#THIS IS SO OLD SORRY FOR THE WAIT SEN

[aubins]

i think you'll be doing the running, if anyone. but yuri swallows that, rolls their eyes in good humor all the while. bernadetta can have it for tonight, sure; they're more than happy to concede. “yes, yes,” comes their dry drawl. “get me to clean up after you. very cute.”

but no matter how they complain, yuri always eats the food she plops onto their plate. and they'll chase off any scoundrel that dares lay a hand on her too. whatever she asks of them, whenever she wants. how could they refuse her?

penance. this is their penance, they excuse, for the knife they'd put to her throat. otherwise, why would the savage mockingbird even bother to be half as compliant?

(it's too honest to admit to even themself that maybe they just like to indulge her.)

“mhm.” their voice is thick with amusement. still, they let her have this too. just for tonight, they'll let her have whatever she wants. “yep,” is the affirmation repeated with a stifled laugh, “all yours, bernadetta. congratulations, you've struck the yuri leclerc silly.”

not that it's hard—not for her. she is endearing to them, always, in a way that reminds them distantly of the innocence of their youth. before blood had been spilled in the garden, they had simply been jules and bernie. and, really, it had been simple.

life is no longer so simple, but here is yuri and bernadetta all the same. laughing and teasing beneath the stars—perhaps they're still the same ones they'd gazed upon all those years ago. her time is worth their whole fortune and then some to them, doesn't she know?

and so, yuri thinks, for the ethereal ball they'd missed because of their expulsion, this one makes up the difference in spades. what would it have mattered anyway had they been there all those years ago? there hadn't been anyone important. no one that they would have sought out and asked to dance. this is almost too good to be true.

their arms tighten around her, just a fraction. too good to be true. because tomorrow, yuri will disappear into the shadows of abyss again, and bernadetta cannot follow. like a fairytale princess that must vanish at the stroke of midnight, that is how it will always be. there is no dancing and laughing and making merry for people like yuri—this evening is the fantasy.

but it is not tomorrow yet. and yuri is exceedingly selfish. so tonight they are a wolf in sheep's clothing, enjoying the stars they so rarely get to see and the company they so rarely get to indulge in. tonight they are just one of many students in attendance at the ethereal ball, laughing and chatting and asking their friends to dance—and that will be fine; that will be enough.

(is it really? it has to be.) you see, yuri leclerc is very good at playing pretend.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　—　𝒇𝒊𝒏.

always, she forgives them. always.

it will never change. if yuri were to warn her about them, too, of course she would throw caution to the wind, no matter how much she has clung to it for her whole life, no matter how much of a disadvantage she suffers without it. bernadetta wonders if they ever underestimate just how adamant she is about her exceptions; and yuri, they are the very first exception to begin with.

"well, you'll be happy to know that bernie doesn't say that to just anyone! what do you take me for, huh?" she huffs, and again, with no real bite. never any real bite. not with yuri. "besides! if bernie ever runs into a scoundrel, give them five seconds with her and she's sure to run them off..."

because she thinks herself that unpleasant, at least. though, she trails off in a short beat of contemplation before smiling that same silly way she does when scooping her least favorite foods onto yuri's plate. "heh, or i can get you to do it!"

the smug smile doesn't last. she never stood a chance. yuri is just nice enough to play along with her, and by the time her moment is up, they've got her close enough for her to feel the gentle rumble of their throat when they speak. the motion wrangles the tiniest squeak out of bernadetta, her hands flying up to brace herself against their chest.

to say that her heart leaps is a gross understatement. it runs a marathon in a flash and overclocks before she knows it, pumping blood to her face in a way she hasn't known in ages. her streak of confidence is up and the devil has come to collect. double. yuri's chin is perched right on her head, right on her ugly hair, and her breath catches again for the millionth time that night. funny how they can pull out the dramatics about something that is deathly spot on for bernadetta herself. funny how it terrifies her, but she overcomes her body's stutter to ease into their arms anyway.

(always, she forgives them.)

"i... y-you...!" isn't she eloquent? and to hide her steaming face she manages to bury it into their neck. "if you can't beat that... i-it's just bernie's win, then, isn't it? yep." not really. she wishes she had that kind of sway, but she hasn't got a lick of charm to her name. she has to face it, and does. at least yuri plays along, bad as it is for her own heart. just for tonight, she gingerly lets her arms wrap around them, too.

"yeah," bernadetta concurs again in a murmur, something soft tugging at her lips. it cannot be called stealing when she willingly gives it—so despite how little it is worth, yuri can have all of the time she has. always.

[emmyrosee]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a modern!au sukuna x fem!reader in which they're dating and they're babysitting little yuji for the day, going to the park, grocery store, or whatever, and some old lady thinks yuji is their son and sukuna and reader had yuji as teens so she starts judging, making comments and kinda insulting them for having a kid so young. (but yuji is just sukuna's little brother)

I hope what I said made sens 😅 and feel totally free to ignore my request if you don't want to do it or if you're not taking requests at the moment :)

tw// mean old ladies, insinuations of s3x in teenage years, sukuna talking back, lots of swearing, mentions of death, I wouldn’t normally put warnings but juuuuuuuuuust in case

There’s a scoff that rings out in the air as the last of your footstep passes her. It’s enough to make Sukuna stop on impact. You turn to him, and Yuuji in his stroller looks up to see what the stop is, but Sukuna’s eyes are firm in annoyance, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, spinning on his heel. “Is there a problem, maam?” His voice dribbles sarcasm, and you feel your heart rate pick up from anxiety.

When you turn to face the old woman, her face is twisted in judgement, wrinkles furrowed deeper than natural as she glares past Sukuna and burrows her sights onto you. A chill shrills down your spine as her cold gaze fixes on you.

“Babies having babies,” she snarls cruelly, and you see Sukuna’s knuckles lighten from the force of gripping the handles. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you couldn’t close your legs, hmm? Reproducing when you shouldn’t be. You ought to be embarrassed.”

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but when you look up at sukuna again, his grin is curled devilishly. You sigh, “sukuna, come on-“

“No,” he hisses. “I want to hear what the crypt keeper’s gotta say. One foot in the grave, one on a fucking oil spill and you’re wasting your breath spilling bullshit? You oughta be embarrassed.”

She clutches her chest in offense, “I can’t stand you youths these days, wasting your life on each other, disappointing your parents. Why they’d ever approve of you keeping that sin in the carriage is ridiculous.”

You’re quick to grab Sukuna’s collar and keep him from launching at the lady. He’s not happy about being stopped, he’s practically frothing at the mouth in rage, but at your grip, he stands down.

His mouth however, does not.

“I’m offended people like you even get to breathe my air,” he snarls, and you try to ignore the look the old lady gives you- she looks almost prideful to be getting such a reaction. “That child is not sin, that’s my fucking little brother- and even if it was, if you looked at him and the first thing you thought of was my girlfriend and I smashing, you need to tell your fucking hospice nurse, you pervert.”

“Sukuna-“

“It’s not my fault nor concern that your husband died from an asthma attack your dusty old pussy gave him, but if you ask me, he dodged a fucking bullet because holy fuck if I had to spend my days waiting for you to die first, I’d pull the plug myself.”

“Sukuna!”

“You think you get to sit here and judge my girlfriend, my self, my fucking brother without consequence, you are sadly mistaken. And I sincerely hope that, with the bottom of my soul, that when your decrepit heart finally decides to stop and bless the world by taking your life, no one bats an eye. If this is how you treat strangers with a child, I would love to see how you treat your loved ones. Sit on it and fucking twist, you old bitch.” Then, he flashes her a smile, “have the day you fucking deserve, you twat.”

The woman stares at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You also, stare at him with wide eyes and an agape jaw, and it isn’t until he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to push the carriage again, that you follow.

“Sukuna,” you say, voice shaky. “Why…?”

“Because no one gets to look at my fucking family in any way other than damn respect,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip from anger. “No one.”

“No, I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why do people feel the need to be so cruel?”

“The world is cruel,” he says flatly. Then, he sighs and shakes his head, “but I have no issue in putting terrible people in their place. Especially for yuuji. Especially for you.”

You smile softly and lay your hand on his, lacing your fingers with his as they rest on your hip, “we’re lucky to have you then, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, “it’s about time you appreciate it.”

[lieutnt]

a commission for @chxrrylime

beta/alpha!male reader x omega!john price x omega!simon "ghost" riley summary: price and ghost help you with your first rut after your sudden change from a beta to an alpha. warnings: nsfw, minors dni. omegaverse, brief illness, threesome, knotting, creampies. sorry for the delay on this! had it like 80% written by saturday and then i had a time the next few days. i got carried away with the word count so oops.

Price was normally resistant to others being assigned to his task force, but when your file found its way on his desk curiosity got the better of him. Not just because you were a Beta, although that did help his willingness to accept you, but because you filled a hole in the team. Your skills and training had rounded out the task force, being a Beta was an added bonus. 

There was still lingering doubt in Price’s mind, but weeks after you had joined and Gaz went into heat you offered to help. You had been the perfect carer - staying with him the entire time and making sure he was fed, hydrated and happy. Afterwards Gaz had privately gushed about you to the rest of the 141, unable to think of a time when his heat had gone so smoothly. You had repeated the process with Soap and Price, both getting to experience your gentle touch first hand, and even Ghost had let you help him.

After months of working with the team Price had begun to notice some changes in your behaviour. You were more on edge when the 141 worked with other soldiers, hesitating to leave them alone if an Alpha was in the room. He picked up on you offering the others food from your own plate if they complained they were still hungry, despite the fact that you’d barely even finished half of yours. You even began developing a stronger scent, something different from when you had first joined.

Worry filled his mind when one day Gaz & Soap had barged into his office, panicking about how they couldn’t wake you. Once Price had joined them in running to your room he was immediately calling for a medic, your body covered in a sheen of sweat, barely responsive to their attempts at rousing you. They each took their turns pacing outside your room once you had been taken to a hospital, the doctor’s unsure what was happening to you. You had stayed like that for days, a fever wracking your body and unconscious as change forced its way through your veins.

Price had been elated when he received the phone call that you were awake, but once the 141 had gathered at the hospital they were ushered into a separate room before they could see you. A doctor was already waiting for them, a look of concern on her face. 

An Alpha. They couldn’t wrap their head around it, you had changed into an Alpha. The doctor had tried to explain how in very rare cases something like this can happen but they were too shocked to absorb anything she was explaining. Soap & Gaz appeared unbothered, more concerned with wanting to see you but one look between Price and Ghost and they knew they were thinking similarly.

Filing into your room they were hit with a wave of pheromones you didn’t know you were releasing, a deep down part of them stirring when your scent immediately turned relaxed at seeing them, Soap and Gaz not hesitating to give you hugs as Ghost lingered on the outside of the group while Price simply placed a hand on your shoulder, “It’s good to see you lad,” he said, attempting to bury the worry threading through his mind.

The doctors advised you be taken back to your home base so that’s what they did, alongside the thought that they’d have to explain certain things to you. You weren’t dumb - you knew how Alphas worked, but knowing and doing were two very different things. You had to rely on someone else telling you when you were stinking up the room with Alpha smell, or when you easily slipped back into your old routine except this time it appeared more like courting than caring, and Price and Ghost, as the most experienced, could see how your new heightened senses were weighing on you, struggling in the presence of four omegas.

—

Waking up you were confused at your state, your senses acting as if they had a personal vendetta against you, and you were even more confused when Gaz had taken one look at you and escorted you back to your room as if you were a scared animal, telling you to sit while he fetched Price. 15 minutes later Price and Ghost stepped through your door, shutting it behind them as Price sat next to you. “Do you know what’s happening lad?”

You didn’t know, brain struggling to conjure up any ideas without being distracted by the smell of omega. Swallowing heavily, you shook your head, “No sir.”

Ghost spoke up, “Think you’re going into rut.” He remained leaning against the wall, gaze locked on you.

Brows furrowing you used what brain power you had left to think it over. It matched with the experiences you had heard from other Alphas, but- “I don’t have anything prepared,” you mumbled, brain ticking with what would follow the next few days.

Price had a faint smile on his face, hand resting on your shoulder for reassurance. “We know, which is why, if you want, we think it’s our turn to help you.”

The air sharpened with arousal and you heard Ghost’s faint scoff of laughter, “Think he likes that idea, boss.”

Price’s hand slid from your shoulder to around the back of your neck, forcing you to turn your head and face him. “Only if you want,” he reiterated, thumb gently stroking the back of your neck.

Blood was already pooling south, your cock twitching in its confines at the idea of having them both underneath you. You didn’t realise you had been thinking about it for so long until Price briefly tightened his grip, bringing you back to the present. Nodding your head eagerly, your eyes flicked between Price and Ghost, “Please.”

—

Sinking into Ghost’s hole felt nothing short of heavenly, the warmth of his walls pulsing to ease your way in and steadily melting your brain, your mouth dropping open to release an airy moan once you were buried as deep as you could go. Just enough awareness was flickering behind your eyes to start slow, gently rocking your hips while Ghost adjusted to the stretch of your cock. 

Price was by your side, cautiously watching your movements to make sure you didn’t go too rough before Ghost was ready. As soon as your hips punched forwards unexpectedly Price was slanting his mouth against yours, distracting you from your impatience as Ghost grunted from the force. The smell of not one but two aroused omegas had your alpha preening, deepening the kiss with Price and lowly growling as your hand encased the back of his head to hold him close, only parting when Ghost began to roll his hips back and forth.

Your hands fell to Ghost’s hips, guiding his movements as each of your thrusts grew faster and harder until skin was slapping against skin, vision tunnelling as your pupils dilated, only focused on the omega around your cock and the breed, mate, instinct that was swirling in your mind.

Pushing Ghost down you surged over him, covering his body with yours as your teeth skated across his back, barely resisting the temptation to bite and mark him, to let the world know who he belonged to, whose bed he was warming. Price was by your side again, kissing at your neck and shushing your half-growls, attempting to soothe the possessive claim. His hands ran across your body, one stroking through your hair while the other never stopped moving, letting you know he was there.

Your pace never faltered, even as Ghost began warning you he was close, cock bobbing against his stomach at your thrusts while his moans grew faster and faster until his body seized, muscles trembling as he painted the bed under him with his release. Once out of the floating of his climax Ghost could feel the beginnings of your knot catching on his rim, the bulb steadily growing with each of your frantic thrusts as his knees buckled, sending him flat against the bed as the tension thrumming through your body finally snapped, knot punching its way past his rim and locking you together.

It was like a dam had burst, his insides flooded with your cum as your hips stuttered, a chest rattling growl crawling its way out of your throat. Despite the fact that you couldn’t thrust you instead grinded against Ghost, cock twitching with each pulse of cum that his fluttering walls milked from you. After a lifetime of minutely jerking your hips you finally slumped against Ghost, growls replaced with heavy breaths and a rumbling purr as you rolled to your side, bringing Ghost with you and hugging him to your chest. Burrowing your nose into the back of his neck your alpha was temporarily satiated at your scent mixing with Ghost’s.

Faintly, you heard Price speak up. “You ok Simon?”

Ghost was breathing as heavily as you, voice hoarse and dry, “Mhm, just-” he gasped almost silently as your hips twitched, knot tugging against his rim, “full,” he huffed, bearing his teeth as you began to grow restless.

Price’s attention quickly switched to you, hand wiping the sweat-coated hair off your forehead, “What’s the matter lad?” After attempting and failing to pull out of Ghost your hand hurried downwards, finger prodding at his tightened rim until it could push inside and separate you enough to pull your knot out. As much as you wanted to lean down and tongue your cum back into his hole your brain had other ideas, body surging up to Price and licking into his mouth while you pushed him onto his back, pupils blown wide.

Price watched curiously as you nipped down his throat and chest, “Gotta breed you,” you slurred, eyes half-lidded and cock hard and ready between your legs. He released a steadying breath, hole twitching at your eagerness.

His head rolled back on his shoulders as two of your fingers poked at his entrance, easily sliding in with the preparation you had done earlier and the mixture of his own slick. Before you could get too lost and overstimulate him and yourself Price pulled you back up to his lips with a hand in your hair, ignoring the noise of discontent you made and kissing you again, reaching down to align your tip with his hole. If it was another time and place he would’ve laughed at how easily you crumbled, but as your cock slipped inside him he groaned against your mouth, letting his body rock with your thrusts.

—

When Price and Ghost first emerged from your room once your rut was over Soap and Gaz tried their best to look unfazed, pointedly ignoring the way they were both stretching out sore muscles. “He ok?” Gaz asked, eyes attempting to search for you and noticing your absence.

Price nodded, “Just showering.”

Always the bolder of the two Soap couldn’t help but question, “How was it?” At Gaz’s pointed look he shrugged, “As if ye weren’t wonderin’.”

Price huffed amusingly, fingers scratching through his sideburns, “Think we’ll have our hands full with him.”

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

The Senator from Montana

CHAPTER FIFTHTEEN: On the Campaign Trail

Featuring Sen. Jon Tester

When the big old man got out of the big black Chevy Suburban with a small group of who I thought were sales people, the old man got my full attention. I even moved closer to my big front picture window in order to get a better view of him. The old man could have stepped straight out of one of my wet dreams! And as he walked toward the adjacent house, I started drooling as he had a sexually hungry aura about him.

He was burly and lumbered up the drive way as the other three followed closely behind. As he came in full view of my front window, he looked directly at me. Caught gawking at him, I blushed. His handsome face broke into a smile as they walked to the house next door. I thought I recognized him but couldn't place the face. I was so excited that I set down in my favorite overstuffed chair which just happened to face the house’s big picture window, then as I recalled how handsome man was, what he might be into sexually, I jacked off into my hand. And as I filled my hand with cum, I couldn’t help but wish that it was the old man’s cum being pumped into my palm.

I guess I would have just ignored the knocking but it didn't stop. Finally, I answered the door, buck-naked. I was surprised to see it was our US senator, Jon Tester, knocking on doors and talking with voters in every corner of Montana. Opening the door just wide enough to peek out, not wanting him to see that I was naked and with a roaring hard on. I've seen him on television before and thought he was a big guy in his late sixties, but he looked bigger standing in front of me. And drop dead gorgeous in person too.

“Hello. I'm your senator, Jon Tester.” The senator said as he reached over and greeted me with a firm handshake with his meaty paw.

“Hello. Sam ‘s my name, sir.” I responded not knowing what else to say.

“There’s so much at stake for Montanans this election, and I'm counting on folks to step up to help me win in 2024.” As he spoke, he looked me directly in the eyes. I found myself admiring his blue eyes as I opened the door wider.

He glanced down at my hard cock and smiled, “Looks like you were doing something besides changing clothes.” and gave me a wink.

He caught me off guard and it embarrassed me greatly. Was he interested in some man-2-man fun? Or was I miss-reading the situation. I certainly would be interested. I had even jerked off a few times thinking about him, but this was the first time I had any indication that he might be into guys. My face must have turned red because he added.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I jack off too. Heck, what else is there to do out here in the middle of big sky country?” He said, his eyes staring at my massive pecker.

I suddenly found myself enjoying the senator staring at my cock. I knew that I should rush into the bedroom and get my clothes but I didn’t. I just stood there in front of Sen. Tester, naked. Then he did the damnest thing. Sen. Tester went back and told his staff to going on to the houses and he'll catch up.

“Sorry, sir… I didn't mean any disrespect.” I told him, as I stepped back hoping he'd follow me in to the house.

Without answering, the senator did a quick check up and down the road before stepping in he closed and locked the door in a single motion. We fell into an embrace, sharing a long passionate kiss while I'm frantically pulling off his clothes. I didn't know if he had time to "fraternize with the constituents" before continuing on with his campaign, but I wasn't waiting to find out. The 67-year-old lawmaker was smooth with a rock-hard chubby belly, arms bigger than a tree trunk and rugged daddy hands. His dick was thick and cut.

"I don't have much time to get off." Sen. Tester said as I fondled his thick cut dick. With that being said, I kneeled down in front of him and closed my lips around his pale cut dick.

"Fuck! That feels wonderful. Yea!" He exclaimed as I felt his big hand grab my head and press it down.

I looked up, my mouth full of juicy cock, Jon was looking down at me and smiling. He had each of his nipples between his fingers, twisting and rubbing them while I began bobbing my head up and down his shaft. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed as he hunched toward me. His belly bounced invitingly against my forehead. He was biting at his bottom lip. His belly jiggled as he hunched my face. He grabbed my head and shoved his cock in my mouth. I gaged on it. I could not take it. It was just to fucking big. He backed off when he saw I couldn't take it all.

I pulled away from his cock and put a hand on his thigh, rubbing him while I jerked my cock, he let go of my head and wrapped his hand around his wet cock, stroking generously.

Suddenly I stood up and my long fat dick sprung up and stood straight out from my body. It was so hard it was throbbing. The senator's eyes got big as he looked at my thick dick. And as if the powerful senator could read my mind. The big guy spit on his huge hand, reached out and wrapped his meaty fingers around my dick. My head was swimming from the rush of sexual excitement pulsing through my body.

Then he pressing my throbbing cock against his own, his giant fist wrapped around them both with ease. I gasped as I felt my cock press against his wet prick. I felt his hand grip tighter around our kissing cocks. I liked the feel of his rough workman hand on my dick. Just seeing his hair arm moving back and forth as he jacked me turned me on.

"Turn around. And bend over and grab the chair. I wanna fuck you." He said.

I wanted the senator to fuck me. I wanted to feel his pussy-poking dick inside of me. Then I leaned over and grabbed the chair in front of me, jetting my butt in his direction.

"Nice ass." He said as I heard him spit.

A moment later I felt his slippery dick head pressing against my asshole. Then the big man almost angrily rammed his dick into me. I stiffened up from the searing pain of his brutal entry as the big head of his cock pry open my hole. He then pulled his dick half way out of me and slammed it back inside my asshole. I called out and tightened my grip on the recliner as the big man started fucking me as hard and fast as I could ever remember being fucked.

"Fucking good." Sen. Tester hissed as he leaned over me, his hand reaching around to grab my erection in his fist, and as he did, I looked down to see that his hand completely hid my dick in what felt like a vice.

The touch of Sen. Tester’s rough hand on my cock thrilled me from head to toe as he humped me like a machine. I just endured it as he continued to jack my dick painfully hard, his belly rubbing into my back as our sweat began to fly. The image of us two flashed through my mind. And damn if it didn’t excite me ever more. I don’t know how long he fucked me. Time lost all meaning. I was in heaven.

Suddenly with a loud cry, I grabbed the cushions of the chair and spewed my cum all over it. My body convulsed with each spurt as I emptied out my seed. The contraction of my ass on Sen. Tester’s pistoning dick while I went through my orgasm, brought on his own climax.

"I'm fucking cuming!" The senator cried out suddenly.

I pushed my ass against his crotch, driving his sperm-squirting dick as deep inside me as it would go, feeling his seed coat my bowels with a soothing warmth. Sen. Tester rested on top me for a couple of minutes as his breathing gradually slowed, and after his cock eventually slithered out of my ass he let go of my dick and we stood straight up.

“Damn, you're a good fuck. Hope to have your vote this November." He said as he grabbed his clothes and started dressing.

He sure does. And he left his sign in my yard like he left his load in my ass.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Trey, Leona: The Cat's Meow

Ooooh, I see the vision now... Maybe?? It looks like each member of the same dorm might have a similar default image in the bottom frame of their initial art? Both Ace and Trey have the Queen of Hearts… I guess we’ll have to wait until Cater’s birthday to see if the pattern keeps up?

nfdbwjccwbxgak How fitting to see Trey posed alongside a painting of the Cheshire Cat considering who he’s childhood friends with… and also that Trey’s VA also goices Lucius www (Side note: they fr always gotta have Trey claim he’s “normal” right before he pulls the sussy face which is most certainly NOT normal 😭)

A Tale as Old as Time.

A rotund feline stood on hind legs in a platinum frame, one paw curled under its round chin and resting on its fluffy tail, the other flicked out in a devil-may-care gesture. Purple, pink, purple, pink—its fur was striped in a repeating pattern. Eyes raised upward, the cat looked inquisitive among the gnarled trees, as if posing a riddle to the viewer. Why is a raven like a writing desk?, perhaps.

Huh, I wonder what he's wondering about. Trey rested his chin in one hand as he pondered the painting—and the question.

The longer he gazed at the cat, the more familiar its silly smile seemed to be. How difficult he was to read. A thought crept up on him, one lazy stride at a time.

"... Reminds me of a certain guy," he muttered.

"I hope you’re not talking about me," came a sarcastic drawl from beside him. It, too, was cat-like in its own right, a different flavor of feline: more languid than whimsical. “Because I won’t be laughing like a hyena at jokes made in poor taste.”

"Leona." Trey immediately made to step back, making space for the dorm leader. Leona's immense presence practically demanded it. "No, of course not. I was thinking about a childhood friend.“

“Hmph. You’ve got a childhood friend like this?” He made a face at the Cheshire Cat. A frown to challenge its foolhardy grin. “… Now I almost feel sorry for you, having to put up with a guy like that.”

“Oh, Chenya’s not that bad,” Trey said dismissively. “He’s a troublemaker, sure—but he’s got a good heart beneath all of that, and he wouldn’t hurt a fly. The worst is gets up to is playing a trick or two and stealing snacks.”

“What an exciting life,” Leona snorted, clearly not convinced. “He sounds like a real rascal for his age.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes it feels like he never really grew up from the times him, Riddle, and I were rolling around in clover fields and stuffing our faces with cake. Still, he’s our friend—even if we’re far apart for schooling.”

“It was already hard enough to believe you’d be friends with him, but Riddle too?” A smirk rose on Leona’s lips. “Life works in mysterious ways.”

There was a chuckle from Trey. “Ahahah… Does it surprise you? We all come from the same hometown. The community there’s very welcoming. I guess that’s why we ended up reaching out to Riddle one day and… I’m sure you know how the rest of that story goes.”

He didn’t—and nor did he care to know, so he said nothing. Instead, Leona inclined his head. In the dimness of the museum, his eyes glinted a bright green.

He gave a command.

“… Oi, herbivore. Tell me more about this hometown of yours. Tell me what it’s like.”

Trey blinked, slightly flabbergasted at what he was hearing. Leona stared at him expectantly. He clicked his tongue.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.“

Huh, I didn’t think of Leona as the curious type. If that’s what he wants though, who am I to deny it?

“Okay. so…”

Trey returned a hand to his chin. His words, he considered. How to best arrange them to paint the most flattering photo?

Green, so much green. A scattering of red dotting the landscape. Saturation, cheer. Something warm and fuzzy whenever he imagined those scenes—like the sun upon his face.

“Imagine a place bursting with flowers. Every color, every shape, every smell. Some remind you of cotton candy that rots your teeth, others of old shoes and skunk."

Leona's sensitive nose wrinkled at the suggestion. "Real poetic there."

Trey continued. "Everyone knows each other not because the community is small--I'd say it's a decent size?--but because people see each other and talk. They ask how you are, how your family and business are doing. They come over with a platter of cookies to welcome new neighbors, ask if your kids want to come over and play with theirs."

Fond memories played out in his head: the time he had eaten a whole bottle of mustard to prove a point, messing up his signature spell and imparting a loaf of bread with a bad flavor, his first cake at four years old. Everyone had told him he had such talent for baking--but looking back on it, hadn't his "cake" been a lumpy, gooey mess?

"You could screw up pretty badly and they'd still pat you on the head and tell you it's fine, it's just an honest mistake or what a good job you did. My parents are like that too. It must come with the territory."

Leona listened and nodded to every piece of information Trey presented. He appeared bemused as he watched the vice dorm leader, a fleck of sunlight caught in his emerald eyes. Like that of a silent predator stalking innocent prey.

“How picturesque. No wonder you’re so well-adjusted and normal,” Leona purred, his gaze half-lidded. “It must be the power of true love at work.”

“You could say that. The community I grew up in was very loving and supportive. I’m thankful for that.” Trey smirked so briefly that onlookers could have easily missed it. "... It lets me get away with a whole lot more."

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy to act out."

"Not often," Trey corrected. "Only little acts when it's deserved."

"You and your bleeding heart." Leona's scoff gave way to an eerie quiet. From it came a soft, contemplative sigh. "... Must be nice, being able to afford to live so contentedly."

"Ah, you probably didn't have that kind of luxury," Trey recognized. "The life of a prince is different from us common folk."

"There’s pressure to perform and social politics to navigate. Complicated webs that span several circles, grace and relations to uphold, airs to wear. Aaaah, it’s such a drag," the lion beastman groaned.

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Trey smiled sympathetically. "But even though we come from very different places, I'm sure that you also had loving and supportive people in your life, Leona. Everyone does."

"Hah. Are you listening to yourself? You sound as mad as him." Leona jabbed at thumb at the Cheshire Cat. "It's the first-born prince--the one destined to be king--that they all adore."

“… That’s not completely true, is it?” Trey adjusted his glasses. A stray beam of light reflected off the face of them, casting the glass in pure white for a fraction of a second.

The reason Leona was asking about my hometown... It must be genuine curiosity. He's never known something like it. But the fact that he asked must mean he wants to learn, right?

The prince's eyes were angry, suspicious slivers now. "What are you suggesting?"

“I heard from Ace and Deuce that you have a cute little nephew that adores you. A lot of the Savanaclaw underclassman as well. And from Lilia—there’s a grand chamberlain you used to be close with as a kid. Playing chess and getting you out of trouble. Your brother too, he must care for..."

Leona bared his teeth, raised his voice. "Don't act like you know--"

Me. What I've been through, what I've suffered.

"Whoa, whoa!" Trey held up both hands. "Sorry. I said too much. I shouldn't have let my own curiosity get the better of me."

A growl--colored with residual anger--emanated from Leona's throat. "If you understand that, then don't stick your hand into a lion's den a second time."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Trey pulled back, the fingers of one hand curling into a loose first. The other hand found its way to perching at his waist as he leaned his body forward. He attempted an apologetic confession--but instead produced something slightly sinister.

"What are you doing now?"

"Cat to cat communication," Trey said, deadly serious. "You know, like 'nyah'!"

A pause.

"... Is that good enough of an apology?" Trey inquired.

"Don't screw with me," Leona muttered, batting away at his peer's poised "paw". "In the first place, your posture's all wrong. Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Looks like I failed to lighten the mood."

"You're really terrible at it," Leona grumbled under his breath. "You sure that childhood friend of yours is the troublemaker of the group? Cuz to me, I see another troublemaker in the trio."

"I'm a normal high school boy. You even said it yourself."

"And which one of us started meowing at the other out of the blue?" Leona expertly countered.

Trey stifled his voice, which had started to work its way up into an awkward laugh. "Pfft, alright. Point taken."

"Here I was, thinking you were 'normal'," Leona simpered. "The red young master sure has a way with picking the company he keeps. You're all odd to balance out his rationale."

"That's the role a card soldier plays for his queen. Friend, baker, cat, trump card--I'm here to be them all."

[elli3luvs]

spoiled! reader x dealer! ellie

part two

a/n: ok i know i said there was gonna be smut but i really couldn't figure out how to segue into it LMFAO so i will make a part three sometime!! sorry i've been so bad recently at keeping promises :(((

wc: 1.3k

part one

"seriously, dee," you brush through your hair once more before setting the brush down, "i don't know why she's such a bitch. she's been so curt with me recently in our poetry class."

"like how?" she mumbles from behind you.

you furrow your eyebrows as you recall her behavior toward you, "like not talking to me at all — which is weird even for ellie — and not even waiting for me after class! she's also stopped showing up here! i don't understand." it was hurting your feelings.

but being emotionally constipated made you, in turn, ignore her even harder.

dina rolls her eyes at your words, trying to keep a semblance of coolness to her. she had been in the middle of a horrible cold war ever since a week prior.

ellie was mad at you because you 'suddenly turned into a bitch again' and you had started being a little curter when you realized she had to know of your crush on her. when she teased you about trying to look good for her, that's when you knew she knew.

it was so humiliating for her to know that about you. your crush on her was something you wanted to keep semi-secret until you were ready to reveal it but ellie's quick senses caught onto you.

"ellie isn't being a bitch maybe she's upset because you suddenly went back to your old ways after being kind to her for a while." dina crosses her arms at you.

you shake your head, "no way. she's definitely more sens-"

dina groans loudly, cutting you off, "whatever! talk to her about it," she slides off the bed, looking at the time on her phone, "she should be here in like 5 or so minutes. talk it over, i cannot deal anymore." dina walks out of your shared dorm leaving you in a suffocating silence.

what did she mean she "cannot deal anymore?" were you seriously complaining that much?

it wasn't like you didn't want to talk to ellie. you would want nothing more. even though it was hard to admit, you really missed her stupid jokes or the way she would look when her eyes were all hazy from the weed. you missed the way her and dina would laugh on dina's bed after a smoke session. it was becoming a welcome routine to talk to her after a long day. but, it was so hard to look at her and know she knew you liked her.

maybe it was the overthinker in you but it was too much to handle. something about it was so humiliating.

your thoughts are interrupted by a knocking on the door followed by ellie's muffled, "let me in! it's cold."

your heart thumps against your chest as you stand up and make your way to the door.

you try not to let your heart break when you see the way ellie's face falls when she realizes it's you.

"where's dina?" her voice is flat, monotonous, which was weird to hear. even when the two of you hated each other it never sounded like this.

ellie tried peering over your shoulder to see if her friend was hiding somewhere. when she realizes dina really isn't there she lets out a sigh.

this was almost unbearable.

you kick at the floor, pulling your sleeves over your hands, "she just left a couple minutes ago."

ellie clicks her tongue, looking around before she speaks up, "tell her i stopped by," she turns around, "see ya."

your voice halts her in her tracks, "wait!" ellie turns to look at you with furrowed eyebrows, "can we please talk, maybe?"

ellie scoffs, "about what?"

you nibble on your bottom lip, "about what's happening," your voice falters as you look into her eyes. curse her beautiful eyes, "about us?"

ellie looks as if she is contemplating it for a while, shoving her hands in the pockets of the carhartt jacket she's wearing. the cold air is drafting over your body but you can't help but feel warm under her gaze. her hair whips in the wind, the hair tie she has is not doing much to keep it up. ellie finally nods, looking a bit exasperated at the decision, but she still moves forwards to come inside.

ellie doesn't even hesitate to sit on dina's bed, waiting for you to finally speak up. she's fiddling with her hands and the expression on her face almost makes you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. she looked like a kicked dog.

"i'm sorry," you start off, voice cutting through the cold silence. ellie looks up at you with an expecting gaze, "i freaked out that one day in poetry class when you, when you, god — this is really hard for me. when you asked if i was getting pretty for you or if i had a date."

ellie grips the edge of the bed, "wait? you freaked out because of that? why?"

you shrug, "because you found me out. i wasn't expecting you to catch on so quickly."

ellie cocks her head to the side, "catch on to what?" she gets off of dina's bed so she can stand in front of you, "i'm.... i'm so confused right now." she confesses to you honestly.

well shit. this wasn't how you expected it to turn out. there was no backing out of this. you have to swallow your pride and fear of rejection at this moment.

"you didn't catch on that i like you?" ellie gapes at you when the sentence comes out of your mouth, "that's why i got cold. i freaked out because i thought maybe you were weirded out that i had come to like you even though i was such a bitch befo-"

ellie's hand resting on the side of your face stops your word vomiting from completing. there's a look of happiness so prevalent on ellie's features, one you have never seen before. it puts you at ease.

"you like me?" ellie's voice is barely more than a whisper.

you push against her hand, "i thought i was obvious, ellie."

she bites her lip, a blush raging across her beautifully freckled face, "man, i was just messing with you that day," her eyes blink rapidly as if she's trying to process what you had just told her, "i like you too. since the day i laid my eyes on you."

"well," you start, feeling lighter in the chest now that you have confessed, "i definitely didn't like you at first sight. i actually wanted to kill you for sitting on my bed."

ellie laughs, leaning her head against your shoulder, "oh, i remember. i ranted to dina that whole day. i thought you were so cute but such a bitch."

"i tried so hard to get your smell off my bed." ellie lifts her head from your shoulder, an offended expression cast on her face. she pushes your shoulder.

"i don't even stink!"

you push her back, the playfulness making you grin like a madman, "yeah, right! my bed smelled like weed until i washed it!"

ellie clicks her tongue as she takes your figure into her arms. you relax against her chest thankful that dina left the room so you could finally talk this over with her.

"so does this mean i can sit on your bed now?" you laugh at her little quip.

"i mean," you act apprehensive, "i guess."

she gives you a kiss on the forehead, "sounds amazing."

[mcrdvcks]

Down Bad - Chapter 10

Chapter Summary: The squad decides to go on a mission to Eriadu in order to find out more about Dr. Hemlock, and to get closer to finding Crosshair.

Word Count: 5.8k+

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Jedi Original Character

Notes: i only have one thing to say about this chapter, and it's i'm so sorry.

Series Masterlist - Chapter 9 → Chapter 11

AO3 Link For Chapter

“Echo and I have scoured through Imperial and Republic files, but intel about the Advanced Science Division is limited.” Tech said.

“Do we know where they’re detaining Crosshair and the other clones?” Hunter asked.

“Negative. Their base of operations is unknown.”

“Well, what about their chief scientist?”

“There is even less on Dr. Hemlock, and I was very thorough. He is a ghost.”

“Not quite.” Echo added, coming from the cockpit of the ship. “According to a contact of mine, Hemlock’s set to attend a high-level Imperial summit in two rotations.” He sat down at one of the other consoles in the hallway.

“Where?” Hunter questioned.

“Tarkin’s compound on Eriadu.” Echo said, as Amina grimaced at the reminder of Tarkin, “if we do a covert infiltration, we can plant a homing beacon on Hemlock’s ship and track him to his base.”

“And to Crosshair.” Omega stated.

“Hmm, it won’t be that simple.” Omega turned around to face Hunter as he continued, “we’d be at a tactical disadvantage, and I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.”

“I understand your hesitation.” Tech replied, “we have not always agreed with Crosshair, but he is still our brother. We do not leave our own behind.”

“If there’s a chance to get him back, we have to take it.” Omega chimed in.

“Definitely.” Wrecker agreed.

“What about reinforcements?” Hunter inquired.

Echo stood up from the seat at the console, “well, Rex is on a separate mission, so it’s just us. A small enough team to get in and out without alerting them. But we’ll need to move quickly.”

Hunter looked over to Amina who looked over at him and gave a small nod. “Well then, let’s get started.”

---

“I have identified a suitable location to land outside their sensor range.” Tech stated, as they prepared to jump out of hyperspace.

“How are we bypassing those cruisers?” Hunter asked.

“Using a clearance code Rex and I acquired from one of our contacts.” Echo answered.

“Good to have you back, Echo.” Wrecker chimed in. “Just like old times.”

The Marauder jumped out of hyperspace as Hunter looked over to Wrecker, “Wrecker, man the tail gun. Just in case.”

“You got it.”

“Transmitting clearance codes.” Echo pressed a few buttons on the ship’s dashboard.

“If this doesn’t work, be ready to fly out of here.” Hunter announced, as they waited for the confirmation that they were in the clear.

After a few seconds of silence, the ship’s commlink beeped, “Vessel 1143, you are clear for approach.”

Tech landed the ship on the side of a mountain, with Echo getting off first, “let’s make this quick, before they realize we didn’t land at the base.”

They started to make their way through the trees by the mountain as Omega spoke up, “what kind of approach are we making? A side-wind breach?”

“It worked on Raxus.” Tech replied to Omega.

“It won’t work here.” Echo said in response. “The Empire’s protocols have changed since then.”

Wrecker scoffed, “thanks to us.”

“No tanks and no explosions this time, Wrecker.” Echo scolded.

Wrecker let out a disappointed groan, his shoulders falling forward, “fine.”

Once to the edge of the perimeter, Amina looked up to see the sky rail system that hung over the tops of the mountains.

Hunter brought up his binoculars and looked at the building on top of one of the mountain peaks, “hmm. The compound is heavily fortified.”

“But there’s a weak point in the rail line that we can exploit. We’ll sneak past the sensor and hitch a ride under one of the cars.” Echo said, as he looked at the back of the group.

“You mean hang? Over that?” Omega asked nervously.

“Well, it’s the only way to access the compound unnoticed.” Echo responded.

“Tech, disable the sensor.” Hunter ordered.

“That would trigger an alert. I can temporarily disrupt the feed, but I estimate only 30 seconds for us to clear the zone before it reactivates. We must be precise.” Tech spoke, before everyone turned to look at Wrecker.

“What? I can handle it!”

Echo passed Tech a cable attachment for his blaster, as Hunter used his binoculars to monitor the sensor.

Hunter signaled for Tech to go as he shot the cable and moved up to the top of the sensor. “Stand by.” Tech said through comms.

A rail car was heard as it slowly approached, almost close to their area, “another railcar is approaching.” Hunter said. “Are we set?”

“Not yet.” After a few moments Tech spoke, “the sensor is down. Move in!”

Everyone ran to the edge of the cliff and fired their cables to the side of the car, before grabbing onto some part of the car to hold onto.

“Halfway there.” Echo said.

Wrecker chuckled, “this isn’t so bad.” He looked down before groaning, “never mind.”

When the railcar arrived at the terminal, everyone jumped off on the outside platform. Hunter took out the first trooper and tossed him over the edge. Another trooper shot at him as he dodged the blast, with Echo shooting him down.

He stood by the door and held up a hand, stopping Omega and the rest from moving as another trooper walked out. Hunter shot the stormtrooper as he fell over the edge.

They made their way into the landing and took cover behind one of the storage containers. Hunter pulled out his binoculars and looked at the various ships.

“Which ship is Hemlock’s?” Omega whispered.

“We need to access the hangar manifest from the control room.” Echo spoke quietly.

“Tech, Echo, with me. You three, plant the homing beacon.” Hunter ordered, as him Tech and Echo made their way away from the storage containers.

Amina made a motion with her head, “come on, let’s move to the top of the storage containers.” She said, as Wrecker nodded.

Amina, Omega, and Wrecker poked their heads out from on top, looking out at the floor.

“Found it. Hemlock’s shuttle is at docking lane four.” Tech told them through comms.

“Copy that.” Omega whispered into her comm.

Wrecker pulled out his binoculars and looked out over the docking bay, before handing them to Omega. “That’s Hemlock’s ship. It’s too exposed. How are we supposed to get to it?”

“There’s not enough cover for me, but there is for you.” Wrecker looked over at Omega, “you think you can handle it?”

“Not a problem.” She responded confidently.

“Hmm, good. Here, take the beacon. We’ll keep an eye out.” He handed the beacon to Omega.

Amina put a hand on Omega’s shoulder, “be careful, alright?”

Omega nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "I will. Don't worry, Amina," she replied, her voice steady. "I've got this."

Amina smiled, her heart swelling with pride at Omega's confidence. "I know you do," she said, her tone filled with warmth. "We'll be right here if you need us."

With a reassuring nod, Omega slipped away, jumping down the supply crates as she used a cargo sled for cover, as the trooper walked to put the sled in a different place before walking away.

Omega placed the homing beacon on the shuttle’s landing struts, “okay, the homing beacon is secure.”

“Wait. There’s more troopers heading your way.” Amina told Omega through comms.

Omega moved away from Hemlock’s ship, only to find herself pinned. “I’m pinned down.”

“Stay in position. I’ll divert them.” Echo said through comms to Omega.

Suddenly, a magnetic crane lifted a parked V-wing as it slammed against multiple cargo boxes. The troopers in the cargo bay ran to the crane as Omega moved away, only to be found by a mouse droid.

Amina and Wrecker came over, as he stepped on the mouse droid, destroying it. “Oops.” He said, before shaking his left foot to get the droid off as it hit one of the cargo crates.

---

Amina, Wrecker, and Omega went by the command room to get Echo as they followed the troopers blasting, with Omega shooting one with her energy crossbow and Wrecker throwing a trooper onto two other troopers, knocking them out.

The door behind Hunter and Echo opened as they ran to the rail line and climbed down, avoiding fire from more troopers.

The group got onto the railcar, but it wouldn’t move, “we need an access code.” Tech said.

“I’ll override it.” Echo replied.

Omega stood in the front of the railcar as she shot one of the troopers climbing down the ladder. More troopers made their way into the railcar, but soon, Echo was able to power the car on.

Everyone continued to shoot at the troopers who were on the second car as the lights began to flicker. “We’re losing power!” Echo yelled out.

Amina quickly put her blaster in its holster as she unhooked her lightsaber from her belt.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, glancing over at her then back at the few troopers in the other car.

“Taking care of our problem.” She responded. Before Hunter could respond, she turned on her lightsaber, the blue light casting a glow on the car’s walls as she moved through the connecting tunnel, deflecting blaster bolts from the 4 troopers.

She kicked one of the troopers’ chest, before cutting one of the troopers chest plates, before using the force to bring the remaining two troopers together, hitting each other as they collapsed to the floor of the car. Amina quickly turned off her lightsaber and walked to the car the rest of the group was in.

Tech walked to the front of the car, seeing another railcar on the opposite line in front of them. “This is going to be a problem.” They all walked to look out the grated window, looking at the railcar in front of them.

Hunter and Wrecker opened the railcar’s door, looking at the freefall that was below, with nothing to grab onto or stop the fall into oblivion.

“This is not ideal.” Tech observed.

“At least we’re not hanging under the car.” Wrecker added, trying to make the best of their not-so-great situation.

“This isn’t much better.” Omega replied, before a series of blaster shots headed in their direction.

“Echo, get this car moving.” Hunter ordered, as the rest shot back at the troopers on the opposing car.

“The explosions must’ve knocked out power to the rail line.” Echo responded with aggravation.

“I can try to reboot the system, but I will need to plug directly into one of the terminals on the track.” Tech offered.

Hunter looked over at Tech, taking cover behind the wall, “you four, give us cover. Tech, up top with me.”

Tech and Hunter moved to the upper level of the railcar as Hunter gave Tech a boost up to the roof so he could climb onto the track. Hunter opened the door to continue to provide cover fire.

“I am plugged in. Stand by.” Tech said through comms.

Everyone continued to shoot, but very few of the troopers were actually going down, meaning that the group was still outnumbered.

“We’ve got three ships inbound.” Hunter said.

“Where? I can’t see them.” Omega asked, looking out into the cloudy sky.

Soon, the sound of the ships slowly made its way to Amina’s ears. V-wings she believes.

“Tech, we need power.” Hunter exclaimed through comms.

The ships fired a round of shots as the car became unbalanced.

“Echo, now!” Tech said.

“We’re online.” Echo affirmed, as the lights came back on.

Hunter fired a shot on one of the V-wings, causing it to collide into one of the other ships, when the third one flew through the smoke, firing on Tech as he ran across the rail line.

One of the blasts from the ship hit the railcar, causing it to shake as the second car broke off from the rail line as Tech grabbed onto the bottom of the car with his grappling hook.

“Come on, Tech! Hurry!” Wrecker yelled through comms.

“I am climbing as fast as I can.” He replied, grunting from the effort.

One of the troopers fired a shot at the car again, causing it to dip further. “Tech!” Omega cried out.

“Why aren’t we moving?” Hunter asked urgently.

“The car’s being ripped from the track.” Echo responded.

“Wrecker, get him on board.” Hunter ordered.

Amina went to shoot when her blaster did nothing. She smacked it against her hand realizing that somehow it was jammed. Hunter gestured to her with his head, “go help Wrecker.”

Amina nodded, going over to where Wrecker and Omega stood, taking note that the hinges connecting the two carts was almost completely broken.

She reached out with the force, holding her hands in front of her trying to bring the car back up slowly and safely. More shots from incoming V-wings shot the car, causing it to dip again.

“You must sever the connection hinge. Now!” Tech commanded.

“Not until you’re up here.” Wrecker countered.

“There is no time, Wrecker.” Tech grabbed his gun from his holster, “Plan 99.”

She wasn’t familiar with all of the plans, but something about the way Tech said it, and the way Wrecker silently reacted to it told her it wasn’t a safe, or good, plan.

The car dipped again as Wrecker grabbed the cart by two pieces of metal. Amina tried to pull the cart up quicker, but it was hard when everything kept moving, and shots were being fired all around.

She also felt conflict in Tech, before it was replaced with an unwavering sense of decisiveness.

“Don’t you do it, Tech!” Wrecker said, as he tried to pull the car up.

Tech sighed, “when have we ever followed orders?” He fired a shot through the window of the railcar, breaking the hinge.

Wrecker lost his grip as the railcar fell, “no!” He cried out, as Amina fell to the floor as her connection broke.

“Tech!” Omega yelled out, watching as the railcar fell through the sky.

As Amina lay on her stomach, she watched as he fell. The railcar reconnected to the track and sped away. She shakily stood up and wiped a tear in the corner of her eye before it fell down her cheek.

“Omega!” Hunter grabbed her wrist.

“Go back! Go back!” She cried as the car continued to move.

“The car’s going too fast.” Hunter said, moving to Echo.

Echo looked over at him, “the system’s fried. I can’t stop it.”

Everyone looked at the front of the cart as the wall moved closer and closer to them at fast speed. Hunter lunged for Omega as the cart collided and smashed through the wall of the terminal.

---

Amina blinked her eyes, taking in the greyness and the dirt surrounding her. She tried to sit up but found herself too weak.

Mechanical breathing came closer as she looked at black boots next to her head. “A- Anakin.” She whispered, her eyes slowly closing.

A gloved hand traced her cheek, “soon, sister.”

Amina blinked once more, her eyes barely open as she stared into the red tinted lenses and closed her eyes.

---

“Omega!” Hunter yelled, “we have to get her out of here.”

Wrecker picked Omega up, “I got you, kid.”

Hunter looked around, “where’s Amina?”

Blaster shots fired at them, “Incoming! Get to the Marauder.” Echo instructed.

Wrecker walked to the ship carrying Omega as he spotted her form. "I found her!"

Relief washed over Hunter as he ran to where her body was. She was unconscious, her face pale and bruised, but alive.

Hunter rushed to her side, his hands trembling as he gently cradled her in his arms. "Amina," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Wake up."

Amina stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering open as she groaned in pain. She blinked up at Hunter, her gaze filled with confusion. "Hunter?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, it's me," Hunter said softly, a flood of relief washing over him. "You're safe now."

Amina's eyes widened as the events of the past few minutes came rushing back to her. "The railcar," she whispered, her voice filled with dread. "We fell..." She turned her head slightly before placing her hand on his helmeted cheek, “Anakin was here.” She whispered.

Hunter picked her up, wincing at the pain he felt in his ribs. Her hand fell from his helmet, “he said he was coming for me.” She mumbled, before her head lolled to the side.

---

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

The first thing she felt was a coldness surround her, invading her body from underneath her skin at a slow, but steady, pace.

Amina tried to sit up, but nearly cried out from the pain as she fell back down onto the small table she was on.

Hunter walked over to her as Omega followed along. He brushed a hand on her cheek, “are you alright?”

She tried to sit up again but didn’t get very far. “I’ve been better.” Amina rubbed her forehead, looking at the bandages around Hunter’s waist.

Before she could ask her question, Hunter answered for her, “AZI said that you had internal bleeding and a cracked hipbone.”

Amina sighed, “cool, I’ve never had internal bleeding before. Most of the time my blood ends up outside my body.”

Omega hovered nearby, her eyes wide with concern, and her cheeks still wet from tears just moments ago. "Do you need anything?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

“Maybe some water?” She said, as Omega nodded and slowly walked over to the bedside table she was at to grab the container of water.

Hunter traced Amina’s cheek as she sighed into his touch, a soft smile playing on her lips despite the pain etched across her features. The gentle warmth of his hand against her skin was a comforting anchor amidst the chaos and uncertainty surrounding them.

“I’m here, Amina,” Hunter whispered, his voice soft yet filled with a reassuring strength. “We’re all here for you.”

Amina’s eyes met his, gratitude and affection shining in their depths. “I know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just glad we made it out alive.”

Hunter’s gaze softened, his thumb caressing her cheek tenderly. “Me too,” he admitted, his voice tinged with relief. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

A faint blush dusted Amina’s cheeks as she reached up to cover his hand with her own. “You won’t lose me,” she promised, her voice steady despite the lingering pain. “I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss before pulling away.

Omega returned with a container of water, her expression a mix of concern and relief as she handed it to Amina. “Here,” she said, her voice gentle. “Drink slo- ”

Wrecker shouting and blaster fire cut Omega off, as Hunter helped Amina stand up. Two troopers came to stand in front of the door as Hunter shot the door control panel to keep it shut.

“What’s happening?” Omega asked.

“It’s the Empire.” Hunter pulled away a crate from the floor, “take the mining tunnels to the spaceport and find Echo.” He grabbed Omega’s energy crossbow and pushed her to the trapdoor, “we’ll get Wrecker.”

“But you’re both injured. You can’t fight them alone.”

Hunter opened the trapdoor, “Omega, you and AZI need to go. That’s an order!” He handed Omega her crossbow as she put it on her back.

Omega looked over at Amina, who kneeled down and kissed the top of her head, “go, Omega.” Amina said, as Omega started to slowly climb down, the trapdoor closing behind her.

They walked to the door as Hunter blasted it open, knocking out the two troopers as they walked into the main part of Cid’s parlor, with Hunter holding his pistol, and Amina holding her lightsaber in front of her, the blue light glowing brightly.

Wrecker was tied up and in a kneeled position surrounded by troopers as Dr. Hemlock moved in front of him.

Hunter and Amina walked a few steps further as the trooper’s blasters clicked.

“That’s not very strategic, Hunter. You don’t need to use your enhanced senses to know you’re outnumbered.” Hemlock said, quietly but confidently. He turned to his left, holding a small box, “the Empire thanks you for your assistance.”

And once again, this is why Amina has never trusted a Trandoshan.

Cid walked out and grabbed the box, looking over at Hunter and Amina with a guilt-ridden expression. “Our business is done. Leave.” Hemlock stated to Cid, as she slowly walked away. “Please, consider your next move very carefully. I would hate for this to end poorly for the three of you. Here is how this is going to go. You will lower your weapons and hand over Omega. And I will allow you to keep breathing.”

“Omega’s not going anywhere with you.” Hunter growled.

“Oh. Well, who knew clones are so paternal? Fascinating. I was saddened to learn of your friend’s demise. What was his name? Oh, yes. Tech.” One of the troopers handed Hemlock something as he held it in his hands.

Tech’s goggles.

No. He can’t be dead. He can’t be.

She could’ve done more, could’ve tried pulling him up using the force instead of focusing on the hinge connecting the carts.

She should’ve been the one to reboot the system, to run across the top of the tracks instead of him.

She could’ve hijacked one of the V-wings and shot down the other two.

She could’ve done more.

Amina took a shaky deep breath in, as Hemlock continued, “I’m afraid this was all I could salvage. Consider it a gift.” He threw the goggles to the floor in front of Hunter’s feet. Hunter and Amina stayed quiet.

“To lose one of your own, it must weigh heavily on you as their leader.” Two troopers nudged Wrecker in his back, “and if you don’t lower the blaster now, you will lose yet another.”

Hunter looked over at Wrecker who shook his head slightly, before holding his hands up and slowly lowering his blaster, picking up Tech’s goggles.

Hemlock's smirk sent a chill down Amina's spine, his smug demeanor a stark contrast to the gravity of their situation. She clenched her jaw, her gaze unwavering as she met his cold stare head-on. “That goes for you too, Skywalker. The Emperor will be pleased to know you are in my custody.”

She thought back to what Yoda told her, “powerful, you are, Amina Skywalker. Strong in the Force, like your brother before you."

Amina shook her head, “I’d rather die than let the Emperor get his hands on me.” She spoke quietly.

“Perhaps.” Hemlock said, signaling his troopers to move over to Hunter and Amina, as they cuffed him. “But you do not have a choice. Hand over your lightsaber and stand down.”

Amina looked at Wrecker in front of her and then at Hunter beside her. She closed her eyes and turned off her lightsaber, as one of the troopers grabbed it and cuffed her using force suppressing cuffs.

A trooper ran into the room, “sir, the girl’s not in the office.”

“She’s long gone.” Hunter spoke as him and Amina now stood by Wrecker in the front of the room. “Like I said, Omega’s not going anywhere with you.”

Hemlock hummed, “we’ll see.” The three of them were escorted out of the parlor and outside into the streets of Ord Mantell.

As they walked down the streets of Ord Mantell, where people were running around, and AT-AT walkers roamed around.

A series of shots halted Hemlock and the troopers from moving, as they turned in the direction of the blaster fire. It was Omega.

“Lower your weapons.” Hemlock ordered, “hello, Omega. We were just talking about you.”

“Let them go!”

“Omega, run!” Hunter yelled, as a trooper wrapped an arm around his neck, keeping him from moving away.

“I won’t let them take you.”

“How about an exchange?” Hemlock said, as Omega looked at Wrecker, Hunter, and Amina, as Hunter shook his head ‘no’. “If you come with me, your friends will live.”

“I don’t believe you.” Omega replied.

“I did not come here for them, Omega. I came to return you to Nala Se. She needs your help.”

“He’s lying. They killed the Kaminoans.” Hunter opposed.

“Incorrect. Nala Se is alive and well cared for. As you will be.”

“I’m not going with you.” Omega said, as Hemlock raised an eyebrow.

Amina saw the trooper coming behind Omega, “Omega, look out!” She shouted, but the trooper stun blasted her before Omega could fight back.

Troopers pressed a blaster to Hunter’s face and Amina and Wrecker’s body, “scour the city. When you find the third clone, send them back to Eriadu. Governor Tarkin wishes to question you personally.” Hemlock turned his gaze to Amina, “and as for you… someone will come soon to take you to Coruscant. The Emperor wishes to speak to you.”

Amina’s heart sank as the troopers led the three of them to a shuttle; she felt as though there was more to his words than he was letting on. And the coldness around her only has been getting stronger and more persistent.

Blaster fire and explosions sounded out as a walker came rounding the corner, its aim directed to the Imperials.

“Echo?” Wrecker questioned.

“Gotta be Echo.” Hunter said.

Wrecker broke his cuffs on the top of his knee as Hunter kicked a clone behind him. Wrecker quickly undid Hunter’s handcuffs as Amina walked to the trooper Hunter kicked down, grabbing her lightsaber from his belt and cutting her handcuffs, the force coming back to her in hurried waves.

Amina ran to the troopers who were shooting at the walker and cut them down, as another walker came up behind Echo’s and shot it down. Echo jumped out followed by AZI.

“Where’s Omega?” Echo asked.

“That Imperial took her.” Wrecker answered.

“It was Hemlock. We’ve gotta stop his shuttle from leaving.” Amina walked around the building as her heart dropped even further.

Amina ran on the ground, stopping at the top of the small hill as she watched Obi-Wan cut off Anakin’s legs and one of his arms.

She just stood there, her mouth open but unable to form any words or sounds as her brother lay close to the lava’s shore.

Anakin screamed in pain as Obi-Wan turned off his lightsaber. She watched as Anakin’s vibrant blue eyes turned yellow. He glanced up at her before turning his gaze to Obi-Wan as he shouted.

“You were the chosen one! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!” Obi-Wan yelled, his voice hoarse, desperate, and full of despair.

Obi-Wan picked up Anakin’s lightsaber and walked up the small hill. “I hate you!” Anakin yelled, pure rage coating his voice.

“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.” Obi-Wan’s voice broke as he watched Anakin slip further down the hill, until one of his legs caught on fire, causing his entire body to burn. Anakin screamed in pain as Obi-Wan watched before finally tearing his gaze away and walked over to Amina.

Her brother was burning, screaming in pain. How could she just stand by and watch?

Amina took a few steps down the hill, her heart wrenching as tears streamed down her face. Obi-Wan's arms encircled her waist, holding her back from the horrific sight of her brother burning in agony. She struggled against his grip, her voice choked with grief and despair. "Anakin!" she cried out, her entire being filled with anguish.

"No, Amina," he murmured, his voice choked with sorrow. "You can't go down there."

Tears continued to blur Amina's vision as she struggled against Obi-Wan's hold, her body trembling with a mix of fear and anguish. "Let me go," she pleaded, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I have to help him."

Obi-Wan's grip tightened, his voice firm yet filled with empathy. "It's too late, Amina. There's nothing we can do."

Amina watched as Anakin reached out a hand at the bottom of the hill as she continued to struggle against Obi-Wan’s hold, "Ani!" she cried out again, desperation thick in her voice. The sight of her brother burning, consumed by flames and darkness, tore at her soul. Every fiber of her being screamed to rush down that hill, to reach out and save him, but Obi-Wan's grip was firm, unyielding.

Obi-Wan's voice was pained yet resolute. "Amina, you can't go down there. It's too late."

"No!" she sobbed, her anguish echoing through the desolate landscape. "I have to help him!"

“Amina, we have to go.” Obi-Wan said firmly.

Amina stopped fighting his grip as he let her turn around to face him. She hit his chest, “we have to do something- there h- has to be something we can do Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan gathered her in his arms, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed into his tattered tunic, “there’s nothing we can do, Amina. Anakin is gone. We need to go before it’s too late.”

He knew how difficult this was for her, she had known Anakin all her life. The only other person who shared that honor was Shmi and she was dead as well.

He couldn’t help but feel more pain as he remembered a hidden truth, knowing that he was keeping a secret from her that Master Yoda told him to.

It was never supposed to be him that fought Anakin, it was supposed to be her.

She was only nineteen, he thought, and she’d lost everything.

There he was, her brother, in all his glory, followed by a group of stormtroopers. The coldness. Of course. He had finally come for her.

Hunter heard Amina’s heart rate pick up and her breathing become hurried as he, Wrecker, and Echo turned to face what Amina was looking at, their blasters pointing at Vader.

Amina took a step forward, her gaze locked with Vader's imposing figure. Despite the mask that obscured his face, she could feel his intense stare piercing through her, a silent reminder of the bond they shared as siblings.

"Anakin," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, laced with a mixture of anguish and longing. In that moment, she couldn't help but yearn for the brother she had once known, the kind-hearted young Jedi who had been her closest confidant and ally.

Vader pointed at her, “grab her.” He ordered, as he used the Force to grab her lightsaber from her grasp.

Hunter raised his blaster at Vader as Amina shook her head, “no, please. I don’t want to go.” She cried out in a hushed tone.

Troopers grabbed her by her arms, cuffing her once again in force suppressing cuffs, dragging her to Vader. Before Hunter, Wrecker, and Echo could shoot, Amina turned her head towards them, shaking her head no.

“Go!” She yelled. Hunter shook his head back at her as she continued, “go! Get Omega! Go, Hunter!”

Amina's plea echoed in his ears, urging him to go, to prioritize Omega's safety over her own. Hunter's grip tightened on his blaster, his jaw clenched in determination. He knew he couldn't leave Amina in Vader's clutches, but he also couldn't abandon Omega to the mercy of the Empire.

“Go!” Amina yelled again, as the troopers dragged her away, Vader leading the way.

Wrecker and Echo exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring Hunter's internal struggle. They understood the gravity of the situation, the impossible choice that lay before them. But they were soldiers, bred for battle, trained to follow orders even in the face of overwhelming odds.

"We can't just leave her," Wrecker grumbled, his voice tinged with frustration as he glanced back at Amina, her form surrounded by stormtroopers.

Echo nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on Vader's imposing figure. "We need to find a way to get them both out of there," he said, his tone resolute.

Hunter took a deep breath, his mind racing as he surveyed their surroundings. They were outnumbered and outgunned, facing off against one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. But they were also soldiers, brothers-in-arms bound by loyalty and friendship.

"We stick to the plan," Hunter said, his voice firm as he met Wrecker and Echo's gaze. "We get Omega back, and then we come back for Amina."

Wrecker nodded, his expression grim but determined. "Copy that, boss," he said, his hand tightening around his blaster.

Echo glanced at Hunter, his eyes betraying a hint of worry. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Hunter met Echo's gaze, his jaw set in determination. "We don't leave anyone behind," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "Not on my watch."

---

Amina was shoved onto the shuttle and put into a seat, with the harness locking her in.

As the shuttle's engines hummed to life, Amina's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. She stole a glance out the viewport, watching as the familiar streets of Ord Mantell faded into the distance, replaced by the vast expanse of space stretching out before her.

Vader dismissed the troopers as he moved to stand in front of Amina, his gloved hand tracing her cheek.

Amina flinched at his touch, it felt vastly different from when Anakin would do it to her to calm her down or comfort her.

"You have grown," Vader rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, tinged with a hint of something that sounded almost like regret. "But you still possess that Skywalker stubbornness."

Amina clenched her jaw, refusing to let fear show on her face. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.

Vader's gaze bore into her, his eyes hidden behind the red-tinted lenses of his mask. "You," he replied simply, his voice devoid of emotion. "The Emperor wishes to speak with you."

Amina's heart sank at his words, the weight of their implications pressing down on her like a suffocating weight. She knew what awaited her on Coruscant, knew the fate that awaited her at the hands of the Emperor. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to give in to despair.

"I won't go willingly," she said defiantly, her voice tinged with a steely resolve. "You'll have to drag me kicking and screaming if you want to take me to him."

Vader regarded her with a silent intensity, his masked gaze unwavering. "So be it," he said finally, his voice carrying a note of finality.

She felt tears well up in her eyes. How could her brother willingly hand her over to the Emperor, a man who will probably abuse her and use her for whatever he wants.

A tear rolled down her face as the blue and white lights of hyperspace lit up the black shuttle.

---

“There was no way to track Hemlock’s or Vader’s ship.” Echo spoke sadly from the cockpit, while Hunter and Wrecker sat in the hallway by the consoles. “They could’ve taken them anywhere.”

Hunter looked at the gun turret, Omega’s doll sitting in front. He sighed, “we are going to get them back. And we don’t stop searching until we do.”

tags: @callsign-denmark

[yanderecrazysie]

Dreaming With a Broken Heart

Request: I would like the reader to escape the yandere this time. And the reader acts ignorant she ignores the signs but is actually fully aware that's why she escaped and had a plan incase something happened to her.

-From Quotev

Title: Dreaming with a Broken Heart

Pairings: Kaibara Sen x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, implied future death

Summary: Kaibara thinks he has you trapped here forever.

Note: This is short and bleh, I’m so sorry.

“You roll out of bed and down on your knees

And for a moment, you can hardly breathe

Wondering, "Was she really here?

Is she standing in my room?"

No, she's not

'Cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone”

-from “Dreaming with a Broken Heart” by John Mayer

Six windows. Two doors.

The windows are covered in metal, so there’s no way out through there. The doors are locked tight with a key needed for entry or exit. A potential escape lies there.

You’d known Kaibara had started to lose it but, really, this was too much.

You were on edge from the first time he approached you, trying to act cool and show off his “amazing” quirk that was worthy of being in the hero course. To be honest, you didn’t care in the slightest what course he had wormed his way into, hero-in-training or not, you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him. And since you didn’t have a strength-enhancing quirk, that wasn’t very far.

As time went on, the Class B student had grown more and more obsessive and unhinged. He’d begun to follow you around and compliment you frequently. He began to act threateningly towards your male friends and it began to tick you off very quickly.

But more than that, you hated the way he looked at you. Somehow, you knew, Kaibara Sen was dangerous. In what way, you weren’t sure, but you didn’t want to find out.

You’d taken to wearing spherical earrings and encasing a tiny voice recorder inside, uploading your auditory surroundings to your laptop at home every few minutes. If you could just get out of here, Kaibara would be screwed. He’d incriminated himself thoroughly over and over again.

“Why did you kidnap me?” You’d asked as loudly and clearly as possible.

And he’d answered, like the fool he was about to become, “Because I love you!”

The police would eat that up once you were free.

It had taken only a couple of days to convince him you were in pain whenever you wore ropes or chains. Whenever you could hear his footsteps, you’d quickly rub or scratch at the place where the chains or ropes held you to make it bright red. 

“Something’s wrong!” You’d wailed, “It hurts so much, Kaibara…”

He had let you free soon enough. 

Now, all that was left was to get the keys and get out of here. There was Plan A, where no one got hurt or, if that didn’t work, Plan B. Plan B was a lot more violent and unpredictable, but hopefully you wouldn’t have to resort to that.

You waited until he finally approached your door, heart pounding in your ears as you mentally went over your plan once more. Kaibara carried a tray of food into your room, awkwardly fighting with the door to get inside your room.

 Immediately you went up to him and wrapped your arms around him in a big hug. Kaibara was so surprised that he dropped the tray of food he’d been holding, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

You pulled him closer, hands roaming his back as your searched for the keychain you knew would be hanging out of his pocket tantalizingly like it always did. Jackpot. Your fingers brushed against cold metal and you seized both your chance and the keys.

You engulfed the keys in your fist, hiding it from view as you pretended to grow dizzy, taking a shaky step back from him and collapsing on the bed in a boneless heap. Kaibara let out a horrified gasp, quickly bending over you, trying to figure out what was wrong.

In his worry, there was no way he’d notice you grabbing your old chain until it was clicking in place around his wrist. Maybe the horrified, betrayed expression should have filled you with guilt, but you only felt glee.

“Now you get to rot in this room alone until the day you die, just like you had planned for me,” you reasoned.

“But I brought you food! I’ll starve to death here!”

You shrugged and left him behind, a bounce in your step as you used the keys to unlock the house and began to head to where you hoped a police station would be, or at least people to help.

Maybe Kaibara’s death would be on your hands if you didn’t tell the police where you’d been held captive right away. If you pretended that you couldn’t remember at first. Maybe the starvation or dehydration would be slow and painful.

You could live with that.

[gumikpxp]

Clover

werewolf! Au

3. Origin

pairing: Werewolf!Shua x Bunnyhybrid!Reader (f)

warnings: Fluff, slight angst mentions of heats and trafficking

synopsis: A werewolf and a bunny seem like a terrible match and would have no chance of working. however you can't argue with fate and if joshua gets a cute cottontail mate he doesn't seem to mind. At least that what his brothers believe when they watch joshua stare at his bunny mate with the most adoring look in his eyes as she showed him the four leaf clover she found in the garden. Who were they to question the moon goddess anyways.

"Where am I from?" She asked with a head tilt and Joshua nodded taking the seat next to her. She hummed turning her body slightly towards him.

"China. Originally at least! That's where my Mom and dad is too! but i haven't seen them since i was maybe 5 years old?" She explained to him moving her hands around as she explained.

"not that i'm complaining but if your parents are in china how'd you get here?" Joshua asked and she pouted slightly shaking her head.

"i don't want you to get sad." she mumbled looking down at her hands that were now sat in her lap and picked at the skin on her fingers. Joshua noticing this frowned and grabbed her hands holding them in his.

"i think i'll be okay, i'd really like to know more about you.. if that's okay with you.." he told her and she looked up at him and nodded slightly with a sigh.

"My mom and dad were adopted at a hybrid shelter in china by some very wealthy people for their daughter. Well they ended up having me over time along with a few brothers and sisters." Y/n started looking bad at their hands now intertwined tracing his knuckles with her fingers.

"Well it turns out their family wasn't wealthy for no reason. They only wanted to keep my mom and dad and then one of my sisters for later breeding. When she was old enough. And once we were old enough to be taken from our mothers they sold the rest of us to a hybrid trafficking ring...." Joshua tensed at her words suddenly wanting to squeeze her impossibly tight to himself as if to protect her from the painful memories she was reliving.

"Bunnies tend to go very fast, especially female bunnies because of our reputation with heats. So i was bought pretty quickly from and international deal here in korea.. but because I wasn't old enough for my heat and still had years of waiting I didn't get my heats. That made my old master really angry." The girls ears dropped almost to hide herself and it only filled joshua with rage and sadness he was almost sure she would be able to sense it through the mating bond.

Needing to be impossibly closer to his mate joshua pulled her chair nearer to him and wrapped his arms around her smaller figure. She gave him a soft smile linking her hands with his again when she had the chance.

"Because of this he made me his personal servant, i wasn't the only one tho there was another hybrid, an older girl she was a cat, because i was so young at the time she acted as an older sister to me.. almost a mother? She felt sorry for me a lot and hated the abuse he would put me through and after a couple of years she got sick of it. She made a plan to get me out of there." Y/n explained to joshua finally looking at him again.

"Because i was the runt of my siblings when i turn i'm very small. she took advantage of that joshua the next time she was to pack a car of one of his guest she was going to smuggle me out. it worked i was able to get out but i was trapped in the trunk for a while longer than expected, so when the trunk finally opened and i had the chance i escaped and ran into the forest and i've been here for years." She finished explaining to him and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Wait... years?" he asked and she nodded. "how come i've only been able to sense you now.." he asked her and she shrugged.

"Well, i'm finally of age for my heats... i turned 18 three days ago, maybe it's the same for mates? is that what you called it. Maybe we can't sense each other until a certain point of maturity.." She explained to him and his eyes widened slightly. She's still so young.

"I missed your birthday?" he asked and she shrugged

"i mean it's not like you knew.." she mumbled and he's hooked his head still somehow disappointed in himself.

"how did you celebrate?" he asked and she furrowed her eyebrows again.

"what do you mean celebrate?"

"like.. a birthday party?" he asked her and she taped slightly.

"what's that?!"

"Wow. She's a clueless little thing isn't she."

Joshua grumbled rolling his eyes.

"Jeonghan.. seriously?" The younger mumbled and jeonghan chuckled slightly.

"don't worry it's adorable, heartbreaking yet adorable. You're gonna be a handful." Jeonghan told the girl.

"I hope when you get mated it's someone who despises you." Josh mumbled to his brother and he only laughed in response.

"Oh please i'm sure my mate will me a saint!"

"Oh! you said you were from china right?" Josh asked and she nodded quickly.

"I think a couple of my brothers would love to meet you!" Josh smiled at her and her cheeks seemed to redden a bit at it. her ears quickly dripping in front of her face.

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune: Irodori no Issha Episode 10 - Not Worth the Effort

Senichi: Hey, Manji

Manji: What is it, Sen-nii

Senichi: Let me use the new arrows you bought today too

Manji: Huh~? Don’t you have your own?

Senichi: Mine got a bit old. I wanna try out new ones

Manji: Sen-nii, when you bought a new bow, you didn’t let me borrow it

Senichi: That’s not true. I told you I’ll let you borrow it later

Manji: It was a lot later

Senichi: Really?

Manji: Yeah. So you can use my arrows, but later.

Senichi: Tch~

Manji: Don’t “tch” me...Huh?

Senichi: Mmm...hey! 

Manji: That’s Kazemai’s 

Senichi: Yamanouchi Ryouhei!

Ryouhei: "It was delicious” ...There

Senichi: Oi!

Manji: Stop right there!

Ryouhei: Who is it? Huh? Oh!

Senichi: We’re not gonna let you say you forgot who we are

Ryouhei: I remember you two. I was just surprised

Manji: We haven’t seen each other since the takoyaki party

Ryouhei: Oh, right. How are you guys?

Senichi: What’s with this lack of enthusiasm? What do you mean “How are you guys?”

Ryouhei: Ah, sorry, I’ll say it differently. “How are you guys!?”

Manji: Does not compute

Ryouhei: Huh? Why, why? 

Manji: That’s enough

Senichi: Ryouhei, what are you doing here? 

Manji: This isn’t Kazemai’s territory

Ryouhei: Oh, I was just coming back from Shuu-kun’s house

Senichi and Manji: Huh!?

Ryouhei: Shuu’s little sister, Sae-chan...

Senichi and Manji: What?

Ryouhei: Had a violin recital

Senichi and Manji: Wha!

Ryouhei: She told me to come and watch her, so I stopped by on my way home

Senichi and Manji: Nnnngh~~~!

Ryouhei: What’s wrong?

Senichi: At the takoyaki party, you said you’ll invite us the next time you go to Shuu’s house!

Manji: You said you would!

Ryouhei: Um...sorry. I forgot

Senichi and Manji: You’re terrible!

Manji: We never went to Shuu’s house even once!

Ryouhei: Oh, really?

Senichi: Are you asserting your dominance or something?

Manji: I’m so pissed off right now!

Ryouhei: Then, let’s go together next time

Senichi and Manji: Eh

Ryouhei: I think Shuu-kun and Sae-chan would be happy too

Ryouhei: Oh, I got a reply.

Ryouhei: I texted Shuu-kun about the cake being delicious earlier

Senichi: Reply...!

Senichi: Wait! 

Manji: Ryouhei, you’re communicating with him directly? With Shuu!

Ryouhei: Huh? Yeah, I do, just fine

Senichi and Manji: Nnngh~~~!

Senichi: Even we don’t know his number!

Manji: Ryouhei’s talking with Shuu!

Ryouhei: Huh, you didn’t know?

Manji: Asserting your dominance again!

Ryouhei: Don’t you have an account?

Manji: We do!

Ryouhei: Then why don’t we make a group chat?

Senichi and Manji: Eh

Ryouhei: Ah, but before that, let’s add each other first. Tell me your IDs

Senichi and Manji: ...

Ryouhei: I’ll try asking Shuu-kun if we can make a group chat

Senichi: Oh...

Manji: That’s from Shuu? What did he say?

Ryouhei: He says he’s fine with it

Senichi: Shuu’s using stamps!

Manji: Seriously?

Manji: Seriously! And what’s with this lame stamp!

Ryouhei: Ahaha, that’s just like Shuu-kun

Senichi and Manji: Eh...

Ryouhei: I’m going to invite you guys now

Manji: Shuu’s profile pic is still the gray silhouette...

Ryouhei: Mmm, what should I make the group name?

Senichi: Let’s ask Shuu. It’s his group after all

Ryouhei: Okay

Senichi: I wonder if it’ll be something like the Fujiwara Association

Manji: Or Hawkeye or Archers’ Salon

Ryouhei: Oh, he responded!

Senichi and Manji: It’s here it’s here!

Senichi and Manji: What did he say

Ryouhei: He said, “Takoyaki Club”

Senichi and Manji: So lame!!

[internet-protector]

Warning: Scams! Fraud! Watch out!

I'm doing my best to make the internet a safer place, so I want to document some scams I almost fell victim to. Today (2024-12-10) I sold an item on eBay and two people immediately reached out and sent me a message that said:

Fam, I'm so excited and can't wait for the delivery!!P.S. l need to get the package on my current location and I’m giving you the details here (see the screenshot) and please include every single thing you see there 👇🏽Also, if not bothered, once you've printed the label, could you please send me a picture of it?Thank you in advnace and have a nice day!

and

Hii, first of all thank you for this item. Please don't send it old address. Suddenly I noticed that I made mistake and paid from inccorect place. Sorry for this situation. I am attached photo and here is all details wich you need for mail and sens it here. Thank you for understading

I'm attaching the information they sent me to this post in case someone searches for it:

Sopio Gloveli 21-A Brookside Dr TBS-1491608 Wilmington DE 19804

and

Toma Khabeishvili 8 McCullough Dr. Unit U187088 New Castle, DE 19720 I think these are probably fake names and the "unit" numbers represent international freight forwarding boxes they use to fence stolen goods. If you find this post, do not send items to those addresses. Thanks!

[tsuki-sennin]

Submarine mushrooms! Wrestling ants! Valvarad's antagonism! All this and more on these episodes of Kamen Rider Gotchard!

Spoilers, I guess...

-Tune Up!

-They fly now?!

-Y'know this Valvarad guy is pretty based, blowing up sexual predators.

-"Thanks for the help, man! I don't know what I'd have- Hey wait a second."

-Oh Spanner, you're gonna be an interesting one.

-...though in fairness, if I watched this when I was in this show's actual target demographic, I'd probably wanna base my entire personality off of you from Valvarad's design alone.

-Fun fact, in alchemy, a singular upright triangle represents the element of fire, and the connotations of love and passion.

-Very fitting for the themes of this season.

-"Hotaro???"

-Nothing stops information from bursting out.

-"He's sooooooo cooooooool~!"

-Rinne's not particularly enthused by your heroism.

-Treasure boy.

-"Golly, I don't know..."

-"I'll give you two holos for one mantis man."

-Energyl... Sasukemaru...

-"New friend~! :D... Kill him!"

-Spanner has no patience for your bureaucracy.

-Right okay, top brass, that means they're definitely evil.

-I know how secret societies in Kamen Rider work!

-Spanner's smile is a little disconcerting.

-Insect spotted!

-Oh hey there.

-That poor ant! Release them!

-I respect how seriously Hotaro's taking Atropos.

-Oh, Lachesis, you are...

-Definitely making waves somewhere.

-I see... so, the sisters become Insect Malgams?

-Course, I'd imagine once the season really starts picking up we'll see them branch out more.

-Get pheromoned, idiot.

-"Yeah okay, we're done here!"

-A labyrinth~!

-Ants! Ants! Hordes upon hordes of them!

-"Awwww, really~? It doesn't seem to make her all that happy... Daddy'd probably be real proud though if he wasn't so dead~!"

-I love Lachesis so much already.

-Aw, Rinne... :(

-That's a far worse betrayal than some institution.

-This is the good shit right here.

-"Go home Ichinose. Let me be consumed by the ants."

-Make his mom smile...

-Make everybody happy...

-All wonderful goals.

-There we go~! Up and at 'em, kids.

-Sodapoppin and Ninja. Two streamers at once.

-Ah, the old card shuriken trick.

-I used to try and perfect that all the time as a kid.

-This show is peak fiction.

-Deploying torpedo spores!

-"Ichinose, you motherfucker, don't-!"

-

-Gotchanko!

-Gotcha, Gotcha~! Gotcha Burning Fire~! Gotcha, Gotcha! Gotcha, Shining future~!

-Antrooper~! Sorry about that, sweetie.

-Man... that's some serious power behind

-"My mana reserves have run dry."

-Oh hey, this is the wild form from 4 Aces and Black Fox.

-"Gimme that, Ichinose >:( You're welcome, Kudoh-kun :)"

-"Culinary genius in the making~!"

-..."what exactly... did you do?"

-Wrestleman up next.

-What high schooler is this energetic so early in the morning, goddamn.

-My man!

-Of course... the questions linger.

-Ah, name! Got a name! Glion!

-All I'm getting from this spelling is a village in France and a medical school in Switzerland.

-I see neither of the "younger" sisters like their boss very much.

-Golem Goriki...

-Yeah idk what you expected

-Oh, I know this guy!

-Yukio Naya, he's part of DDT Pro-Wrestling! I see people on Twitter talk about him sometimes.

-"Not bad, dude! You wanna be even stronger though?"

-"Dude, you learned basic math in like... kindergarten."

-Oh really now???

-

-"I think it's time we made the trade back.../"Give the boy his card back, wench."

-T

-Sen... pai?

-Wrasslin'!

-In fairness, we are trespassing.

-Wrestle gal~!

-Chemy?

-Protection racketeering.

-"No alchemy on civvies."

-Holy shit that's a

-That's a dude!

-A whole figure.

-Tag partner...

-Just like you and Rinne.

-Guns

-Renge! It's chemy time!

-I'M THE GUN NOW

-I love how wild and volatile this show's creativity is.

-Goriki.

-Golem Time.

-"Oh my fucking god, he was Kamen Rider this whole time!?"

-"Is that all you got, ya little jabroni?!"

-Valvarad with the steel chair!

-Baby face!

-Don't you dare, Spanner.

-"Move it."

-Is he

-Is he wearing a clip on tie?

-Rinne :)

-"Goriki the Golem. He's a murder machine, a heartless monster who'd slobberknock his own fans."

-For the love of the sport and putting on the perfect show... you're one hell of a guy, Mr. Asahi.

-Wrestler G...

-I'm

-I'm actually crying right now, what the hell

-A future alongside the Chemies...

-"You need to train against that murderous finisher of his. Your spine depends on it."

-Wrestler... G!

-Oh fuck

-"Hotaro! We're gonna train like hell!"

-Hotaro has developed extreme spinal injuries.

-It's time

-"Well... if it isn't Baby Face Jobber."

-Wrestler G!

-In this corner, the reigning champion! Standing at a whopping 6'7" and weighing over 240 pounds! He's got a body of stone and a heart just as hard and cold! Goriki the Golem!

-And in this corner! Our challenger! Back in the ring once more to put the hurt on! The ramblin' wreck, with a growing card deck! Kamen Rider Gotchard! Gotchanko AntWrestler!

-This is so hype, goddamn.

-No sell!

-Oh!

-Millionfold!

-Asahi's here!

-Ooooooh!

-That's the good shit right there.

-This is a fantastic finisher theme.

-Gorillasensei...

-"Off to jail with you, son."

-Man...

-Mr. Asahi...

-"This is no place for you anymore."

-The dream...

-This hurts... in such a good way...

-A dream like this can never die.

-What next?

-Oh fuck, Spanner focus.

-Seems like we have another guy to worry about.

[iintotheunknown]

as the crowd moved around them, they remained an obstacle blocking the path. they were struggling with the idea of meeting a stranger. only val was far from a stranger, not in the same sense that the rest of these people were; they had shared countless conversations. but in the same breath, val was an unrecognisable face in this crowd just like everyone else. and so they remained still. willing the universe to take away the anxiety they were riddled with. that sense of hesitation. the reluctance to approach. even as they watch the suspected blonde woman follow their instructions. lookup, turn right and wave. seemed like pretty clear evidence that they were, in fact, the woman they were after. a smile quirked at their lips. the messages that made their phone buzz seemed to confirm this as well. somehow that made their stomach sink even more. when the blonde started walking towards them, sen was quick to glance away just in case. that sliver of doubt was winning. they didn't want to seem like they were staring. it would be infinitely awkward should this woman be approaching someone else. but was it weirder that they were now avoiding looking at them? what was normal here? the crowd was thinning. the options were becoming limited.

the sound of their name drew sen's attention and they came face to face with a woman who was somehow both a treasured friend and a complete mystery. half a wave morphed into a peace sign in response to their wave. seemed ignorant not to acknowledge her at this point. it felt surreal. strange. they do not know what they were expecting her to look like. she seemed way cooler than sen could ever hope to be. pretty too. a soft chuckle. a smile. they waited for her to finish talking before they could even think of what to say. "uh... no, yeah, sen," they confirmed. it was not that common of a name for any old joe to guess. "which makes you val. hey," did they sound nervous? she was struggling to settle. should they apologise for not being the one to approach? no, just move past it. "it's cool to finally put a name to a face. is this as weird for you as it feels for me? not that you're weird just like it's kinda crazy" they explain. the anxious energy that had her pacing the platform earlier was now coming up as words. scared to stop out of fear of not talking at all. "sorry, I'm really excited that you're here and also not like a middle-aged man or something."

val couldn't help but to look through the sea of people at the station, tying her best to at least attempt to figure out which one of them was sen. she watched people great whoever was picking them up, and already she could feel her stomach drop slightly. what if they weren't coming? the last thing she wanted was for her brother to be right about all of this and for her to have to turn right back around. when she heard her phone go off, she sighed happily when she read their message and reread her directions. quickly the blonde looked up, turned to her right, and tried to pick up who might be sen. she gave a little wave, trying her best not to chuckle since she could only imagine how she looked to everyone else walking. it seemed to calm down a bit, people started to pair off and as more filtered out, she noticed a brunette close to the directions that they told her to look in and gave them a little wave, just hoping that they would wave back.

VAL: if you're not the person i'm waving at then this might be on the top ten list of most embarrassing things i've done VAL: shockingly enough you know a good handful of them already haha

she didn't know why she was still so nervous about meeting sen, the two of them had peeled back so many layers of one another that she never thought she would ever do. it was easy to talk behind the phone, it was easy to open up to them and all she could do was hope that they still had the same connection in person as they did over the phone. she knew she just had to take a chance and start to head in one direction instead of just standing there. less and less people were still around the station leaving her with only a couple of options. she'd like to assume it wasn't anyone who was very far outside her age range and zoned into the brunette a bit more, hoping that she wouldn't make a fool out of herself.

the closer she got, she gave them another wave as she rolled the bag along with her. "sen?" she asked with a hopeful smile as she got closer. "if you're not i'm super sorry and we can totally pretend this never happened." val said with a chuckle. hopefully, it was them, they were cute and the last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself in front of someone like this. "i can gladly take my suitcase and keep rolling down this platform." she teased.

[solisfated]

⎾ @pasttorn​ asked: cloud. / SEN & RUKA, SEN HAVING NIGHTMARES & CURLING UP NEXT TO RUKA AAAAAHHHHHH | rest prompts. | not accepting! ✹

Thunder vibrated around their home enough to shake windows as the rain beat down on the roof. Ruka herself found the storm quite pleasant, a specific type of comfort in the dead of night that made her feel almost as if she were floating. She stared up at the dark ceiling, allowing herself to slip into an easy trance, lulled by the rain sounds. 

The boy’s footsteps did not stir her, nor did the sound of the door sliding open and then shut. Only when his small presence snuck into her peripheral vision does Ruka realize her son is beside her. 

Oh dear, she thinks. There must be something the matter, but before she could ask little Senjurō what was troubling him, he was curled up at her side. Ruka shuffled around atop her futon, gently pulling the blanket over the boy and encompassing him in a soft embrace as she settles into bed once again. Ruka runs a comforting hand up and down his back, smiling softly into messy fiery fire. She remembers when he was a baby, so delicate and small, and he would be restless long into the night at times and would only calm down after being held snug against her while she rubbed his back. The boy was far too young for him to remember it now, but she hoped it gave him comfort. 

❝ You don’t have to speak on it, but you can speak freely if you want. I am glad you came to me. ❞ Ruka whispered as she held her son, mindful of the rain. ❝ I’ve got you, my boy. I love you very much. ❞

[ichorai]

dancing choose ; wade wilson.

track three of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; wade wilson x gn!platonic!reader

synopsis ; when you said he’d come crawling back to you on all fours—you weren’t really being serious.

words ; 2.3k

themes ; comedy, action, angst

warnings / includes ; strong profanity, graphic depictions of blood/injury/violence/trauma, mentions of getting drunk and high, sexual innuedos, wade makes fun of vegans i'm sorry, one mention of edward cullen our sparkly vampire, hulk's ben and jerry's ice cream flavor, dumpster flowers, rumor has it wade is still waiting for the avengers to reply to him to this day, getting beat up by girl scouts, mentions of carnage bcs yes carnage and deadpool did fight in the comics, and mhm wade is quite literally on his hands and knees for you in this one

main masterlist. 

Wade Wilson wasn’t good at life. If there was an award that went to the person who was the worst at existing, it’d go to him annually. He sucked at maintaining healthy relationships, consistently neglected his own well-being, and rarely ever took anything seriously. On the grand pyramid of shitty things that could possibly happen to a person, Wade was most likely at the very tip top of the food chain. He was the great white shark of the ecosystem that were unfortunate events that a person could endure—not that it was something to be proud of. Besides, Wade never really liked sharks. He’d much rather be a seahorse or something in the next life. If he could ever even get out of this life. 

You had once mentioned that he was purposefully sucking at life as some sort of coping mechanism for his childhood trauma, but he merely responded the only way he was really good at—like a three year old throwing a tantrum. He had stuck his fingers into his ears and yelled out, “I CAN’T HEAR YOU! LA LA LA!” 

Besides, what were you, his therapist? 

No, seriously, though. What were you?

You had appeared into his life around three years back, when he crashed clean through several buildings in a row (thanks a lot, Carnage), eating mouthfuls of rubble and inhaling pure dust and shards of glass. After the fourth building he was thrown into, he crashed out of a window, stumbling into you, an innocent pedestrian just on their way to try out the new vegan restaurant down the street. He collided into you with enough force to send the both of you toppling over onto a busy road, asphalt scratching painfully against your cheek. Cars screeched to grueling halts only inches away from the two of you, angry honks erupting from a dozen vehicles at once. Wade almost had the gall to feel guilty for a second upon meeting your wide eyes. Then he spotted your trembling lips start to open into a horrified gape, which then gave way to the most awful, ear-splitting scream he’d ever heard.

He began screaming with you shortly after, because he promptly realized that his legs were gone and the pain was nearly enough to have him pass out.

“FUCK! FUCK, OH MY FUCK! SHIT! JESUS CHRIST, SO NOT COOL, CARNAGE! SO NOT COOL,” he yelled, using his arms to drag himself across the road, spitting out obscenities at the cars honking at him. There was a thick trail of blood and bits of mutilated flesh and skin following his severed knees, and you had to physically force your eyes away before you could feel your breakfast move its way back up your digestive tract. You pushed yourself up onto shaky feet, grabbing Wade’s suited hands and dragging him to the sidewalk with a groan. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” you panted raggedly, staggering away from him as soon as he wasn’t under the imminent threat of being run over by a white man’s dirty Toyota. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Wade winced, completely not fine. “They’ll grow back in a day or two. I’ve had my legs cut off way too many times to count.”

Your brows furrowed. “Jesus. You’re one of those Avengers folk, aren’t you? Fuck.” 

“Nuh-uh! That is so offensive. Just because I’ve got superpowers, doesn’t mean I’m an Avenger! I’ve been sending them my resume for months now, and they still haven’t gotten back to me.”

You had the audacity to roll your eyes. “Listen, hot-shot, I don’t know what I can do for you, then. I have a reservation I can’t miss. Are you gonna be okay on your own?”

“Ooh, reservation. Sounds fancy. Where are you going? You got a date or somethin’?” Here he was, bleeding out on the side of the road, and nonchalantly asking you about your love life. 

You blinked twice. “Yeah…” you started hesitantly. “Just down the street at that new vegan restaurant. It’s my first one with him and I don’t want him to think I’ve stood him up.”

“Must have a humongous penis to get you dressed up all fancy shmancy for the first date. At a vegan restaurant, no less! Listen, here’s a life lesson that I had to learn the hard way: vegans only gain happiness from two things and two things only—tofu and being mean to millennials on Twitter. Save your time,” he hummed glibly. You absentmindedly wondered if he was going loopy with the amount of pain he was enduring. Blood began dribbling from his nose and leaked past his cracked lips, and he sat up abruptly, spitting into his mask. “Oh, gross. Gross! Fuck, all I taste is blood now—Edward Cullen you nasty fucker. Look, I’m sorry to ask this, you seem like a really nice person and I really don’t want to drag you into my shit but I’m gonna drag you into my shit anyways. Do you have a place I could maybe lay low for a while? There’s this really awful alien after me and I don’t think I can take them without losing any more limbs.”

After a beat of silence, you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed heavily. God damn it—you couldn’t just leave him here alone, could you? “Yeah. Yeah, it’s just down a block. Let’s go.”

So, that was how you met him for the first time. Blew off a tofu-loving, millennial-bullying vegan (his theory, you never actually got to meet him), in order to save his ass from a goo parasite from space.

You quickly realized that this was nearly an everyday experience for him. It eventually became a routine pattern. He’d go out, get himself beat up by some otherworldly beings (there was that one time a gaggle of girl scouts beat him to a pulp, but he made you vow never to speak of that again). Then, he’d come slinking back to his apartment where he’d call you and whine until you begrudgingly agreed to come over with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s—specifically requesting the Hunka-Hulka Burnin’ Fudge flavor or he’d threaten to set himself on fire. Dramatic fucker. 

And sometimes he’d come to your apartment, dripping vermilion blood everywhere, or high out of his goddamn mind, or so drunk that he could barely formulate a coherent sentence. Usually it was some infuriating combination of the three. Nonetheless, you’d tuck him into your couch with a fleece blanket and a throw pillow he often complained smelled like nacho cheese, but he slept like a baby despite it all. 

And when you woke up? He was never there. No notes, no crude pencil drawings of dicks on your wall, no trace of him whatsoever. The process would continue to repeat itself a million times over, and you began to find yourself unsettled with your predicament. 

Who was Wade to you? A friend? A stranger? A man who occasionally slept on your couch and constantly made you worry for his well being despite knowing that he was practically immortal? 

The day you finally exploded at him, bombarding him with questions he had no answers to, he hadn’t meant to start yelling back. Insults were traded, scathing and cutting far too deep for either of your liking. He particularly remembered you hissing out, “Please, you can barely even function without me! You’re awful at taking responsibility for yourself, Wade! You don’t eat well, you barely ever sleep if not passed out on my couch, you’re always high or piss-drunk or beaten up halfway to hell! You know how fucking exhausting that is? Taking care of someone that doesn’t give two shits about you? I bet you wouldn’t last a fucking day without coming crawling right back up to my door on all fours! Like a little bitch!”

Wade knew you were just caught up in the heat of the moment—that this wasn’t really you. But damn if your words still hurt. 

The fact that so many of your angry tirades were falling upon deaf ears and a stonily blank expression only seemed to fuel your frustration more, pushing you to the brink of tears glossing over your reddened eyes. That night ended with you telling him to never come back, and you had to physically shove him out of your apartment, slamming the door with such ferocity that the floor rattled beneath his feet for a split second.

Wade had stood outside your door for a full minute before coming to and realizing just how much of an asshole he’d been. You didn’t owe him anything. Hell, the two of you barely knew anything about each other. He began knocking softly, asking you, begging you to open the door, apologizing over and over and over. Then, he proceeded in his attempts to bribe you—with chocolate bars, movie nights, free vegan dinners, the chance to shoot him in the ribs, he put it all on the table for you. He was in front of your apartment for hours. 

The door never opened. 

That was around six months ago.

Now, as he found himself back in front of your apartment after so long, things were different. He wasn’t wearing his superhero suit like he usually did, there were flashcards of what to say in his hands just in case he completely blanked upon seeing you, and clutched in his other palm were half-wilted flowers he scavenged in the back of an alley dumpster (listen, he didn’t have the time nor money to buy you proper ones, so it was the thought that counted). 

After rapping his knuckles against the wood three times, the door swung open. 

Fuck, Wade was nervous. Suddenly his sweaty fingers fumbled and flashcards were fluttering to the ground, making a mess of pink little cards, some filled with doodles of extremely realistic (a style commonly known as ‘stick-men’) depictions of what he thought he looked like while fighting bad guys, and other cards with his lines of what to say to you. He dropped to his knees, hurrying to grab at the scattered pieces of paper.

“I knew you’d be back,” you sneered, staring down your nose at him with thinly-narrowed eyes. “Jesus, Wade. It’s been… forever. I didn’t—I thought something might’ve happened—”

With a heavy sigh, you got down on your knees beside him, picking up some cards with a curious hum. “When I said you’d come crawling back to me on all fours… I wasn’t actually being serious, Wade.”

“Shucks,” Wade said, nervously taking the cards from you, uncharacteristically tentative. “And here I was thinking you were into that.”

Your expression immediately soured. “What do you want from me, Wade? Come to mooch off of me again? Make me care about you and leave just before things get heavy?”

“Y/N,” he breathed out, mentally going fuck it and setting the cards back down on the floor. “You’re wrong. All those months ago you said I couldn’t give two shits about you. I did—I do give two shits about you. In fact, I give so many shits that the toilet would be clogged with just how many shits I give about you! I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know how to care for someone properly. I don’t know how I’d do it right. But I wanna try. Please, Y/N, let me try.”

The way your jaw set made Wade swallow nervously. Then, the slight quirk of the corner of your lips made Wade tilt his head in surprise. “Are these… flowers? You got me flowers?”

“Yeah, but they’re from the dumpster.”

“No need to put yourself down, Wade. They’re lovely.” You took the wilting bouquet from his grasp with a mild grin.

He didn’t have the heart to tell you that he was telling the truth. Just as long as you didn’t stick your nose into them, he supposed he’d let you remain blissfully oblivious.

“So what are you asking?” you asked, thumbing the bruised stems of the flowers. “You wanna try being friends? Real ones?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that,” he whispered with a near watery chuckle. “Whose balls did I have to fondle in my past life to get lucky and crash into you all those years ago, huh?”

The way you wrinkled your nose in distaste made Wade snort. “Don’t be crass, fuckwad. I missed you, too, for the record. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean most of what I said that night. I was being really harsh for no reason. There’s nothing wrong with struggling with things like that, Wade, you just need a bit of help, is all.”

There was a beat of comfortable silence before Wade sighed, pushing himself up to his feet, dusting off his pants before offering you a hand up. You took it gingerly, opening the door wider for him to step in. 

Glancing once at one of his cue cards, he cleared his throat. “My name is Wade. Also known as Deadpool, founder of X-Force, and an Avenger-in-waiting,” he declared, gazing at you fondly. “I may suck at this whole living thing, but at least I look amazing while doing it.” When you shot him a halfhearted glare, he lifted his hands in surrender. “Kidding, kidding. I look like a chewed up piece of gum, let’s be honest. It’s nice to meet you… friend.”

The brilliant smile that painted itself violet over your features made just a slight fraction of the same expression mirror itself onto Wade’s face. “Nice to meet you, too. I think we’ll be getting along just fine.”

Wade Wilson wasn’t very good at living, but he liked to think he was just a little better at it now because of you.

[haruhey]

Mind If I Join You?

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.  

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.  

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙ 

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