#and make ur own!! these are just some ideas I came up on the fly haha

[shizunitis]

No, ur absolutely so right about Bingcest. Preach louder because like. It’s just so fun. Any reason why they would be doing it is so fun. Is Bingge fucking Bingmei to show him how he needs to fuck Shizun? Is it a domination thing? What crazy kinks would Bingmei learn from Bingge? How would he try and incorporate them with Shizun? So many questions. I want Bingge to bite Bingmei’s lips when they kiss.

anon i love you and am willing to go through the abyss for you empty-handed and with my hands tied. will give you my firstborn. thank you for letting me talk about this please never leave me

now that the bingmei rp is over, and keeping in mind that i am forever sleep deprived, in a vaguely bingge mood, and also very sorry for what that means for any passersby, here’s my answer. horniness and thoughts (hopefully coherent enough) under the cut

though i find the shizun sandwich version of bingcest to be extremely tasty and a great apperitif, i feel like the pure bingge-bingmei storylines my brain throws at me every now and then are so fucking good (read: hhNnNg) on their own.

a non-exhaustive list of some ideas i didn’t ever think too deeply about but like for reasons:

what if bingge is bingmei’s shizun.

what if bingmei gets stranded in pidw.

what if bingge accompanies bingmei in the abyss.

what if instead of only having bingge and bingmei, we also throw in oo!lbh into the mix and make this the worst throuple to have ever existed.

what if the system fucks up and there’s two binghe’s from the very beginning, twins or clones or whatever, and they brave the world on their own so as not to strain the washerwoman’s already precarious situation further than they did the first time around.

what if bingmei wishes very, very hard for a father during his disciplehood, and the system plops bingge into his world when shen yuan is mia.

what if bingge goes out and tries to find the svsss world again but ends up in oo!pidw.

what if bingge and bingmei live to the ends of their lives and meet after the universe is wiped as cosmic beings and they have incomprehensible sex to soothe the pain.

what if bingmei suspects bingge came back to steal shizun during the monthly wifeplots, and just jumps the gun and goes after the fucker directly.

what if modern au.

what if modern au where they’re separated at birth.

what if actual lab clones of each other!

et cetera (many more examples. none of which i can think of right now and if i’m being honest? half of these i thought up on the fly, so i was lying. fibbing. other words. never ever assume i know what i’m talking about)

in any and all these situations shen qingqiu and/or shen yuan could and perhaps should be integrated, but for my purposes he can take a moment to breathe. i’ll return him his husbands shortly.

back to the point: i love every iteration of bingcest.

bingge and bingmei being very alpha vs. alpha about fucking and literally fighting for dominance. bingmei being horrible at kissing and bingge getting annoyed with the teeth thing and showing him how to actually bite someone (stealing your desires as they perfectly align with mine, anon) and then finding out that what bingge would consider lowly and ignoble (is that how you use the word? probably not), bingmei blushes and whines for so prettily.

exchanging blood and it fails to do anything but induce arousal in the other and then using that as a way to torment each other.

i want the snapping teeth and the clawing and the violence. the almost-tangible, suffocating hatred and frustration. them choking on their leashes tied together without their knowledge. choking on them where the’re tied to opposite ends of the bed as they try to get to the other. and so forth

but soft bingcest works beautifully too. don’t know how they’d end up in that situation but i’m picturing it and it’s very nice.

bingge’s vanity and desire to be perfect projected onto his own self staring back at him, bingmei’s bratty disobedience challenging bingge’s desire to subjugate and conquer and take, all of this culminating in the two of them understanding their differences but also loathing them in a way. why is he different, he’s me, why can’t he understand, why isn’t he doing what i would, why does he hate me, the likes

oh!! bingmei should yell that at bingge actually. or growl it while he pins bingge down to get him to listen to him. and bingge should want to say, “are you stupid?” but holds back because now isn’t the time. where did the brat even get that idea from? he’s done everything he could to make him stronger, to make him realise that the world is a shit, cruel place and they only have each other in the end, and yeah it’s a shit hand to be dealt, but is it? is it really?

hm. don’t really know where that thought ends up but i’m pretty sure it ends up with both of them fucking unbearably tenderly (by their standards) in a forest somewhere.

anyway.

i don’t mean to exclude shizun because. i wouldn’t fucking dare? but bingcest is. it’s dear to me. i’m a bingcest purist if you’d like, but bingcestqiu/yuan is second on the list. third is mobingcumplane/moshangbingqiu but that’s another thing altogether

(i have no actual clue if there’s ship names for these already. surely there are?)

BUT. adding shizun into the mix is wonderful. i’ve rec’ed it before but through the eye of a needle is SUCH a good fic PLEASE give it a read it’s my favourite fic ever ever in the history of ever

i love the idea of shizun trying to tame these two idiots and failing miserably. i also love the idea of him succeeding. i want bingmei making bingge drink some ‘respect shizun’ juice and i want bingge to give bingmei some much needed ‘fuck shizun’ lessons. i want shizun to direct their every movement while he casually drinks his tea and pretends like he’s not foaming at the mouth seeing the two protagonists being “forced” to go at each other like they’re passionate, devoted lovers.

just.

bingcest…

there’s so much i want from bingcest. i want the guilt, and the confusion, and the rage! i want the angst! the territorial spats, the dick measuring contests (literal and metaphorical). the comfort! the. idk man they should be allowed to be horrible to each other, it’s not like they can die.

(holy shit what if one of them dies. fuck i’m exhausted but please. kill one of them and make the other revive him. somehow. maybe we can make regret of chunshan reality but it’s bingcest, if you understand)

but mainly i want the two pretty idiots humping each other’s thighs like teenagers. making bingge crawl for bingmei is also a very fun thought that would make him (plural) react in a very entertaining way. getting bingmei to power bottom is chef’s kiss when bingge’s on the other end. teaching bingge about the beauty of surrendering to his own self, which he does not trust with anything but also understands more than he’d like or wants to acknowledge is also neat. they would get up to degeneracies that i can’t speak of. i’m shy and also inarticulate about them

oooh also lebingcest. exactly the same as before but it’s better. because lesbian yaoi

[slytherinshua]

hi it's me again! hope ur day's been good, wasn't going to send more asks for a while since the last one but since you were asking for more soft thoughts AND make it magical this time, i had to 😣 thought of being like a village person who is very adamant that fairies exist and while strolling thru the field one day you just find yushi/sunoo laying there and surrounded by flowers and even tho u don't k anything abt him u make it ur thorough mission to accuse him of being a fairy and he's SOO mad at this bcuz not only were u rlly cute about it but he also was a fairy and he's not about to reveal himself bcuz he thinks ur cute 😭😭

SKDJKS STOP GOODBYE THIS IDEA IS SOOOO FUCKING CUTE??? okok i'm gonna do yushi bcuz i love yushi but this is also reminding me of my jaehee fic im writing lmfao cause he is a fairy in that as well although its a stardew valley au not magical BUT YUSHI AS A FAIRY!! wc: 1k. genre/warnings: fairy au. reader is very excitable. not proofread and soft thoughts so it's very very messy be warned this is really just a jumble of thoughts.

fairies were always shrouded in secrecy, especially in your village which was right next to a forest thought to be home to many magical creatures. the village leaders banned anyone from going into the forest due to its dangerous nature, but you've always wondered about it. there were a few books on fairies, but all the information in them was unconfirmed and more speculation than fact. some even swore that fairies were completely made up and didn't exist in the real world, but you always liked to imagine that they did, and maybe they even lived among you.

so, ever since you were little, you started to imagine your own version of what fairies would be like. of course, they would be breathtakingly beautiful and gentle. they would have magical powers and glitter in the sunlight. their presence would be so harmonious and lovely that even butterflies would flock to their side. maybe they could grow flowers with the touch of a finger or could fly around with butterfly like wings? your imagination was truly endless, especially when you were little. but once you got to schooling age, you started to get made fun of for your obsession with the mythical creatures.

although you insisted that they were real, your classmates just laughed at the idea, telling you to not kid yourself with fictional fantasies. but no one was ever able to truly shut you up about the idea. you still daydreamed about fairies unabashedly, no matter what anyone else thought about them. to you, they were real.

after an annoying encounter with a guy in the village who seemed adamant on winning you over, you decided to take a stroll through the flower field to clear your head. cursing the guy under your breath wasn't helping as much as you would've liked. not only was he ugly, and full of himself, he was also downright rude. you definitely weren't going to let him sour the entire rest of your day.

pink, blue, and yellow flowers were blooming all over the field. butterflies and bees buzzed around happily, caring to the sweet-smelling blossoms. you saw that the butterflies seemed to keep flying to one particular spot in the field. it piqued your curiosity, so you made your way over to that part.

immediately, your fantasies about fairies came flooding back to your brain the second you saw the boy lying on the ground. his ginger hair lay over his forehead perfectly, and light freckles adorned his pink cheeks. he was simply beautiful. the second you saw him, your breath was completely taken away. you were sure that if fairies existed, he must be one of them.

"so you do really exist? you aren't just fantasy." a grin spread to your face as you mumbled under your breath. you had been trying to not disturb the sleeping boy, but his eyes flew open as the words left your mouth. maybe fairies had supernatural hearing?

the boy sat up hurriedly, "what? me?" he blinked in confusion, finger pointing back at himself in question. a butterfly landed on his hand and he gently swatted it away, face heating up in embarrassment.

he would've been upset at his nap getting interrupted, but one look at you and all annoyance dissipated. you were really pretty. as a fairy, he really should've been more worried about coming into contact with humans, but it was too late to think about that now. you had seen him, and it wasn't like a vanishing spell was going to last long enough for him to get back to the forest. plus, there was no way you would suspect that he was a fairy. most people didn't even believe they existed nowadays. he was surely safe-

"you're a fairy, aren't you!?"

oh.

his eyebrows furrowed, "no. fairies aren't even real, why would you think that?" gaslighting was never his strong suit, but it was worth a shot either way, right?

"can you do any magic? can you grow flowers?" you didn't seem to have even heard his attempt at refuting you, as you were quick to throw a flurry of questions at him. what scared him the most was how accurate they were. how did you know so much about fairies?

"n-no, i said i wasn't-" he stuttered, interrupted by you shoving a flower in his face.

"try fixing it." you said simply before pulling off some of the flower petals. yushi's heart clenched slightly at the sight. he so badly wanted to reach out and repair it. the poor flower didn't deserve to die. but that would mean outing himself. the risk wasn't worth it.

you sighed as the boy just stared at you blankly, "so you really aren't a fairy? then why do you look like one?" you sat down on the grass with him, arms crossed over your chest in annoyance.

"how do you know what fairies look like? have you ever seen one?"

"well... no." you huffed in exasperation. he was right. "but you look exactly how one would expect fairies to look like! even butterflies can't stay away from you."

it was frankly unfair at how adorable you sounded trying to justify it, especially since yushi knew you were entirely right in your assumption. he could already imagine the look of pure joy and astonishment that would bloom on your face if you heard that he really was a fairy as you suspected.

would it really be so bad to reveal himself?

"what's your name, by the way? i'm y/n."

yushi thought for a second, weighing his options. he could tell you his name and that he was a fairy. he could tell you his name and leave you questioning whether he was a fairy of not. or, he could try to find a way out of the conversation altogether. he rather hated the last option. deciding that the second option was both the safest, and left him plenty of options, he went with it.

"...i'm yushi."

↳ nct wish taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @planetkiimchi,,

@haecien,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @hursheys,, @mjupis,,

@lilly-cherry7

[huckleberrykai]

choi soobin ~ birthday bunny

pairing: sub!soobin x sub!fem!reader summary: just two tired horny lovers messily helping each other out. genre: SMUT 18+ only MDNI warnings: subxsub (kinda both switches implied? but very subby lol), 69, very messy - mentions of cum, saliva, etc. uhhh some petnames, they call eachother bunny a lot notes: idea from mooniee! ur brain is giant. also i haven't written subxsub before so i hope this was a decent first attempt 😭 word count: 1k click here for my masterlist!

"please let me eat you out, i'll make you feel so good i promise~" soobin flashed his best puppy eyes at you in an attempt to get you to fold, before pressing more sloppy desperate kisses to your neck - as he had been doing most of the night.

"but it's your birthday bunny... wanted to make you feel good instead." you retorted. he sighed sweetly when your hand came up to brush through his soft hair.

"well since it's my birthday i get to choose." he whimpered into your ear. he hovered over you and pawed gently at your waistband - both of you still fully clothed, having spend the last 20 minutes desperately kissing and biting at each other - hips rutting together in a weak attempt at friction.

the day had been busy to say the least, having a get-together at the dorms for soobin's birthday followed by a chaotic attempt to visit a restaurant together where beomgyu managed to catch the table cloth and send everything flying onto the floor.

by the time you got back to your apartment, soobin was tired and desperate for you - sleepy and subby, wanting nothing more than to make you feel good and maybe get off against the mattress. you were having similar thoughts, completely ready to just let your boyfriend take over and use you as he wished ~ which got you into this situation.

your heads were deep in subspace, and neither one of you had the desire or the energy to take over.

"okay." you caved. if the birthday boy just wanted to be buried between your legs then so be it. he genuinely enjoyed giving you head, and damn did he show it.

"wait.."

while you tried to reposition yourself, soobin stopped you and laid back onto the bed. "turn around please."

you did as he said, letting him pull off your clothes as you sat back onto his bare chest, shirt lost along with your own. your back was towards him, and he gently tugged your backside up for you to sit on his face.

soft whimpers went from his mouth straight to your core as he took in your scent. the whimpers turned to full-blown whines when he took his first taste, your sounds now mirroring his own. you held onto his hips as he held you firmly against his face, sloppily making out with your cunt - soaked with arousal and now covered in saliva.

completely lost to the pleasure, your eyes had been squeezed shut since he started. upon opening them finally, you noticed how strained the bulge in his boxers was. well that can't be comfortable right?~

so like a good helpful girlfriend, you pulled his big cock from his boxers, pushing the waistband down.

"ah-" he reacted to the cold air hitting his hard-on. "mm.. please.. help." he muttered into your messy cunt. the tip was red and leaky, looking painfully hard and in need of your attention.

with a hum you leaned forward to grasp his pretty dick in your hand, smearing the precum down his shaft while he continued eating you out like his last meal - grip on your upper thighs bruising. you couldn't find it in yourself to care though when he started sucking on your clit, flicking his tongue over it while he moved a hand to your core, prodding at your entrance.

you moaned out louder than you thought, the sound slipping out without you being able to stop it. this only spurred your boyfriend on further, pushing two fingers into your weeping hole with ease.

you bent forwards, giving soobin better access to your pussy, and took his neglected cock into your mouth. "a-ah- fuck.. bunny- please" his words were incoherent, but the vibrations went right to your bundle of nerves - causing you to spew out a string of just as incoherent words when you pulled off of him. "soob- ah.. please.. please bunny oh-"

you swallowed thickly as you felt your high approaching, licking at soobin's dick and pumping him in your hand - sticky with saliva and precum, mess dripping down his balls and all over your hand and face.

so desperate to feel good and to please each other, you couldn't care less about the mess.

you took him into your mouth again, bobbing your head and keeping one hand on his hip for stability. he thrust his fingers into you quickly, now keeping his pace as fast and steady as he could while he suckled at your clit.

the room was loud with obscene squelches and desperate mewls, begging each other for release. each sound you made only stimulated his cock more, and you felt him twitch against your tongue.

"m' gonna.. fuck ah-"

before you knew it soobin was shooting thick, hot streams of cum down your throat right as you felt your own knot snap. you pulled off of him with a soft 'pop' and kept pumping him until you'd milked every last drop. he squeaked at the overstimulation while he lapped up your cum - earning a cute gasp each time he grazed your clit.

his cum was all over your cheek and hand, messy pool of spit at the base of his cock mixed with his own fluids. you weren't looking much better either - wetness and spit all over your spent pussy.

you climbed off of your fucked out boyfriend, turning to see the mess you'd made of him - cheeks and chin shiny with cum and spit and a big stupid smile plastered on his face, whispering "thank you bunny."

his eyes closed and he reached out to you with grabby hands to come cuddle with him. "m' love you soob. happy birthday." you breathed out as you snuggled into his chest. "i love you too baby."

you fell asleep before you even had the chance to clean up, but that was a problem for future you <3

smut taglist: @subbyjvnnie @mazeinthemoon @n0-thisispatrick @banggyu0308 @majestyjun

[obx-pogue4life]

GURLLLL URRR BACKKK!! Missed seein u on my dash! Idk if ur taking requests but I got this idea I can't get out the head

Friends to lovers

Beach party kegger

Kook likes u but ya shoot em down

Pulls gun and is really bad

Jj saves u, screams/beats the hell out the kook like a mad man

Y'all confess ur feelings

And maybe uses the words "all in" and sappy happy ending 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Oh my gosh I love this idea and I hope you like what I came up with. This is SO JJ 👀😂

All In

Warnings: fluffy with implied smut, kissing, guns, violence, swearing, feeling uneasy, drug use, fighting, protective JJ, crying, friends to lovers, happy ending, prolly more so let me know if I forgot any 💚

I couldn't believe what was happening. My best friend defending my honor, all because of some stupid kook who decided to crash this kegger with his friends. Everything was harmless enough at the start, just cat calling and some whistling, you know the kind; just your general disgusting, neanderthal behavior. It was bothering me for sure but I wasn't gonna let it get to me and ruin my good time with my friends. As the night went on I could see JJ getting more and more irritated with them and the second that kook put his hands on me, his fists were flying.  "DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER, ASSHOLE," JJ screamed at the kook who was trying to manhandle me into dancing with him and shoved him away from me. The kook comes right back at us and JJ immediately makes contact with his jaw, knocking him on his ass. He quickly recovers, gets back up and spits out a small mouthful of blood. 

"Oh you know you like it baby," he says to me with a wink. "You know you want a piece of this," he cockily smirks, lifting up the bottom of his shirt to show off his barely visible muscles. 

"And just what am I supposed to be looking at here," I say squinting and laughing as I brush him off. I hold my hand up to silently signal JJ not to charge at this guy and beat the living shit out of him. 

We begin to walk away and JJ snickers at his weak attempt to entice me. I sigh and roll my eyes but feel a rough hand reach out for me again, this time harshly yanking me back and hurting my arm. 

"Ouch, you asshole! What the hell," you say, a little shocked this guy was being so forward, especially with JJ right at my side. Usually the kooks just wanted to mess with me and my friends, hook up, be jerks and and occasionally get into the random fight over stupid shit. But this? This felt different, almost scary. 

"Now that wasn't very nice now, was it baby doll," he says to me in a creepy monotone voice. His eyes look frighteningly dark, like there is nothing but emptiness behind them. He sniffs loudly and wipes the underside of his nose with his thumb and it all clicks for me. I can see some white residue still under his nose. He must have just gotten high. "Greaaatttt," I think to myself as I try to shake his grip off my arm. The look on JJ's face right now was one I've seen far too many times. He was ready to kill this kid but I prayed he'd take notice of me shaking my head discouragingly and trying to make him realize that this dude was totally coked out. I pointed to my own nose and tried to get my message across to him, which thankfully he understood. The last thing I want is for him to get into a crazy brawl with a maniac, especially over me. A minute passed by and we all were just kind of standing there, unsure what he was going to do. He still had his hand around my arm and he was really beginning to hurt me but I didn't wanna say anything to make JJ lunge at him, so I just kind of took it the best I could. He could tell I was wincing though and mentally, I was preparing myself for the fight of the year. Surprisingly though JJ very calmly came towards us and apologized. 

"Hey, I'm sorry man," he said trying hard to sound earnest. "Sometimes I just get crazy over y/n getting attention from other guys, you know. That was my bad. I'm just very protective over her. I'm sure you can understand that," he says sincerely. I could feel my heart swelling inside my chest at his sweet words about me and had to snap myself back into the reality of the situation that was before me. 

"What I understand, is that your bitch,  needs to learn some fucking manners. It's not nice to laugh at someone whose just trying to show you a good time," he slowly drawls out, his grip on me becoming so tight, I nearly cry. 

He looks at me whimpering and laughs. JJ clenches his fists and takes a step forward but stops himself when he sees this kook force me onto my knees and notices a gun sticking out of the back of his pants. I start to talk back but JJ puts his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. I give him a funny look but he pleads to me with his eyes to just stay still and stop making noise. I catch on and quickly and stop but it's too late. The kook pulls out his gun and points it directly at my head. "I think someone needs to learn their place and say they're sorry," he says in that same creepy monotone voice. 

"YOU STUPID BITCH," he screams towards me. "I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU Y/N," he yells, tapping the gun repeatedly on to my head. 

I start crying immediately and I can't seem to make my mouth move. My entire life is flashing before me and all I can keep thinking about is "I can't believe this is how I'm going to die."  

I can hear JJ saying my name and he pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts but only long enough to hear that crazy coked out kook screaming again. "SHUT UP AND STOP TALKING TO HER," he yells at JJ. 

"No problem man, sorry about that," he says and slowly walks towards him. The kook is pacing in small circles and waving the gun around and all I can do is watch in horror. 

"Yeah she can definitely be a bitch sometimes," JJ chuckles, trying to defuse the situation. He winks at me and nods his head, making a full circle around the kook. JJ is standing in front of me now and immediately, I feel so much better. Even though I've never been so scared in my life, I almost feel safe now. Almost. 

The kook continues to pace back and forth as he and JJ talk about what a bitch I can be, laughing and making fun of me. Their words hurt but they seemed to calm the kook down. A few minutes later he plopped down in the sand and sighed loudly, dropping his gun next to him. He put his head in his hands and took a deep breath, starting at the sand. JJ looked at me and to the gun and I nodded as he immediately springs into action, knocking the kook backwards while I quick grabbed the gun and threw it into the water. JJ was on top of him, punching him over and over again, him now the one screaming. "IF YOU EVER COME AROUND HERE AGAIN! IF YOU EVER FUCKING LAY A HAND ON THAT PRECIOUS BODY! I SWEAR TO GOD I'LL KILL YOU! DON'T FOR A SECOND THINK I WON'T. I SHOULD KILL YOU RIGHT NOW YOU ASSHOLE FOR PUTTING HER THROUGH THAT! FOR PUTTING ME THROUGH THAT! FOR TRYING TO TAKE THE BEST THING I HAVE IN MY LIFE AWAY FROM ME! TRY THAT AGAIN AND I GUARANTEE YOU WILL NOT SURVIVE," he says punching him one last time, knocking him out cold. He was still alive but barely breathing. JJ saw the horror on my face and finally gets up off of him and rushes to my side. "Y/n! Are you ok? Are you hurt? Talk to me, please! Are you ok?," he begs me to answer him. I'm just kneeling in the sand beside this whole bloody scene and thinking about what just happened and I can't seem to talk or move. "Y/n? JJ gently shakes my shoulder and smooths out my hair. Y/N? He says a little louder, trying to get my attention," this time succeeding. 

I let out a broken shriek and lunge into his arms, so happy to be comforted by the man kneeling before me. "J.. I...," I sob, tears streaming down my face. "I thought I was going to die," I say hysterically. "I thought we were going to die." 

"I know darlin', I know" he coos into my ear as I continue to cry. "You know I'd never let that happen, y/n. You're safe with me, always," he says softly, stroking my hair and still hugging me tight. 

"Oh my God," I start to say through my sobs. "And you... you stepped right in front of me...," you try to finish your thought but can't get out the words.  

"I told you y/n, you're safe with me. I will never let anything bad happen to you," he says in a reassuringly soft voice. "I will always protect you." 

I nuzzle into his chest and move further into his lap and cling to him for dear life. I never wanna let him go and even though I'm still shaken, I feel truly safe now. With him. Just like this. 

"Now probably isn't the right time to tell you this," he says into the top of my head. He leans back a little and pushes me away slightly so I can look at him. 

"Y/n?," he says, gently brushing his hand over my cheek and resting it there. "I'm in love with you," he says shakily. 

My eyes go wide and I just stare at him as he leans his forehead against mine, sighing. "I've felt this way for so long y/n. Please? Say something? I thought I was going to lose you tonight. I can't stand to keep this from you another second. I'm sorry if this seems weird or out of the blue but I think I've honestly been in love with you since the moment I met you, I just didn't realize it until we were older. And then after everything that just happened, I know in my heart I had to tell you as soon as possible how I-," his words suddenly cut off and he's completely taken aback. 

I can't stop myself from crashing my lips onto his and finally getting to kiss my best friend. I have been waiting for him to say something and act on his feelings for years. It just figures that a near death experience is what would finally give him the push he needed to finally tell me how he feels. I pull away and let him cup my face again, his grin giving me butterflies throughout my entire body. "So does that mean....," he starts to say before I cut him off again. 

"I love you, too J. I've been waiting for you to say something for so long," I say to him, putting my head on his shoulder and hugging him again. 

"So you knew?," he asks me seriously. 

"I had a pretty good idea," I say leaning back up and facing him. 

"Why didn't you say anything?," he groans, throwing his head back and running his hand through his hair, chuckling. 

"Well...," I ponder aloud. "I just figured that you weren't ready for me to know yet and that you'd tell me once you were," I shrugged. "I didn't want to force your hand and try to start something you weren't ready for or sure about," I say genuinely. 

"I've always been sure, y/n. I guess I was just scared how you'd react...I didn't want ruin our friendship. I couldn't stand the thought of you rejecting me and not having you in my life so I guess I just took the safe route all this time," he says sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Well there's no turning back now, Maybank," I  smile at him. 

"All in?," he asks, cocking his brow at me. 

"All in," I agree nodding my head and grinning. 

He leans in to kiss me and the feeling of his lips against mine almost make me forget the events of tonight until we start to hear a rustling in the sand besides us. 

"Shit y/n! We better get out of here before that lunatic wakes up," JJ says helping me to my feet. He grabs my hand in his and we start to run towards the car. Never in all my life have I ever been in such a scary situation but at the same time, never in my life have I felt so safe and settled. Once we get to the car, he opens the door for me and asks me once again if I'm sure I'm alright. I say yes and he reluctantly takes my word for it and closes my door. He quickly runs around the back of the car and hops in, peeling out as fast as he can. "Where to, y/n?," he asks me. 

"Can I spend the night with you J?, I ask quietly. "I'm a little scared to go home to an empty house. Just for tonight?," I plead. 

"You can spend every night with me y/n," he says, taking my hand in his.  "Scared or not," he says bringing my hand up to his lips and kissing it sweetly. 

I smile happily to myself and tell him that sounds perfect, snuggling up into his side, still holding his hand, as he drives us home.

"Thank you," I say to him quietly. "For everything." 

"I'm just glad you're ok," he says, sighing as we turn onto his street. 

We pull up to his empty house and sit in comfortable but heavy silence for a minute, digesting everything that's happened tonight. 

"All in?," he asks me once again, staring straight forward out the windshield. 

I smile at him and lift my head off his shoulder, turning so I can see his face. He turns towards me slightly and l lean my head on to his gently. 

"All in," I repeat, smiling. 

He slowly places his lips on mine, brushing my cheek with his thumb and sighs contently into the kiss. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do that y/n," he says pulling away and staring into my eyes. I blush at his love filled gaze and smile sweetly, his words instantly bringing back all those butterflies. 

"And you have no idea how long I'VE been waiting for you to do that," I giggle, looking longingly from his beautiful eyes to his luscious lips. 

"Oh yeah," he questions flirtatiously, running his free hand through his hair. "Wanna know what else I've been waiting to do with you all this time," he smirks, wiggling his eyebrow at me. 

"I thought you'd never ask," I say laughing as he rushes to get out of the car and runs to my door to open it for me. 

He holds out his hand and helps me step out of the car and closes the door. Still holding my hand m, he leads me towards the door but stops just short of opening it. 

"I'm really glad you're ok, y/n... I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you," he says to the ground before turning around to face me. 

"And I'm really glad you're ok, J. The way you just leapt into action and stayed so calm. That was really smart thinking. You were so brave, that could have ended so badly for both of us. I don't know what I would have done either if something bad happened to you," I say and start to tear up again. 

"Hey now, don't cry y/n," he says brushing the tears from my eyes. "We're both safe and sound, nothing to worry about now," he says hugging me. 

"Now!," he says, sternly but silly, poking my side trying to make me smile. "TO THE LOVEMAKING," he playfully yells and hoists me over his shoulder. I giggle and roll my eyes as he quickly lets us into the house and runs us both up the stairs to his room, throwing me onto the bed and smiling at me like a love sick fool.  

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it! Let me know if you want a part 2! 💚

[evereverest2]

Terzomega Drabble — Fallen Angel AU

story is below the cut if you want to skip my rant!!

ok i’m a newer tumblr user but it’s time i put on my big boy boots and info dump all my creative thoughts about a random set of characters on a random post that no one will see !!! woo hoo !!

so i’m obsessed with catholic lore deeply interested in celestial/demonic terzomega, and the other day i wrote a little drabble that i wasn’t totally satisfied with but i figured i could post it here and maybe that would give me some more inspo.

my idea is catholic priest terzo/fallen angel omega. as far as terzo goes i thought it would be cute if he was like one in a line of religious men. like his dad was a pastor (priests cant fuck but pastors can😏) and all of he and his brothers became priests, and like he treats it more like a job but he really likes the attention and how ppl adore him. kinda like He Is vibes. maybe he’s a a lil filthy priest who knows :>

i wont get into why i think omega fell bc if i make this into a story i want ✨intrigue✨ but i see him as this greatly wise beast burdened with his own knowledge of the universe, harrowed by his fall, guilty and ashamed and unable to come to terms with it. he obvi fell much later than the other demons. the next step is supposed to be hell, but by some cosmic mistake or decision, he fell into a church, and because of that he couldn’t like, yk, fall through to be a demon bc demons aren’t allowed in churches, so he’s kinda stuck between. id assume at some other point other ghouls try to make him come to hell. ive been really into alpha lately so it would be hot if alpha came, and they had a history bc yk all demons were angels once, and they fought and stuff. yees.

so anyway, i wrote this drabble that i will put below. i wasn’t entirely satisfied with it for a few reason… 1) i didn’t quite have a grasp on either of their characters for this au, partly bc of Little Monster, partly bc i came up with this two days ago and haven’t thought about it since and two 2) i wrote it during a day that i was burnt out w writing so its not up to snuff imo.

so if you got through all that and u make it through the drabble, i would really appreciate any feedback u can give. it’s only 1.4k words, so about a 10 minute read if ur slow, prolly closer to five :> thank u in advance, have a splendid (day/night) time :D

—

“Have a good night, father.”

Terzo waved off the sister, watching the heavy doors swing shut after her in the dim candlelight, deafening the sound of heavy rain outside. He turned to walk up the aisle, all the way up the steps to the altar, ensuring along the way that everything was in its proper place. He smoothed a wrinkle in the corporal, tweaking the positions of the chalic and paten until everything was just so. He looked out at the dark recess and nodded.

Not a hair out of place. All was right and in its proper place.

From the heavens a great shatter sounded, like thunder and splitting wood. Terzo looked up. Through the roof came a great, dark, feathery beast that collapsed to the floor with a reverberating crack of the tiles and pews it landed on. The storm raged on above, rain pouring in from the newly broken ceiling, falling onto the collision below.

The being slowly rose to a stand. A large man with dusky skin, great horns, and black wings, dressed in a stained and drenched robe that hung limply from his impressive torso. He looked up to the hole in the sky, facing the rain that dripped onto his face. With a sweep of his wings he was airborn, only to careen away from the opening and crash down once more. He was like a bird trying to escape its cage, desperately flapping his wings, staring to the sky, unable to fly again. Before him was his own destruction, a ravaged church broken by his falls.

Terzo had quickly dove beneath the altar in his shock, watching him with a mix of disbelief and terror stirring in him like water rolling to a boil, threatening to spill over the pot in the form of a scream.

The winged creature was suddenly still, lying in a shattered pile of wood and tile, breathing heavily. A heavy silence filled the cavernous church forebodingly.

Terzo fumbled for the Bible in his pocket, yanking off his cross necklace. A series of prayers escaped his lips in a whisper, convinced the winged horror was some sort of demon. When it did not suddenly burst into flames from the holy smite of God, Terzo slowly approached the unmoving beast, Bible and cross held before him cautiously. Once he was only a few feet away, he cried out, “In the name of the Lord, begone, foul demon!”

Nothing happened. He repeated himseslf. Not a flinch. The thing just lay there, panting harshly like a wounded animal. He flipped through his Bible, repeating any prayer he could think of. Nothing.

The beast peeked an eye open from lying face down, a black eye with white pupils. Watching him. Terzo, startled, threw the Bible at him. He winced.

“Be… Not… Afraid…” He spoke as through every syllable was painful, a deep, sonorous voice that shook Terzo to his core.

He froze for a long moment, then had an idea. He dashed away to the baptismal font and scooped up a handful of holy water, then ran back to splash it on the creature.

“You are a demon! Go from this holy ground!”

He did not move. From his quivering lips, he spoke again. “I… am… God’s… servent…”

He closed his eye again, saying nothing more. There was something amiss. Despite how he had tried most everything he could think to dispel a demon, and it lie in his church, unaffected.

It was enough to give Terzo pause.

No matter what the terrifying beast was, he was in pain. Not from anything Terzo did, but from whatever had caused him to fall through the roof of his church. Regardless of what was to be done, the winged man could not stay in the church.

“Err, excuse me. How do I… help you?” Terzo ventured.

No response. Terzo thought for a moment. There was no way he could lift him, or even drag him. He was enormous compared to the compact priest, with humongous wings to match.

“Could you walk?” The weak eye opened again. Terzo said, “I will take you somewhere more comfortable, si?”

He stirred suddenly, stumbling to his feet, hunched over and clutching his own ribcage. Terzo, unsure, began walking towards the doors. The beast slowly followed.

He locked the door behind him, trying to ignore that his precious church had been destroyed and how the winged man stared at him intensely. A problem for the morning. He led the creature across the street where his refractory was, his home. Luckily, no one was around to see them in this late hour, and even then, it was pitch black outside. The storm had shorted all the power, including the street lights.

Terzo led him to an empty bedroom on the ground floor, which held a rather small bed compared to some others he had, but Terzo was worried about him being able to walk much longer, let alone up stairs.

“Lie down on this,” Terzo instructed, pulling back the blankets. He hardly made it through the doorway with his large wings, but once he squeezed through he instantly fell onto the bed, making it bounce violently with the weight.

“May I… err… touch you?”

Not even a reaction. He seemed half ready to die on Terzo’s spare mattress.

Terzo pulled away the stained robe from his torso. The fabric indeed obscured a glistening wound sat between his lower ribs. Surprisingly, it was not bleeding as much as he would have expected, but it was concerningly deep.

Terzo hurried in and out with supplies to aid the poor thing. He bandaged the wound carefully, then moved on to examine the rest of his body. He was unable to flip him over, but he undressed him to ensure there were no more deep wounds. He wore no undergarments, and once Terzo was certain he had no other pressing injuries, he drew a blanket over his waist to grant him some modesty.

He gently felt for any broken bones, picking out any splinters he found along the way from his encounter with the church roof. There were bruises, which he could just barely make out on his purple skin, and he slathered them with cream. Given the nature of the fall, Terzo was surprised it was not more injured. He figured it must have been suffering from exhaustion more than anything, though he was no doctor.

After nearly an hour of tending to the strange being, Terzo sat back, exhausted. The man lay breathing heavily still from what Terzo surmised was a nicked lung. Even in unconsciousness, his face was pinched in pain, distress. Sometimes fangs would flash from his lips, as if growling at an invisible foe. He certainly looked like a demon, though something in Terzo’s gut told him not to worry.

That was, until he awoke.

Just when Terzo was beginning to wonder if he should call someone, the man sat up, his arms held defensively in front of him. Terzo stood, stumbled back in fear. The beast froze in place, staring at nothing. He looked down at his bandaged side, then at the small priest who had fallen to the ground in terror.

“No—” he breathed out, then clutched his wound in pain.

Terzo clamored to his feet and said, “You should lie back down, signore.” He very gingerly touched his shoulder, prompting him to lay back once more.

“I—” he huffed, wincing again.

“Do not speak. I think it is your lung,” Terzo awkwardly clasped his hands together. “...Although you may tell me if you are a demon.”

He shook his head, staring desperately at him. “No, I—” he gasped, “fell—”

“Let’s not worry, hm? As long as you do not plan to kill me, you should be resting. Then you may chatter all you wish.”

He opened his mouth, but said nothing. Instead he stared at Terzo with an unreadable gaze, one that made him more uncomfortable the longer he stood there.

“Do you… Eat?” he asked uncertainly. He shook his head. “Err.. Yes, well. I will let you rest. Just… let me know if you need something.”

After another thick pause consisting solely of staring, Terzo left the room. Just outside he fell against the wall, clutching his chest, his nerves jumping from his skin.

What was he doing?

—

ik im annoying thanks again for reading if u have ANY thoughts good or bad just give em to me any way u know how i SO appreciate it ur the best B)

i wrote a smut drabble for this concept LMFAO

[lukewarmsoapytoast]

UGH the URGE to just spam this acc with angst writing is INSANE. Sadly, I haven’t written a full-length read in a while, I’ve had college classes in the mornings and I get busy in the afternoons. So, my point is, HERE’S SOME QUOTES I CAME UP WITH OR WANT TO USE‼️‼️

Please only reuse w/ credit!

Most of these taken from irl because it was funny 😭

LET ME KNOW YOUR OPINIONS AND WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE WHAT QUOTES AND SUCH IN!!!

Quotes

•

"Of course you do, and you’re going to regret those bad decisions in the morning when you’re sober."

“What morning?”

•

“You ignore my requests like they’re food allergies at a foreign restaurant and you wonder why I wanna hang out with girls more.”

•

“I wish I could love you, too.”

•

“It’s because I’m in love with you.”

“Because you wha—oh my god, it all makes sense now.”

•

"Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. But you can't laugh, okay? Promise me you’ll listen without judgment."

“I mean unless you say that you managed to kill a god, I won’t laugh.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

•

“My love…You— You know there isn’t any recovering from this, the medics won’t arrive in time, I-I’ll die. I deserve to be made fun of for being that stupid, but I don’t regret my choice…saving you was my goal overall in life, my purpose, and I succeeded..I can die happy, but you need to let me go, first.”

•

“And how am I supposed to believe you, huh? You wanna bring that fucking whore in to confirm that you still love me? That you regret fucking her over and over, and over, repeatedly, on our own damn bed??”

“[First Name], I—”

“It’s [Last Name] now, that’s what you’ll be referring to me as. No more pet names, no more first name. Goodbye, find somebody else to manipulate.”

•

“Dude, you literally shot me.”

“I was beat as a child, do you hate me, do you want me dead, I know you do, I understand—”

•

“I have a penis and it isn’t mine. ��️”

“Uhh, what?”

“You heard me.”

“Where r u rn??”

“I’m w ur mom”

“Bruh”

“The party you told me not to go to.”

“Omw.”

•

“If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

“😈”

“Uh oh? Please tell me you haven’t written an essay about this already and I happened to send that around the time you finished it.”

“I think I'd have the ability to persuade people. It's nothing special but imagine how much success you could end up having and also how many people you could befriend. I like having friends. ALSO you can stop any wars with just a "Stop pretty pls 🥺👉👈" like it's the best superpower. You could save the world with it basically, screw pollution”

“Dear god, keep going. I’m interested.”

“People who wanna fly are confusing, like, go skydiving or something like that, pull a hiccup from HTTYD. And why obtain invisibility when you can just tell people you aren’t there?”

“Wait, you’ve got a point.”

“Somebody asking why we’re stalking them? Hit them with the ‘NUH UH! I’M NOT EVEN HERE, BABY! I’M A HALLUCINATION!’. That’ll win.”

“Oh my god you’re onto something.”

“Someone trying to end the world? Nope. ‘Pretty pls be a good person 🥺’ them.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since you asked.”

“YOU THOUGHT THAT UP THAT QUICKLY???”

•

"What if he thinks I'm being dense?"

"Then he'll stop liking you. Problem solved."

Ideas

•

When they're constantly assuring as they lay dying, "I'm fine, I'll be okay, don't worry about me, l'll live." But their final words, whispered, barely audible,

"I don't want to die."

•

“I’ll be there for you”, “I’m sorry”, “I love you”, over and over again. “don’t hurt yourself”, “We need a break”, “I need you”, All of this, but you never mean it. Never. Not when I need you, your mistakes are a record on loop, your love is as present as my father. You don’t care if I hurt myself, especially because you hurt me. Can this break last forever? You need me to do as you say, you don’t need me there.

•

If HS!Gojo had a crush he’d confess like this:

(Texting)

“Let’s go on a date, do you like sex? Lol. <3”

•

Chr picks up a completely dry and closed jar of salsa.

“Salsaaaa…”

Something drips on their toe.

“Is…Is it wet?”

Frantically checking the jar for water droplets or cracks. Nothing.

“Excuse me???”

Confused.

“WHY???”

Concerned.

•

Father telling small adopted demon child to stay behind while they search for a plushie.

"Perhaps you should stay here, honey. This is no place for a child anyways. I'm sure we don't want you getting kidnapped by some kind of murderer, do we?"

"👹" Foaming at the mouth.

"Dear god, what have I done?"

•

Two characters arguing in a group chat over who’s hotter and it turns into an argument over who would be a better boyfriend to you. This is how you make your grand entrance.

“What did I just stumble upon at this very unfortunate hour. I wish to die.”

[intoloopin-archive]

5 & 12 for haruki!

if u could restart ur career completely, would u still choose to become an idol?

"No," the word comes flying off Haruki's mouth, not a hint of hesitation. "Not at all, no. The whole reason why I ended up here is because I had no other choice. I came to New Wave looking to be a backup dancer, at first. I remember just barging into the reception, saying to all the staff around in very bad Korean, 'Just put me some place in the back, just– just let me hang around for a while. I might get deported if no one helps me’. I never got to do just that, just dance. There’s never a ‘just that’ in New Wave Music.”

"But I'm not too unhappy about my career as it came to be," he adds, an afterthought. "It’s bearable. It’s fine. My members make it entertaining enough.”

was there ever a time when ur group nearly disbanded? an issue between members or maybe a company decision... what led to it?

"One time, back when we were still training, more or less three months until Boy Of The Week was schedule to end,” Haruki prompts, trying to paint the scene through smooth hand gestures, “Minwoo, Seungsoo and I decided to kick some people out of the pre-debut lineup our own way. I don’t know what they were thinking. I know what I had in my head but I have no idea what they were thinking. I guess that at that point in time we were all a bit delirious. They cornered me after practice one day and laid the idea out to me, and I wanted to play along, I wanted to get rid of Alex – so we each picked a guy and targeted them how we could. They were gone in a week, one right after the other, which didn’t go by unnoticed by the people high up.”

“Chanhyuk was very mad when he found proof of Minwoo messing with Woobin. He was bleeding money out like a madman by the end of our debut project, and I really think that if he weren’t so certain the deal with J.J’s dad would work, he would have canceled LOOPiN on the spot that day.”

[burning-bubble-tea]

I actually ran into a fanfic that was friends of superheroes and it was good but also slightly frustratingly close to the vibe I’m thinking of.

The fic ended with the two civilian friends becoming “guys in the chair” and like well n fine n cool n all that it’s very much “wow my civilian friends conveniently have knowledge on a specific topic so they can be useful in these situations only!”

It’s giving “everyone can be heroes” which is very true and real, but also I dunno, I’m looking for more civilian friend overwhelmed with their superhero friend rather than, civilian friend learns how they can be heroes too or whatever.

Like in the story both civilians were in school and had knowledge that conveniently helped them solve a case. And like that’s one sorta result of having civilian friends be impactful to the plot, they kinda need to be knowledgeable about something that the heroes are not.

A random example I just thought of is like I have no idea what show this is from but I vaguely remember a superhero thing where like some sorta fictional thing came to reality and the superhero needs to ask the nerds what to do to defeat it or whatever.

Like “oh no this supervillain made pikachu real and pikachu is evil! But oh no I as a superhero don’t know anything about Pokémon!”

“Never fear, I random civilian in the crowd that’s probably like a kid or whatever will scream his weakness is the ground!” And then a bunch of civilians will agree in unison and with their help I save the day but yeah you kid who told me pikachu is weak to the ground is the true hero today.

I want an exploration of what it’s like to be friends with a superhero and not be completely wrapped up in the super world.

Also controversial yet brave, why are the superheroes going to post secondary education when they could be like part time students at the most, like I get you can skip classes in uni and still pass with flying colours but like gosh. “Hi I’m Damian Wayne and I have time to be a full time student and fight crime” is the second most unrealistic element of superheroes besides their powers and gadgets.

I think in invincible Mark gives up on going to uni once his superhero career takes off.

Like I mean I guess if you don’t plan on being a superhero forever definitely keep ur options open but like let’s say you’re Damian Wayne and you don’t wanna be a super hero anymore, and let’s even say you’re not the son of a billionaire. You’re still a highly skilled acrobat and swordsman. Go to the circus, do drag I dunno.

I’d write my own fic but I’m still unlearning cringe and it’ll definitely be a bit self insert-y which is FINNNE but hhhhhh. Also side note I like how my self insert-y things is often not actually inserting myself per se but creating a character and then imagining how that character would deal with the situations I have ended up in/how I think myself or others I know would react in x situations.

I just think there’s fun to be had in the humanizing that civilian friends would do to a superhero I like.

Also I think celebrating the civilian friends and showing how they’re just as important as the supers because all life is valuable. Like a lot of superhero shows have an all life is valuable spin and like the superheroes are sacrificing their time n lives but also there’s no need to place value on lives, inherent existence is enough. Like obviously multiple things can be true, one person saving other people is amazing and like if I had to like choose me be sacrificed over superhero who can save more people if they stay alive sure I’d be tempted to make the sacrifice despite my love of living hahahahahah

Like objectively firefighters are doing a lot more physical tangible effects on making the world a better place than someone who isn’t a firefighter. But like that doesn’t mean it’s a hierarchy. People make each other happy and that is so beautiful and important.

I want the vibe of a civilian making a superhero happy so they’re friends. They enjoy each others company.

Also I like the idea that their friends still have to be briefed on security procedures to maintain secret identities for their own safety hahahah

Honestly a big reason why this is on my mind is I read a fic where there was a one off joke about how none of the characters were dating civilians and it was because they said “civilians are boring”. And like haha funny, and kinda true, a civilian wouldn’t understand what fighting alien invasions would be like and wouldn’t be able to compare it to. And like yeah, you just fought a supervillain I don’t think my anecdote of me defeating Helen from HR with a sick rebuttal email will be as engaging. And maybe I’m just insecure and have a weird desire to be perceived as unique and special because I had so many of my traits assumed due to stereotypes that I crave individuality and uniqueness and also cause I’m an attention whore.

But like it’s also sorta weird, your job is to save civilians and then a superhero going “they’re boring” removes themself from the very world they’re protecting. It creates a hierarchy that looks down on civilians and it’s never nice to be looked down on.

Like I’m not going around claiming I’m an equal to a firefighter who has actually physically saved lives but that doesn’t mean it feels any better for a hero to call me boring or useless.

But also I did love the fic. I do love when people can find ways to help in situations where they feel out of depth so the fic still scratched that itch. But I think the weird ideas I’m thinking of are probably only gonna be realized if I write the damn thing myself.

[pesterloglog]

Roxy Lalonde

Act 6, page 5462-5466

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering undyingUmbrage [uu]

TG: psst hey calliopes bro

TG: i got

TG: a secret message 4 u

TG: it is

TG: ehehm

TG: CALLIOPE

TG: ....

TG: sooooooooo

TG: did that work

TG: calliope calliope calliope

TG: is 3 times the charm

TG: come onnnnn

TG: wake up sleepy head!

TG: le

TG: SIGN

TG: maybe youre just afk?

TG: i hope ur dumb POS brother doesnt end up reading this instead

TG: man i wish you would wake up

TG: rly wanna talk to a friend about everything that just happened

TG: i mean another friend who is not part and parcel to my 3 bffs ridorkulous nonsense

TG: guess ill just give u the scoop on the haps for whenever you wake up

TG: so yeah we all finally entered our game

TG: i think i was being the worst kind of turd 4 opposing the idea so long

TG: guess i thought i was being noble

TG: like sacrificing something that was important and we all wanted anyways just so i could fuck with the witch and her plans

TG: but i dunno what i was thinking

TG: cause this shit here is p great i have got to say

TG: now we are all of the sudden in this crazy place full of pretty green hills and a black empty sky

TG: i never actually seen anything like plants growin or a country side

TG: its so peaceful and quiet here

TG: i mean the racket my loudmouth pals are makin notwithstanding

TG: we are just chilling at jakes old broken house on a mountain figuring what to do

TG: lol this all happened so fuckin fast!

TG: i cant believe were all together like this suddenly

TG: just

TG: hangin out

TG: in actual person

TG: in our moon jammies

TG: this is better than i ever thought it would be in the silliest and stupidest way

TG: it feels so surreal and amazing just being here with my friends

TG: im still not even sure how this all came together

TG: mostly a lotta machiavellian/heroic XTREME STRIDER BULLSHIT

TG: like i was under attack there

TG: my colony was burning

TG: and i remember dying

TG: and i think jane must have died too?

TG: she was on derse but i have no idea how she got there

TG: i dunno if jake died too or what

TG: all i know is ppl were just dying their asses off left and right

TG: the b line is we were all in some shit

TG: dirk i think must have killed himself and like shipped his own head to jake on makeout mountain

TG: but dirk also kissed me it would seem

TG: while i was too dead to notice UNFORTUNATELY :c

TG: but then i woke up on derse which was gettin worked over by the red shit too

TG: and there jane was

TG: all lyin there bloodily and heart breakingly and probably dead

TG: so

TG: i knew i had to kiss her

TG: but

TG: god i feel so pathetic but i just couldnt do it for some reason?

TG: i wanted to but i guess the blood grossed me out and im a total disgrace of a friend

TG: i dont think ill tell her because its too embarrassing

TG: then dirk wakes up and kicks my squeamish butt out the way and kisses her even in spite of his superhuman gayness because he sucks less as a hero

TG: and then were blasting off suddenly on his fuckin rocket and i dont even KNOW whats happening but its all so awesome and we scoot by somewhere and pick jane up in her yellow dress and now SHES flying with us screamin the whole time hahahaha

TG: and then we get to jakes place and shit everywhere is on fire and hes asleep there so dirk splashes him with a bucket of ocean and tells me and jane to hide??

TG: so we do and jake wakes up and starts arguing with dirks gross head from the fucking future and climbs up on this stone wall for some reason and just starts making out with the head while the volcano explodes???

TG: jane and i are like what the absolute FUCK while dirks just there with his bucket all like 'yup'

TG: then we ollied out of that popsicle stand so now here we are

TG: wow

TG: that story is a goddamn mess

TG: what did i even just say

TG: i dunno

TG: ill try to make better sense of all this later

TG: i just wanted to tell you

TG: and thank you for all you did to bring us together like this

TG: it has meant so v much 2 me

TG: oh guess what i even have a new lightning bug pal!

TG: he is toties cute + friendly + blinky as all getout

TG: i think i will name him

TG: doctor blinkbottom

TG: no thats shit

TG: how about

TG: twinkly herbert

TG: lmfao that is kinda sucky too

TG: but i like it

TG: so i am a keep it

TG: herbert just blinked in total agreement omg what a friend

TG: ok calliope

TG: by which i mean.......

TG: CALLIOPE

TG: eh?

TG: ehhh???

TG: still nothin?

TG: k well i should go then

TG: my party is getting a lit bit rowdy over there

TG: oh my god what are they actually doing

TG: not even ten stinkin mins into our magic bestfriendquest and theyre already jacking up the drama

TG: need to flag down the dramambulance

TG: haul these fuckers away

TG: wow they are really being so absurd

TG: maybe its just cause im not tipsy atm but this shit is like hells of amateur hour to me r now

TG: maybe if i wasnt as sober as a nun gettin slapped by a librarian i wouldnt even notice?

TG: fa reals tho may i just say

TG: dying is a hell of a way to sober up quick

TG: got 2 remember that trick

TG: so hey wake up soon!!

TG: i will try again later

TG: must deal w some shit now

TG: urgh

TG: i think

TG: i could use a drink

tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering undyingUmbrage [uu]

[lilyvines]

Hi, can we get a bit more info on the Mundane(protagonist tommy and magic something everybody else au)? Like plotpoint, meetings? Im trying to bully myself into writing a fic

absolutely!! i would love it if you wrote a fic :D

also tons of people put cool ideas too so if you ever want more inspiration you can always look in the notes of the post!!

-Phil is a literal angel. like wings and everything. he doesn’t even hide them, but every single day, Tommy makes a joke about how Phil is a furry

- continuing with that, since I believe in death!kristin propaganda, Kristin is a goddess. Phil is an angel. Wilbur is a supernatural creature. Dream is a supernatural hunter. It makes dinner with dream incredibly tense, but Tommy is oblivious. Technoblade is just chilling

-Tommy: after dinner, Wilbur can sing us a song!

Dream, narrowing his eyes: what kind of song?

Wilbur, who probably has magic voice powers or smth idk: the kind you’ll never want to stop listening to (:

Tommy: omg wil can u play soft boy :D :D

-obviously Wilbur Phil or Kristin never actually fight with dream, it would make Tommy upset. So instead they’re just incredibly passive aggressive with each other

- there’s running theories within the magical underworld about what Tommy is to have attracted this much Crazy. Some people think gang leader. Some people think he’s some kind of magnet for the powerful. truthfully he’s just kinda Dumb

- a while ago, someone from one of the other’s Secret Lives tried to kill Tommy. Obviously they didn’t succeed, and Tommy didn’t even notice (bonus points if he completely accidentally evaded them and their attempts). But ever since then, everyone came together and decided to have someone stay with Tommy at all times. He hasn’t even noticed he has a guard, he just calls them clingy

- everyone else in like. the world knows gnf is actually [insert secret popstar name here] they just haven’t mentioned it out of politeness. Tommy on the other hand just genuinely has not noticed. George thinks that he’s an illusive master of disguise and is great at keeping his secret identity (he is not)

- there are 2 betting pools that end up getting set up amongst their friends. 1 that says whether or not Tommy knows or not. When it is eventually realized that he does not know, they set up a betting pool for when he’ll find out.

- technoblade bets a large sum of money it will happen soon, and since he doesn’t make a habit of losing, he dyes his hair bright pink to look like his magical girl counterpart. Tommy says that it looks good, and notices nothing else. Technoblade’s attempts continue to ramp up in ridiculousness until he comes out wearing a literal sailor moon outfit and a sign that says ‘I AM A MAGICAL GIRL’

- Tommy does not realize

- at one point, Tommy sees dream’s collection of super dangerous monster hunting stuff (I always think of dream as like a Winchester style hunter but u can adapt it ofc) and he just goes ‘wow dream you have a lot of guns. It’s the American in you, huh’

- he sees all of dream’s demon fighting stuff and goes ‘huh. Never knew you were catholic.’

- Tommy gets invited to tubbo’s giant lab where he develops his nukes and things. Instead of making the connection that his bestie is a mad scientist he just goes ‘wow tubbo you never told me you made props for a living.’ He then proceeds to get incredibly distracted by something completely unrelated to the nukes and forgets he’s in a giant lab

- I am a big supporter of adopted Tommy so I like to think he’s just a random kid they found on the street and since Phil tends to adopt any child shaped object that looks at him, he just like came home. Originally sbi had this hard time deciding whether or not to hide their secrets before going ‘it would be too hard to hide, we should just leave it out in the open instead and he’ll just figure it out’

- he did not, in fact, figure it out

- most of the supernatural underworld just does not understand Tommy, they all think something is like up with him, so they mostly don’t bother him. But every now and then he’ll get lost or something and a remarkably intelligent crow will show him the way home

- Tommy comes home and is like ‘I followed a crow home!’ And Phil thinks he’s gonna figure it out. In reality, Tommy just thinks there’s a crows nest in their house. He’s very excited

- since there are no birds in their house, he gets sad. Cue the rush from all of these incredibly cool and powerful people as they scramble to get some birds in the rafters. Tubbo builds some fake ones. Ranboo buys an industrial sized bag of bird seed. Wilbur tries to use his voice to charm them. dream and techno pour over spells and magic that would attract birds. Phil asks every bird in 40 miles to come live with him.

- eventually gnf shows up with a bunch of birds in a box. They come to him. He’s a Disney princess. He’s georgenotfound

- the birds make Tommy very happy. All is right within the world

[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.

──── ⋙ 

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired​ @phoenixblack89​

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[writteninverses]

hi hello this is like the most perfect ask game ever ?? love ur writing sooo much . so i will say either number 1 bc it is a classic or number 17 . take your pick!! oh, and james/regulus xx

HI HI!! thank you so much for this ask, i truly appreciate it <3333 and wow you chose two prompts that are just so heartbreaking (taste) but i've chosen number one because it is indeed a classic. thank you so much again, you made my week with this!!!! xx

1. sorry about the blood in your mouth, i wish it was mine.

Regulus Black was firm on the idea that love hurt. That it was painful, a catastrophe. Doomed from the beginning. He swore off from love the moment he never saw his uncle Alphard again; when Andromeda left in order to keep on living; when Sirius left in order to survive. How could Regulus believe in love when he was haunted by the ghosts living in the place he was supposed to call home?

 He’d been drowning for a long time.

The instant his eyes fell upon the figure of James, he knew he’d never love anyone like that. Walking the corridors, fast paced, almost like flying. Regulus felt invisible except when James looked at him. He made the younger boy feel like the core of James’ truest and most honest feelings. Regulus didn’t think he deserved it. First crack.

“I just- I just think that you would be better off without me, don’t you see how tortuous this is? How painful is it to keep this pantomime going on any longer?” Regulus was bracing himself, creating a shield of flesh and bone.

“Loving me is painful?” A mere whisper came from James’ trembling lips.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, but you did.” Regulus looked at James and he saw a broken boy. 

Can’t you see the damage I've done to you? My beautiful boy, I am so sorry.

They looked at each other, breathing heavily, far from one another.

“Je t’aime.” Regulus said. He was making a stance, he was being brave for the both of them. And James knew it.

James embraced the other boy and kept him between his arms, surrounding him with the beating of his strong heart.

“I’ll always love you, love. My love.” James promised like an oath.

It felt true, long lasting. It felt like a goodbye too.

Second crack.

Regulus is on the side seeing how the people he used to call his friends are hurting James. He is paralysed, he doesn’t know what to do.

 James is not his anymore, He is still James’.

Regulus sends curses everywhere, almost like prayers. He can’t lose him now, not like this. People from the Order come, but Regulus manages to take James’ hand and apparate in his safehouse. 

James throws up, dizzy from the fight and the sudden change of scenery. Regulus rubs circles on his back. He sees blood on James’ mouth and wishes it was his instead.

What’s yours is mine and vice versa.

James sits on the heels of his feet and looks at Regulus.

“What have you done, you fool?”

“I saved you, that’s what I did. And I’m giving us time.” He brings his hand to James’ bottom lip and wipes the blood.

“Regulus…” James sounds defeated. Regulus lifts his chin.

“This is it, mon amour.”

Third crack, broken glass.

Regulus’ heart has always been made of glass and James’ love grew flowers in it. They are decaying. Regulus is exhausted. He is tired of decaying.

James had never seen Regulus’ eyes as dark as they were now. Regulus kisses his forehead.

James is on his knees and he hugs Regulus’ waist, face on his belly. Regulus caresses his hair while the older boy cries.

“I’m so tired, Reg, so tired.” He says between sobs and Regulus’ heart breaks more. It is completely shattered at this point. Broken glass everywhere and every step he takes he draws blood on his feet.

“I know, love, I know. I wish I could take us somewhere safe, some place where we won’t have to fight anymore. Where we fight our own battles and not someone else’s.” He helps James to get up and they sit on the sofa. James immediately makes home on Regulus’ side, hiding his face on his neck. He leaves a kiss there and Regulus shivers.

“Thank you for saving me, I don’t know what this can mean to you, if they’ll hurt you more or punish you severely. But I am so happy you decided to bring me here, even if it’s selfish.”

Regulus doesn’t reply instantly, but he eventually says, “you weren’t fighting back. Why?”

“I tried to at first, I swear. But there was a moment in which I thought of letting go. I think when one of them punched me in the face I lost consciousness for a bit and I forgot I was supposed to punch back. And then I saw you and how you were fighting them for me and then took my hand and made us disappear. Just like an angel.”

“I am far from that, you know it.” Regulus lifts the hem of James’ shirt and soothes the skin on his hip.

“Why did you have to join them?”

“Come on James, not this bullshit again. I won’t fight you over this.”

“You had a choice, you always had.”

“You never fucking asked, did you ever ask? No, you just told me off because it hurt you, you just cared about your own feelings and how this was making you feel. You never told me to join you and when you got mad it was already done. So don’t come now telling me shit about how I had a choice because I never had one. It was this or they would have taken Sirius, whatever it took. Thank me for that.” Regulus spats and he looks away.

James stands up and goes to the bathroom, without saying a word. Regulus lets himself cry for a second. He is giving himself one second to let the tears wash down his face. He hears the tap running, James must be washing his hands.

He comes back and stands in front of Regulus.

“I’m never going to regret you, alright? Whatever happens.”

Regulus stands up too.

“If you had asked, I would have stayed on my knees. Even if it was painful. I’ve always been devoted to you.”

“You erased us, Regulus.”

“It was our doing. We both did it.”

James sits down and rests his elbows on his thighs, covering his face.

“I miss you. I miss us. I miss you so much.” 

Regulus crouches in front of him, putting his hands on James’ knees. 

“James, look at me, please.” And James does.

Regulus touches his cheek, letting the tears pool over his finger.

“You have to let me go. You have to set me free.”

“How can you ask me that, love?”

“It is what needs to be done. This is the last time, do you understand? This is the last time you are going to see me and you have to keep on fighting because I am not going to be there to help you. You’ve saved me so many times and I returned the favour, so now I am asking you to find reasons to go on. I love you so much it hurts everywhere, you are everywhere, James. You are all over me and I need you to let me go.”

“But, Reg I-”

“I am always going to be yours, James. Nothing can change that. This is set in stone. I am yours and I'll always be. But you are not mine and I want you to realise that. Can you kiss me now?”

James cups Regulus’ face with his hands and kisses him. It’s gentle and kind and all the things James is. 

Regulus feels warm for the first time in months. He is 18 and he feels at home again. He is 18 and he feels invincible, just like he did when he was 16 and James kissed him senseless. He is 18 and his life is about to end. He is 18 and James is 19 and they feel much older. They’ve lived short lives. Regulus goes first, out of spite. James will follow shortly, though. They’ll meet again.

How I wish you would have killed me instead of the waves. What a sweet death would be to die by your side. I am sorry about this too.

[ttuesday]

Hi, I love ur headcanons and was wondering if you could do the boys from rdr2 at a Christmas fair? Like who would go on the rides, who’d eat all the food, etc.

I'll be real, I've never been to a Christmas Fair before so idk if these are completely accurate. Also since I don't have a great knowledge of this, I thought I'd make it easier for myself and do this in a Modern AU :) hope you don't mind anon <3

Arthur

Arthur spends his time exploring the different stalls, fascinated by how much there is to either buy, eat and win. Since there’s a wide variety of items, he thinks this is the perfect time to do some Christmas shopping for the gang.

He isn’t too sure what to buy you, wanting to put some extra thought and effort into your present. But then he saw it, the perfect gift. Although Arthur knows he should probably wait until Christmas to give it to you, he can’t help himself.

Noticing a Ferris wheel towards the back of the fair, Arthur asks if you’ll go on it with him. In case you’re wary of heights, he reassures you it’ll be fun and you can always grab on to him if you get scared. Once on the Ferris wheel and admiring the view below, Arthur passes you your gift, a beautiful journal much like his own.

Charles

Charles mainly came along to backup the gang in case anyone gets into a fight. He thinks this is inevitable to happen and that it’s only a matter of time before one of them commits a crime.

Within the first twenty minutes of being there, he’s already had to hold Karen back from pouring a cup of eggnog over someone. Charles is thankful Hosea came too, both of them keeping an eye on the gang.

Even though there’s lots to do at the fair and it’s full of excitement, Charles’ favourite part of the night is sitting next to you as you both watch the snow begin to fall.

Dutch

Dutch stands there and takes in the moment. Surprisingly no one has punched anyone (yet) and everyone seems to be having a great time.

Everything was going good until he spots some random guy dressed up as Santa Claus. Dutch is in awe, this buffoon is seriously getting paid for simply telling kids they’ve been good?! Pathetic… and Dutch wants to do it.

After ‘convincing’ the actor to give Dutch the Santa costume, Dutch spends the rest of his night taking money from parents and telling kids the government is bad and that they’re all getting a copy of “An American Inferno” for Christmas.

Micah

Micah genuinely has no idea why he decided to tag along or what the hell he’s supposed to do at a fair for fun. That is until he sees one of those big Christmas trees they bring out especially for the fair.

Micah’s not one for giving out Christmas presents but he thought he may as well seize the opportunity and get you something. Wandering over closer to the tree, he slyly slips one of the expensive ornaments into his pocket.

He thinks it looks fancy and hopes you might like it. As y’all leave the fair, Micah gives you the ornaments and brags about how he stole it. Much to his annoyance, you scold him for stealing at Christmas.

John

John’s not a big fan of the cold so he does his best to stay warm while at the fair, constantly walking around and rubbing his hands together.

After mumbling a few complaints about the cold, he decides to buy himself a hot chocolate to warm up. Just as he finally starts to completely warm, it starts to snow.

The second the snow falls, John doesn’t give a flying fuuuuuuck about how cold it is. He’s more concerned with hitting Arthur with a snowball now and it’s much more fun than any of the games at the fair. It escalates very fast until it’s basically a shootout with snowballs.

Javier

Javier is so goddamn excited to take you to a Christmas Fair. He's the one that heard about it and although the rest of the gang wanted to tag along, he tries his best to get some alone time with you.

Considering the vast majority of the gang have never ice skated before (including Javier), Javier thought that would be the perfect way to spend some time with you alone. You both hold on to each other for the first few minutes, trying to gain your balance and giggling at how wobbly y'all are on the ice.

It's great fun... until Javier falls. It takes him about five minutes trying to get back up, slipping every time he tries. Eventually you offer a hand and when you're trying to help him up, you accidentally fall too. As Javier looks over to see if you're alright, you both make eye contact and burst out laughing.

Bill

Bill wasn't too sure how he was going to spend his time at the fair. He isn't that hungry so it's pointless to go over by all the food venders, the rides can make him feel sick very easy and there's no way he's trying to ice skate.

But then he finds a stall that has that game where you have to knock down all the bottles to win a prize. He spots a big stuffed bear and surprisingly no, he doesn't want to win it for himself.

Bill thinks you might like it so he spends all of his time trying to win it. The game is totally rigged and even though Bill keeps trying, he can't seem to knock them all down... yes, he ends up stealing it for you anyways.

Sean

So. goddamn. excited. He's like a kid in a candy store, wanting to go see everything the fair has to offer all at once. He takes you by the hand and brings you with him, practically skipping through and in awe of everything.

Sean's favourite part is the variety of food, buying as much food as possible. He's having a great time, drinking eggnog, sucking on candy canes and nibbling on some Christmas pudding.

Sean has no problem singing to his heart's content whenever his favourite Christmas songs start playing, dancing around and trying his best to hit the high notes of each song.

Hosea

For the majority of his time at the fair, Hosea goes around apologizing to any venders or other patrons the gang has accidentally pissed off in their time there. He's the dad of the group, we all know it and if it was up to him, he'd have those leashes for toddlers on some of the gang.

When Hosea finally gets some time to relax, he wanders towards the games, seeing them as little challenges. He's great at all the fair games, especially the shooting ones.

He wins so many prizes, handing them out to the gang afterwards and giving you a snow globe with a little snowman inside. But Dutch gets a little jealous so be careful in case the snow globe 'goes missing'.

Kieran

Honestly Kieran's just happy to be there. The different lights decorating the fair, hearing people laugh, the delicious smell of food wafting through the air and the Christmas music gives him such a warm feeling inside.

He's happy to just walk around and watch everything, maybe getting a hot chocolate to really set the mood. Kieran's a little hesitant to go on any rides, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere by throwing up but he will go on some of the smaller rides if you go with him.

Kieran could walk around for hours, exploring all the different areas and absolutely adoring the scenery. Though if there's some kind of petting zoo or place with animals then he'll happily spend the rest of the night there, feeding reindeers some carrots.

[ray-ray-writings]

i don't really know how this thought came to me but consider a reader who's a pillager hybrid of their whole family are pillagers but the reader doesn't really... agree with their lifestyle so they run away and move to the Dream SMP and no one knows they're pillager origins until their family comes looking for them?? also i've been binging ur stuff, i love ur blog, this is my first time asking :)

I really really love this idea, I’m such a sucker for things like this hahahaha.

But yeah. So you’re born and raised in a Pillager tower, your mother was a human that your father fell in love with once he saw her being cruel to villagers. Growing up you were always taken on the raids when your parents would go on and you would watch as Villagers were slaughtered left and right with no mercy. It always made you feel sick to your stomach while many others were having the time of their lives. When the raid was over and won, you would go back to the tower and people would marvel in their victories, and you would pretend you were also excited, but those nights were always plagued with nightmares of the villagers’ screams and fire that destroyed the towns. As you grew up, you were able to make your own decisions. So you went on less raids, still going on some to please your parents, but the guilt grew more and more with each town destroyed. So when you finally turned 18, you decided to leave for good. You packed up everything that you could carry in your inventory and wrote a small note to your parents explaining that you had to leave, you couldn’t raid and pillage any longer. You left the note on your mother’s nightstand, pressing a small kiss to both of their foreheads before leaving the only place you’ve ever called home. 

You wander for the whole night, the mobs leaving you alone (after all, like kind recognizes like) and then for half the day once the sun comes up before you stumble into the SMP. From far off in the distance you can see multiple beacons of light coming from inside a really really big stone building. So like a moth, you’re drawn to the light and wander inside this castle. You stumble onto a wooden plank path that seems to go everywhere are the new town you have found. As you’re walking through the castle just looking around, you aren’t paying attention and you stumble, literally stumble, into someone. You catch yourself before you fall and you look to who you just ran into. You see a man with a green hoodie, a white smiley face mask with blonde tufts of hair poking out of the top. “Woah there… Who are you, I’ve never seen you before” he questions, his tone kind of harsh. You don’t blame him though, a complete stranger wandering into this new place uninvited, you’re honestly surprised you didn’t get an axe to the head. “Hi. Sorry, I’m Y/N. I’ve just… I’ve just left home and I saw this place. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave now!” You rush out, attempting to turn around and run out of the castle, but a hand catches your wrist. “Hey wait a minute,” he commands softly, turning you back around. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I was just surprised… You said you just left home?” You give the man a shy nod, “Yeah, my people were… doing some things I didn’t approve of and so I left as soon as I was able to… I can leave now if you want” The man doesn’t let go of your wrist, “You said you just left home?” You nod in confirmation, “Well, if you want, you could live here. Well not here in the castle, but here in the SMP. I’m Dream and this is my SMP. There are a lot of people here that are actually very nice. You can build your house in the SMP and live here. But if you want to keep wandering, that’s okay too” the man called Dream offers. You think about it for a moment, “Do you think you could show me around before I make my decision?” Dream gives you a quick nod before letting go of your wrist, “Of course. Do you want to go now?” “Sure!” So Dream shows you around the SMP and introduces you to a few new people who all give you waves and friendly smiles and welcome you to the new land. All throughout the tour, Dream subtly asks you about where you're from, but you brush off his questions and for once in his life he doesn’t push it. “So what do you think? You want to stay here?” You give a quick look around and think about everyone you met, “Yeah, I would thank you!” 

And so you stay. You build your house, something with light wood that doesn’t resemble a tower at all. You also make friends with everyone else on the SMP. Somehow you reveal that you’re really good at combat with an axe and a crossbow, probably while sparring with someone, maybe Tommy because we all know he would definitely challenge a new person to duel him and then call you a coward so you would duel him and win and claim you cheated, but it makes everyone stare at you in wonder for a little bit and become just a little more afraid of you. You never tell anyone where you’re from or that you’re part pillager and that your family is made up of pillagers. You don’t think it’s important. That’s in your past and the SMP is your family now so now your family is made up of even more hybrids and more diverse people. Your past remains in your past… Until it comes knocking at your front door… 

You wake one morning to a pounding on your front door. You of course are very confused because you weren’t expecting anyone. But you get out of bed and answer the door and you find  a panicked Tommy and Tubbo standing there. “Boys, what can I-” “There are a bunch of pillagers here. They’re asking about you. They’re threatening to burn everything down if we don’t bring you.” Tubbo rambles. “We won’t let them take you and we were told to keep you here, but we just thought we should let you know.” Tommy chimes in. Your blood runs cold. Why? Why is this happening? You don’t answer the boys and you ignore their ‘keep you here bs’ before you reach over and grab your axe and crossbow and run out of the house. Tubbo and Tommy yell after you, share a look before, and run after you. You run up and find a few people, Dream, Techno, Wilbur, Philza, Sapnap, Punz, (Ya know, the best fighters… foreshadowing lol) and standing opposite of them your parents with a few other pillagers behind them. The sound of your footsteps caused all heads to snap to you. Everyone from the SMP seemed shocked to see you and stared past you and glared at the two boys. “You were supposed to keep them home” Dream hisses to the children. “They took off before we could stop them” Tubbo pants, trying to catch his breath. “Y/N go home” Techno demands, but you don’t listen. All of your attention is focused on those you used to call your family. “What are you doing?” You ask exasperated. Your father smirks at you, “Oh my dear child we’re here to bring you home of course.” And you can feel all eyes snap to you. A wave of disappointment flooded you, they all knew now. “They know” you’d think to yourself, “They know what a horrible person you are and what terrible past you come from.” You take a deep breath before speaking again, “I’m not coming home. This is my home now. Go away, leave us alone.” Laughter bubbles from the group in front of you, “Oh silly silly child. You are not home, home is back at the tower. Come now.” Your mother says, beckoning you forward. “No. I’m not going.” The smirks and smiles turn into angry stares, “No? Oh, I see how it is” your mother speaks up. “Too bad you are coming with us.” Your father barks before lunging forward for you and attempts to grab you. Before you can even react, you’re being pulled back and you’re now being protected. The two most powerful people on the server, Dream and Techno, have formed a wall in front of you with their weapons pointed at the pillagars. “Now,” Techno begins, his monotone voice two octaves deeper and threatening, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Your father lunges forward once more, throwing his fist out, trying to punch Techno in the face. Techno simply caught your father’s wrist and smirked, “Alright, hard way it is” 

A full on brawl begins. 

Techno quickly takes your father while Dream takes your mother. Everyone else charges and begins fighting the rest of them. Fists are flying before arrows join the ranks in that as well. You begin fighting someone you barely recognize. Your whole energy and focus is on winning because you know if you lose it’s back to raiding and pillaging villages and you really don’t want to. You manage to down the person you’re fighting and you turn and see that all the other pillagers are either also downed or being fought by one of your friends. Your eyes catch Techno and Dream who were still fighting your father and mother respectively. You’re just about to approach when Techno gets your father in a chokehold and manages to completely debilitate him. “Call them off” Techno demands. Your father doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers desperately clawing at the arm around his throat. Techno squeezes tighter, “Did I hesitate? I said call them off” Finally your father comes to his senses, “Retreat!” He gasps out. Immediately all of the pillagers stop their fight and run back to where they were first gathered up. Techno lets go of your father and gives him a hard shove in the direction. Your father moves to stand next to your mother and all eyes fall on you again. “Leave. And never come back, or I won’t hesitate to let them kill you” your speak, your voice stone cold. You can tell your mother wants to protest, but your father catches her wrist and shakes his head no. Without another word, your father turns around and walks through the crowd and toward the direction of their tower. Confused and a little irritated all other pillagers turn too and follow your father back to where they came from. 

You and the rest stand there and watch them retreat until they are out of sight. And once again all eyes fall on you. You can’t help but look to the ground as tears form in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they would come for me… I understand if you want me to leave forever… Now that you know what I truly am… A monster” you spit out the words as if their poison. It is quiet for a moment and you figure that they’re all silently agreeing. You’re about to speak again when a pair of arms wrap tightly around you, and then another, and another, and another, until you’re pretty sure everyone there, even Techno, is in the group hug. The tears that had welled up in your eyes were now freely falling down your cheeks. “Y/N,” Dream begins, “We never want you to leave. Why would you think that?” A pathetic sob escapes your lips, “Because I’m part pillager because I raided and destroyed villages. I’m a monster, Dream. I don’t deserve you guys.” Everyone seems about to jump in, but through blurry eyes you see Philza give them all a look. All of the arms let you go, except for one pair that holds you even tighter, “Y/N, you’re not a monster. What you did today and what you have done in the past proves it. Today you refused to go with them, you ran away from them, you didn’t want to be a part of their lifestyle. You’re not a monster hun, you never were and you never will be” Philza comforts. His words hit your heart. You’re not a monster, no one thinks you’re a monster. More sobs escape your lips, this time they’re sobs of relief. They don’t want you to leave. You’re safe here. Philza lets you cry in his arms, he holds you for as long as you need. After a few moments you compose yourself and slowly pull out of the blonde man’s arms. “Sorry about that” you apologize, clearing your throat. “Didn’t mean to lose my cool there” Everyone around you laughs. “It’s okay Y/N. You’ve just had a big emotional thing happen, and you were pulled right of bed to experience it. It’s okay that you’re a little emotional.” Wilbur comforts, taking a step forward and resting a warm hand on your back. You completely pull away from Phil and give the tall boy a quick hug. “Hey are we doing individual hugs, because I want a hug too!” Sapnap chimes, marching forward and flinging his arms open. You can’t help but giggle and pull away from Wilbur, “We can do individual hugs if you want too” You claim, falling into his open arms. He lets out a triumphant lap and swings you around in joy. “Alright hog, let them go we want hugs too” Sapnap, still holding on to you, looks over his shoulder before picking you up and running away with you. “Hey selfish! Get back here!” And soon everyone is chasing you and Sapnap around demanding hugs. This wasn’t how you planned to tell everyone about your past, you’re not sure if you ever were going to, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

[pascalpanic]

hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

-

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

-

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

-

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan.  He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

-

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

-

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[toots-senpai]

bonfire tower

Author: @toots-senpai Fandom: creepypasta Pairing: jeff the killer x reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: gore mentions, yandere! jeff, noncon kissing, fear? Quick A/n: emptying out the drafts, that’s all. stay hydrated.

The small picnic didn’t mean to get this bad. You being separated from your friends and the smell of smoke traveling deep into your lungs, Jeff’s laughing echoing deep into your already hazy brain. You were running as fast as you could, even though you could actually see the fire traveling fast right behind your running feet. The fire was spreading fast with the wind blowing harshly but you couldn’t stop, you didn’t even have the time to turn around. A large fire blazing tree crackling above you, daring to snap into two and fall right on top of you. 

‘just a little faster. move!’ You thought as it snapped, hurdling on top of you just as the forest dared. Not only was the vast amount of wood begging to grab you in the confines of the blazing hell behind you. Jeff on the other hand was not phased, hand touching the blazing tree and hopping over it, hot on your tail. You couldn’t catch your breath, legs not even bothering to stop as you pushed your lungs to their limit, the road right in front of you, for the second you were focusing on that, you fucked up. Bad. Stumbling over your own feet and tripping onto the road, face first. Skin scraping against the broken gravel of the road, skin tearing open and rocks sticking to the open wound.

Jeff just laughed from behind you catching up but the adrenaline inside your body had you getting up and running before he had the chance to get close. You went bolting down the road, not even bothering to go back into the blazing forest. You could feel your lungs strain as you ran. The fire from the forest already affecting your lungs, especially with the blood from your cheek slipping into your breathing mouth. You were scared shitless, the air dry and makes your breathing raspy. You kept running a large factory appeared into your vision. The brick building and broken factory windows made you slightly at ease, a way to relax, to hide possibly. When you saw the small side door to the side you pushed a bit harder running to open the door and then almost slamming it in Jeff’s face. Only a second too fast. He banged at the door angrily, pulling at the door that you had a tight grip on by the handle, even using your feet against the frame to keep the door closed before angrily shuffling away from the door moving to find another entrance, raging underneath his breath. You looked around you, taking in the factories surroundings looking for the other entrance. The fire outside lighting up the abandoned factory as you looked about. You heard the factory door on the other side open quite harshly, smoke all ready entering the building as he trudged in, pissed, laughing. 

“Come on! You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be dollface. You should’ve just keep that pretty little face on the fucking concrete!” He laughed as he started to smash things in the factory, pushing them out of his way making his way to where you came in. You needed to make your way out now. The abandoned factory was.. indeed abandoned. There was no where to hide and Jeff was just getting closer and closer. There were a couple of ways out but the only option you had right now as Jeff rounded the corner, was to jump out the window nearby broken glass window. Thank god the factory wasn’t more than 3 floors and you were on the bottom floor. You shuffled quietly, ducked behind some pipes as he continued to shove the pipes right next to you, walking just behind your frame

“Come on out darlin’, i’ll even fix that fucked up face of yours!” He mocked as you snuck your way around him, trying to be quiet, stepping out behind him from the pipes as he continued to push whatever was next to him or in his way. You would’ve been in the clear if the one flood gate under your foot was clicked in properly, but as the world works, it wasn’t and the cloud click of the metal sliding into place had Jeff laughing and his bloodshot eyes snapped onto your stuck form. You made a beeline for the window jumping over the broken pipes before balling yourself through the window, rolling into the grass and pushing the glass deeper into your skin

 With the glass now embedded in your arms and legs, it 100% made the situation worse. That was a bad idea. The fire roared and you were cornered. Jeff laughing in front of you as he pulled his knife out, and now your only option was to run to the guard tower... through the blazing fire. You had no choice, didn’t even wince as you pushed yourself into the heat, Jeff unaffected but annoyed as he caught right back up to you. Going through that window was a bad idea, but as soon as you made it close to the stairs his knife flew past your ear right in front of you, hitting the wood base of the watchtower. You didn’t know where to go but up as the flame grew ablaze around the watchtower, but as of right now, there was no where to go but away from Jeff, it was ur top priority, you had to at least try. This was all you wanted. A peaceful life, friends, you never wanted this again, you were gonna do everything in your power to never get back into that dreadful situation. You moved up faster with that thought in mind even as another came flying at you. 

“Stop fucking moving!” He yelled as he grabbed one of the blades he threw running up the stairs after you. You tumbled up the stairs, Blood dripping onto the burning wood. Jeff missed one last time accidentally tossing his knife off of the stairs of the watchtower onto the burning forest floor and being distracted by his failure you got up to the top, going to try to close the door only for it to have no lock, the door old along with the tower, which seemed to not have been built properly either, wood rotting. A couple of tears fell down your cheeks as you reminisced for a second, the small tower filling with smoked as it probably started to burn from the bottom, your glass imbedded fingers loosely gripped onto the broken door as Jeff laughed outside of it. A wrecked sob the last thing to fall out of your mouth as he slammed the door in, the door hitting your nose and knocking you back a couple of steps until you fell on your back. The air knocking out of your lungs, vision spinning for a second. The only thing you could receive properly was Jeff’s laughing, gasps of breath as he pulled himself together, mocking you more. 

“This!? This is what you wanted?” He mocked again laughing and holding his stomach. “You wanted.. to DIE with me here Y/n..?” He couldn’t contain himself, seeing how wrecked you were while he was only a bit air deprived. You had glass sticking out of your skin, blood drooping out of your nose and rolling off of your cheek to the hot wood floor. He chuckled for a couple seconds more before collecting himself, and straddling your waist, putting your foreheads together and breathing against you, wiping at your tears as small wrecked sobs came from you. The obsessed man laughed above you once more, in victory it seemed grabbing your cheeks one last time as the tower creaked and crackled in the small watch tower, smoke filled and catching ablaze from the inside. He placed a long kiss to your blood wrecked lips. “Baby, that’s all you had to tell me.” He cooed before chuckling again. “You should’ve just told me, you wanted to die with me, I would’ve made this much less painful...you should’ve trusted me..” He muttered against your lips once more, wiping away the tears as your sobs became a bit louder as he kissed and licked at your bloody gravel filled cheek. The tower began to lean, crackling with means of falling as the support beams below burned into the wood floor, almost like being on top of a large bonfire. This, is not how you wanted your picnic to end, your friends have probably burnt to a crisp, the fire roaring all around you, the last melody of the burning forest, but for one last time, Jeff and your eyes locked when he grabbed your jaw and made you face him. “But it’s alright dollface..” He trailed off smiling while pulling his lip full of your blood to his tongue, swallowing all the blood that smeared onto his lips with a smile before continuing, “I would die.. every type of way and any type of way... if it’s with you.” A smile, genuine Jeffery Woods smile and the support beneath you snapped, the fire blurring your before you even had the chance to black out.