hoodie and jeans on instead of his usual cut-offs. I would be stealing the hoodie later tonight. The one I was wearing now was already too cold.

“What’s the point of having a supernaturally warm boyfriend if you don’t take advantage of it.” He jumps onto the bed of the truck and slips behind me. He removes the blanket around me, ignoring my cry. He put it around him to get closer to me, wrapping my back up, this time in his arms. I lean into him as he peppers kisses on the side of my face, arms squeezing me close.

“Because you get handsy,” I point out as fingertips lightly lift my hoodie and graze over my skin, leaving goosebumps.

“I do not.”

I give him a look.

“Okay maybe a little,” he gives, “I can’t help it, I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately. I’ll be happy when we catch the leech killing all of the hikers.”

“I will too, I miss you,” I say kissing the back of his hand.

“I miss you too.”

The moment is interrupted by Jared jumping over the side of the truck with a bang, followed by him is Kim, who he lifts up easily.  

“Okay love birds, break it up,” he says, and I roll my eyes.

“Big talk from the biggest sap here,” I joke.

“No, that title still goes to Paul, you should hear him, all night it’s “I miss Anna, I hope Anna is okay, Oh, I wonder what Anna is doing right now.” It’s incessant-“

Paul throws a pillow at him to shut him up, but I’m already laughing.

“Cute,” I whisper to him, and a blush creeps up onto his face.

“Ready for fireworks?” Sam says, walking up to the truck hand in hand with Emily.

“I’m ready for a space heater,” I groan. Emily laughs at me.

“My poor girl, you’ll acclimate eventually," she says tenderly.

“Honestly, I don’t want to, out of spite really. It is a crime for this to be normal weather. One day I’ll take you all to one of the places I grew up, you’ll see then.”

“Looking forward to it,” Paul says into my ear, his head leaning on my shoulder. Even through about four layers of clothing, he really is helping with the cold. His arms are still around my waist, hands resting on my hips.

We all settle into comfortable positions, Paul and I move so he is leaning against the back wall, with me still in between his legs. Jared and Kim have taken our place on the edge, sitting side by side. Emily and Sam sit in the chairs they brought, Sam playing with the ring on Emily’s left hand.

“Any New Year Resolutions?” I ask Paul, who thinks for a moment very seriously.

“Keep you safe, spend more time with you, figure out if there’s ever an end to all this,” he shrugs.

The confession weighs more than he lets on, you can feel longing from him. Tuning in a little more to the connection, you feel a bit of fear and a lot of weariness.

I turn to face him and place a hand on his face, “I’m sure there is an end. You deserve an end. To do whatever you want.”

“We don’t all get what we want though do we?”

I sigh, “Maybe not, but we can figure out what we want together. Maybe it’ll be easier that way.”

“Everything is easier with you.” He meets my gaze earnestly. I smile softly. It pulls on my heartstrings when he is so sincere like this.

“Well, there you go.”

“What about you?” He asks, and it takes me a moment to think.

“I hadn’t really thought too hard about it, but they are probably the same as yours.”

I don’t know how well he believes me, but before he can say anything, murmurs of the countdown to midnight begin, and his attention is pulled away from me.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!

As the fireworks begin, I pull Paul into a kiss, it’s a little desperate. I kiss him like it might be the last time, even though I know it won’t be. He matches my intensity as his hand holds the nape of my neck, the other wrapping around my waist to pull me onto his lap. My hands travel up to his neck and face, and I try my hardest to enjoy this feeling, committing it to memory.

The one true thought I have about the next year screaming in my head.

Stay alive.

Tagllist: @abaker74 @adaydreamaway08 @forkscult @eat-cake @sapphireplums @xcastawayherosx @smol-scream @sunsetevergreen @flacalatke

AN: If there is a strikethrough I was unable to tag :(