#and when he blames me for not drinking water when *I can’t stand long enough to grab a glass* he just makes things worse

[nope-body]

.

[semperama]

Maxiel, 2 👀

things you said through your teeth

When the hoofbeats and shouts have faded into the distance, Max shuffles across the dirty straw-covered floor, and says, “Let me take a look.”

Daniel shifts, gritting his teeth, and starts tugging at the buttons of his shirt with one hand. His sleeve is soaked in blood, but it could be worse. If the bullet had nicked an artery, he’d be dead right now. If it’d got him a few inches to the left, he’d have been dead some long minutes ago.

“Stop that,” Max says, batting Daniel’s hand away so he can work on the buttons himself. He eases Daniel’s arm out of the sleeve, his face so pale you’d think he was the one who got shot. In fact—

“You didn’t get hit, did you?” Daniel asks, his eyes scanning what little of Max he can see in the dim light. The look Max gives him is pure venom, but it’s alright; at least it brings some color back to his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” Max says. “Your horse is too slow.”

“Mhm.” It’s better not to argue. Daniel has yet to meet a horse that can outrun a bullet, but if it comforts Max to blame the mount rather than bad fucking luck, so be it.

Max’s fingers are gentle on Daniel’s arm, curling around his elbow and lifting it a little so he can examine it from all sides. “The bullet didn’t go through,” he says. “I’ll have to get it out.”

Daniel blows a slow stream of air out from between his teeth. He’d love to get drunk first, but there’s no time. The deputies will circle back eventually. He and Max have to make their way up into the hills tonight, or they’ll be strung up by morning.

“Go on then,” Daniel says through his teeth, closing his eyes and letting his head rest against the wood behind him. He tries to concentrate on the sound of cows stamping and snorting in the other stalls. Someone will be in to feed them or milk them eventually. And their horses are tied up in a stand of trees not too far away. They aren’t safe here. Are they safe anywhere?

“Fuck,” Max hisses. He stops digging around in Daniel’s arm and reaches for his discarded coat, fishes out his canteen and then pours a stream of precious water over his skin to wash away the blood. “I can’t see shit.”

“Take your time,” Daniel says. He means for it to be a joke, but it comes out gentle. He’s far too soft about Max these days. Not long ago, he resented the kid, Horner’s new favorite. He thought about riding off on his own so many times. Now, when he imagines leaving, Max is by his side.

By the time Daniel hears the bullet fall into the straw, he’s covered in cold sweat and his head is swimming. Max washes him with more water and then makes him drink the rest. He cuts strips of Daniel’s ruined shirt and wraps the wound up tight. His hands are shaking; Daniel would take them into his own and hold them tight, if he had the strength.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Max says. “Do you think you’ll be able to ride?”

Daniel isn’t sure, but he nods anyway. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

“Here,” Max says, taking him by the shoulder and easing him upright so he can get him into his coat. It helps—that warmth. Helps even more when Max leans against the wall next to him, his arm pressed against Daniel’s healthy one. Daniel thinks about Horner back at the hideout counting his money while they’re huddled together in this barn, and suddenly none of this makes sense. He’s not sure it ever did.

“Where’ll we go?” Daniel asks, his voice barely a whisper. Max can pretend not to hear it, if he wants to. It seems like he does pretend not to hear it, the silence stretching on and on until finally—

“Where do you want to go?”

Daniel has to bite down against the urge to sigh with relief. “Sometimes I think about California,” he says. “We could rustle up some cattle, drive them out that way. Sell them. Use the money to get a fresh start.”

If they keep going the way they’re going, one of them is going to watch the other die. No matter how Horner promises that this will be the job that gets them enough money to quit this life, Daniel knows by now it’ll never happen. No amount of money is enough.

“Just you and me?” Max asks, like he doesn’t quite believe it.

Daniel might as well risk it all; he has nothing to lose. He reaches over and catches Max’s hand in his, squeezes as tight as he can. “Just you and me.”

Max blows out a breath. He squeezes Daniel’s hand back, two quick pulses, like a heartbeat. “We can talk about it, after you rest.”

It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either. It’s more hope than Daniel has had in a long time. He clings to it, like he clings to Max's hand.

[shabre-legacy]

Returning Home Chapter Five

Up Against the World, Up against the Wall

Song: Any other way by All good things

It doesn’t take long for them to get to Carrick Station, and even less time to be in line for boarding a ship from the station to Coruscant. All travel costs on the Republic Army of course. There’s always a priority on moving soldiers around the galaxy, After all, the tensions with the Sith Empire were still high and based on what she had uncovered, they were actively, but quietly pushing into Republic space. Military and Jedi ships had priority on every Republic station and most of the private ones too. Even then, it takes enough time to make their way down to grab a drink and food that isn’t rations from the cantina before boarding. 

The serving droid rolls away with their orders, leaving the two in awkward silence. They hadn’t had a chance to talk much since leaving Ord Mantell. Nyaisa had been well enough to travel, but without enough energy for additional conversation, so beyond being blamed for her squad’s actions ruining Jorgan’s career and a few check-ins, there wasn’t much said. 

After a minute or two of the silence, Jorgan speaks first. “So.. Havoc Squad. Best of the best. Can’t say that I’m happy about the demotion, but it’s an honor to be here sir.”

Sir? That was going to take some getting used to, coming from the tall Cathar. He’d loomed over her when they’d met, with him challenging her experience and skill and her trying to stand up to him without breaking protocol. 

She leans forward a bit. “How are you holding up?”

“You mean after watching Tavus flush my career down the fresher? What do you think?” There’s a dark growl at the end of his sentence, a promise of violence towards someone. “Four years at the academy. Seven years in the field, decorations, commendations. Would have made captain soon if command hadn’t hung me out to dry.”

Years of work, destroyed in a matter of hours. If he was telling the truth that is. For all she knew he could be a skilled liar and working with Tavus and only pretending to be this angry. But that, that seemed unlikely. Emotions typically ran hot with Cathar in her experience and this kind of anger felt genuine. “You and I both know Tavus’s defection wasn’t your fault.”

Jorgan just growled slightly at his tray. “Tell that to the brass when they need a scapegoat. But hey, water under the bridge. Command put me in Havoc to help you find Tavus and I intend to do just that.” His voice held less of the venom now. He wasn’t warm, but controlled, strong, determined. “I’ve hunted imperials from one side of the galaxy to the next. Used to command the Deadeyes, finest sniper squad in the Republic.” The note of pride in his voice makes her smile just a little. 

“I look forward to seeing what you can do, Jorgan.”

“You won’t be disappointed.”

“Good.” She’s quiet a moment herself. “Hunting imps is something I’m pretty damn good at myself. Been doing it for years. So we shouldn’t have much trouble with this once we get the go orders and a direction to search.”

The droid arrives then, interrupting their conversation. After taking their food, they both dive in. Too concerned with the prospect of tasting real food to bother with talking. Too soon for her taste, it’s time to line up for boarding, always a long process in an environment like this one. 

It takes some time getting out once they board and longer than she’d like to get checked in on the ship’s roster and get her bunk assignment. However, finally, she and Jorgan are released to go to their bunks as the Jedi the ship is transporting start to board. She’ll pay attention to that later after she’s slept. She’s still not fully recovered from her injuries and it’s taking a toll. 

The small bunkbed in the tiny room she had to share with the angry, grumpy Cathar, somehow managed to look good after all the travel and the painful realization that her squad’s betrayal was real and not part of some horrible hallucination. She quickly stows her gear and practically rips off her armor, though she takes care to stack it carefully, ready to be cleaned and cared for as soon as she woke up. Clad now in only her tight black undersuit, she collapses onto the bed, not bothering to think of Jorgan in that moment, only considering how tired she was. She was aware of him doing the same, settling in for the multi-day trip. 

She lies in the bunk for a while, she quickly loses track of time, but as exhausted as she is, sleep will not come. She keeps replaying that moment in her mind, the moment she’d burst into the hanger, shooting down the imperials, ready to die trying to rescue any of her squad, only to find their blasters turned on her, the moment that her CO had given imperials the order to kill her. Shooting at the ship and catching Fuse’s gaze, his eyes filled with just a hint of regret, perhaps for leaving her to die. 

She’d survived, against everything the imps and separatists threw at her, she survived and took most of them down. But the betrayal cut deep. Even the promotion didn’t dull that sting. She waits quietly in the bunk, occasionally swallowing hard against the lump in her throat until finally Jorgan leaves. She doesn’t say anything, just pretends to be asleep until the door closed behind him and she breaks down. She sobs quietly into her pillow, pouring out all the pain from her injuries, the exhaustion, the betrayal, and the renewed feelings of loss she felt from the strange idea she’d had upon waking after the kolto tank that her little sister, dead for years, had somehow saved her. It woke the emotions she’d thought long buried. She hadn’t cried for her sisters for years, since before she’d found her brother. The day she’d decided to leave the academy she attended on Mirial and join the effort to liberate her planet, that had been the last time she’d cried for her siblings. She’d only cried for her cousins one night and even now, the tears weren’t for them. They weren’t. She was stronger than that grief.

She only cries a few minutes, her already quiet sobs, muffled to almost silence by the pillow, her shaking shoulders the only sign a regular human would notice. So by the time she hears Jorgan enter only a few minutes after leaving, she’s already brushing away the tears. That’s enough sulking. She has to move on. She can’t break down, not now. There’s work to be done. 

She takes a breath, stretching out the cramped muscles as she heard the click of the datapad they’d been given with the ship’s schedule being placed back on the footlocker and the quiet room slowly fills with only the sounds of her breath and Jorgan’s above her as they lie in silence. It only takes a few more minutes before his steady breathing, so different then the humans she’d become used to bunking with, lulled her into a restless sleep. 

It’s several hours later when she finally wakes. The room is empty once again and she glances hurriedly around, her hand reaching for her blaster before she freezes and forces herself to exhale. She’s on a Republic Military ship. The traitors who turned on her weren’t here. She is safe. Or is she? Had the Republic known? Sure, the officers she’d spoken to acted like they didn’t, but what if they really had? What if they had just decided to write her off as easily expendable? What if it was all just some kind of test? Commander Tavus… of all people… going imp? It sounds impossible just thinking about it. And what about Jorgan? Was he really put in Havoc for the reasons she was told? Was he just there to spy on her? Or had he been working with Tavus and just waiting for the right time to betray her as well? Which soldier on this ship was going to try treason next?  

She pulls herself out of bed and stretches, grabbing the datapad and checking the time. Just enough time to hit the sonic before heading to the mess. It wasn’t like anything would get solved or figured out by lying in a bunk. She makes sure to guard her back as she grabs a clean uniform from her bag and stuffs her blaster into her belt and tucking a blade into one of her hiding spots. The holdout blaster went into the armful of clothing. She wasn’t supposed to have the second blaster or the blade. They were supposed to be in the armory with her other weapons. But she was not leaving herself that vulnerable. She wouldn’t be caught unaware next time. 

She’s careful to stay aware of everyone around her as she makes her way to the fresher and grabs one of the few free sonics. It’s a relief to step into the jets, laying her blade on the shelf where soaps would go if they were on a planet and water showers were allowed. As it was just the sonic was enough to push off most of the dust and leave her feeling a bit better. It wasn’t perfect. She would love a long, hot shower right now, but it would have to do. 

Mostly clean, she redresses, taking care to tuck the blade and holdout blaster were out of sight and easy to access. The weight at her belt and the cool durasteel blade tucked by her back is comforting and helps her breath easier as she makes her way out of the fresher, drops her things at her bunk and heads to the mess. 

The room is too big and too loud and too full. She hates it as soon as she approaches. A deep breath, forcibly steadying her hands and she walks in with her head high. She’s a lieutenant now. She doesn’t have an option to show any sign of what had happened. She was handling it fine after all. She glances over her shoulder ever few seconds as she makes her way through the line and collects her rations and heads back to the seating area. Lucky for her, she spots Jorgan already sitting at a table towards the back. She makes her way down and clicks her tray down on the same side as Jorgan, with her back to the wall while Jorgan was closer to the aisle. “Get some rest?” 

Jorgan grunts in response, scowling down at his tray and the bland excuse for food. “Some. Bet those passenger ships we saw taking off had nerfburgers and ronto roasts.” Nyaisa shrugs and turns to her own food. “You’re in the military. We don’t get those fancy civilian meals during transport.” She pokes at the food before forcing herself to eat. She can’t lose her strength or the next attack would be her last. After a few minutes of them both eating, she hears Jorgan talk. “There’s a bunch of Jedi on board. At least four that I’ve seen, heard there’s more.” 

Nyaisa glances over before returning her eyes to the room. “That’s interesting, there must be something going on for them. Know who they are?”

“No. Rumor is that they’re guarding some other Jedi who’s being kept out of sight.”

Nyaisa hums. “Interesting behavior for a Jedi. Might have to go check them out. See who’s there.” 

“Know a Jedi or Something?”

“My older brother Tyrenic is in training to be a Jedi. Last time I heard from him he was heading off somewhere to take a test to become a full Jedi.”

‘Brother’s a Jedi. Of course your brother is a Jedi.” She barely hears Jorgan mutter under his breath. There’s not the same hostility she expected to hear. Though it’s so close to being out of her hearing that she can’t be sure. She’d sure be a lot angry at herself if she were in Jorgan’s shoes. The fact that they can have conversations is good, at least for now while they’re stuck together. 

She continues to poke at her food, nearly finishing when she hears the room go quiet. Two Jedi enter the mess, their robes standing out among the uniforms and armor around them. The lightsabers at their belts draw as much attention to them as the robes as they make their way to the line and after a brief discussion, receive two portions each. As they turn with their food, Nyaisa is able to get a good look at them. The first, a small cathar female, her fur a softer orange then Jorgan’s and a good deal more white and black markings around her face and the other Jedi A tall, Mirialan man. 

The Mirialan Jedi looks across the room straight at her and smiles, Nyaisa grins, her smile tempered with relief as she watches Tyrenic tilt his head in invitation as he and the other Jedi walk out of the room. Nyaisa stands and grabs her tray, she clamps Jorgan on the shoulder as she passes. “See you later.” She disposes of the tray and hurries out, ignoring, as much as she safely can, Jorgan’s intense stare as she walks away. 

Hurrying into the hall, she manages to catch up to the two Jedi. Tyrenic nods as she falls into step. “Nyaisa, it’s good to see you’re still alive.” His eyes cut over her quickly as he can while walking. “You’ve been hurt?”

She nods. “Almost died. Whole thing’s classified and what isn’t is just weird or sad.”

Tyrenic nods at that. “Ah, introductions. Nyaisa, this is Jedi Knight Annilai Jhasis, Annilai, this is my sister Sergeant Nyaisa Shabre.” 

“Lieutenant.” 

“Got a promotion then that you haven’t told me about?” 

Nyaisa chuckles for the first time since everything at the amusement in his voice. “Yes, it’s part of that story. She leans past him slightly. “Good to meet you Master Jedi. A question if you don’t mind.” 

She might be more casual around her brother then others might be around Jedi, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t still more than a little scared of them and as polite as any other soldier. 

Annalai nods “Of course, though I may not know the answer.”

“Any relation to Ikhirr Jhasis?”

The jedi hums in thought. “Perhaps. My parents are, as far as I know, still alive. It’s likely that they had other children after I went to the temple, however I have chosen not to seek them out and focus on the Order instead, so I truly don’t know.”

“Oh, well just thought I’d ask, he’s an old academy friend.” Nyaisa looks over at Tyrenic. “So how’d that test or whatever you had to do go?”

“My trials? Well, circumstances meant that I never actually got to complete the formal trials, but the council deemed the situation suitable for substitution and knighted me anyways” 

“Congratulations. That’s a big achievement. I assume that means you are here on a Jedi mission.” 

Tyrenic nods. “We both are. Myself and Annilai have been summoned to Coruscant by masters there and are assisting in the escort of two Jedi who are traveling in seclusion. What about you?”

“Seclusion?” She hadn’t heard of Jedi traveling like that before. She’s able to move on, reminding herself that her brother was a Jedi first and would keep their secrets. “Transport to Coruscant for new orders following my promotion.”

Tyrenic nods. “Yes, it’s not common, but it happens from time to time. If there’s time while we’re both on Coruscant, we should meet up and talk. I’d love to do so now, but I have my duties.” 

Nyaisa nods at that. “I understand that. I’ll message you once I know what I’m doing while on Coruscant and we’ll see what can be arranged. It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well Nyaisa. It’s good to know you’re still around,”

She smiles and lifts a hand in farewell as she walks away from the Jedi and back towards their bunk. As Tyrenic disappears from sight, she feels that creeping sense that someone is watching her return, glancing around, she confirms that those who are around are all involved in their own business. But it’s still enough to have her walking faster and keeping her hand a bit closer to her blaster. 

The rest of the trip passed slowly, there wasn’t much for her to do so she gave herself a routine. A cycle of meals, training and sitting on her bunk when she got tired of watching her back all the time. 

It was halfway through the first full day when she gets tired of being afraid. There’s only one way to find out if Jorgan is going to stab her in the back too. And that’s to make him reveal himself and that would only happen with time and until then, she needed to at least act like nothing was wrong and that meant being the squad CO. If he isn’t and she can’t be a good leader, then they could end up dead anyways. So she schedules training sessions daily with Jorgan. It’s tough, the chemistry between them when they spar, like finding the perfect dance partner is still there. But the banter of before isn’t, and she can’t bring herself to relax enough around him to fall into the same ease that they’d had on Ord Mantell. There’s still some tension between them. What with the circumstances and rank changes and the fact that she doesn’t know if she can trust him not to betray her and he doesn’t yet know if he can trust her to lead. He’s still respectful and follows her lead, but she doesn’t put too much pressure on them, letting them mostly do their own thing when they’re on their own. 

It does bring her some relief though, testing her muscles and helping her build up her strength again after her injuries and helps her to sleep a little easier at night. By the time their three day journey to Coruscant was over, she was feeling much stronger and physically, almost back to her old self. She still sat with her back to the wall in the mess and carried a blade into the sonic. She still wondered every night who knew that Tavus would defect and who let it happen and what had broken so much in that squad that they would betray a squad member. She couldn’t comprehend doing so herself, unless they turned traitor. Her questions were interrupting her sleep. She busied herself studying everything she could about the previous members of Havoc. Her rank and command gave her a higher security level and she was able to get a lot more information about them then she would have before, but not enough. She would need to ask General Garza for the full records when she got to Coruscant. The information would help her know how to approach things. She also spent some time skimming Jorgan’s record. Not so much for details, just to get a better idea of what his skillset was. She missed the days on Mirial where by the time she knew about someone, she already had a neat little list of what they could and couldn’t do. The slower days even gave her enough time to send a few messages to friends and to Nordan. Her partner of the last two years, it would be good to see him if she could. 

Judging by the glow above her, Jorgan spent time doing his own research. He’d shown her a few prototype blaster models he’d been reading about one morning and that had led to a lively discussion of weapon preferences. 

The arrival at Coruscant was announced a few minutes before they dropped out of hyperspace. As soon as the announcement was made, the ship fell into a flurry of activity. Those assigned to the ship rushed about completing their jobs for arrival and everyone else making sure they were ready to disembark. It wasn’t like either Nyaisa or Jorgan had much to gather up, so she took her time cleaning up after afternoon training and met Jorgan at the entrance to the training area. Together they walked back to their bunk and started gathering their things. There wasn’t a lot of talk between them. This was it. Once they touched down, they’d head straight to spec ops headquarters and start tracking down the traitors. They both were focused and mentally preparing for whatever they were going to face. 

Once they had their things, they joined the other soldiers in line to disembark, early enough to be up at the front of the line. It took a good two hours to get close to the planet and get permission to dock. Eventually though, the doors opened and the ramp lowered, revealing a medical team waiting. She hadn’t heard of anyone hurt on the ship, but she and everyone else was being held back. Just as she started to wonder what was going on, she saw four Jedi carrying a stretcher towards the ramp. Tyrenic and Annilai were at the front. At the rear was a rather pretty togruta woman and a very large Mirialan man with a red tint to his skin, and spurs above his eyes and on his cheeks. On the stretcher was an older human woman. Her robes and the Jedi around her suggested this was one of the Jedi masters. Tyrenic and the other three carried the stretcher off the ship where the medical team took over, rushing her away as the Jedi formed what appeared to be a protective barrier around them. 

As the Jedi rushed off, the rest were allowed off. “What was that all about?” She mutters under her breath. She sees the side-eye from Jorgan. “What? My brother doesn’t tell me everything!” She shifts her bag and picks up her pace, stomping ahead into the spaceport and over to the stations where they checked in. The machines had a large window nearby looking out over the city. It looked better than it had last time she was here. They both take a moment to stare at the cityscape. 

“Wow, spend enough time on a backwater like Ord Mantell, you almost forget what a civilized planet’s supposed to look like. I did my officer training here. Back before I was deployed to Ord Mantell.”

Nyaisa glances over at him and hums slightly in acknowledgment listening as he continues. 

“There was still a fair bit of reconstruction going on then. Rebuilding things the imperials destroyed. I still can’t believe the empire managed to sack Coruscant back in the war. The Capital of the entire Republic and they raided it like some outerrim mudball.” 

“You’d think our capital would be better defended.”

Jorgan nods in agreement. “The Republic committed it’s forces to engaging the empire on outlying worlds. Defending Coruscant was an afterthought. Anyways, we should get moving- don’t want to keep anyone important waiting.” 

She nods. “There’s probably going to be a bunch more people demanding answers we don’t have. That will be a fun mess to try and navigate.” She hrrmphs and turns. “Alright let’s go report Jorgan.”

He nods and falls in when she walks away from the window and all the memories attached to the disaster that was the war.  There was a lot they had to do and there wasn’t any more time to delay. 

[justafrogandherumbrella]

Welcome to Nowhere: Disrespect the Dead

The sky is clear of any clouds, yet it is gloomy and gray. As far as you can tell, the sun remains hidden. Ash drifts down from the sky, littering the black soil on which you stand. The landscape on which hundreds upon hundreds of graves sit is completely flat and seemingly infinite. 

“Whoah,” Emerson says behind you. 

“Creepy looking, huh?” Gaia asks, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Creepy looking indeed. Not only has the landscape been seemingly scorched, but there isn’t a single sign of life here. There are no trees, bushes, or plants of any kind. Not even grass. There are no insects or birds, and it is far too silent for your liking. Even if this is a resting place for the dead, there should still be some kind of life. Furthermore…

“Where’s the monster?” you ask, turning to look at Gaia.

Gaia only shrugs in response, looking to Bea instead. 

Bea, who is panting now, stubbornly sits down. 

Gaia groans. “Really?” they say, throwing their hands in the air. “Now? Couldn’t you have done this after finding the monster?”

Bea, of course, does not respond. She tilts her head at Gaia quizzically, continuing to pant. She lays down, resting her head on her front two paws. Her body is long enough to curl around multiple gravestones, and you find yourself slightly disturbed. You’re not sure why. 

“What?” Emerson asks. “What is it?”

“She’s tired,” Gaia explains, pinching something on the surface of their planet. “She does this occasionally when she wants to lay around for a while. Can’t blame her… we’ve been in those tunnels for a long while without any rest. She’s very stubborn—heh, just like me—so we’re not likely to get her to resume her tracking.”

She is panting a lot… maybe she’s thirsty. It’s been a while since she drank anything. Wait… it has, hasn’t it? Have you ever seen her drink? You know she must have drank something somewhat recently. Maybe you should give her some water. Do you have any water? When was the last time you—

“Well, the monster’s around here somewhere,” Gaia says. “It must be hiding somewhere, but we can find it easily enough. It doesn’t look like there’s too many places to hide around here.” They lift their hand up to their head and survey the flat landscape that seems to stretch on for eternity. “Let’s try searching the graves first.”

“Uhm—when you say ‘searching the graves,’ you don’t mean… digging them up, do you?” Emerson asks, a slight tremor to his voice. You don’t think he likes being here. “I don’t really want to disrespect the dead.”

Dead. Something about that word seems wrong to you. Incorrect. But how could it be? You are standing in a graveyard, after all. Who else would be here except for the dead?

Gaia shrugs. “Not yet. For now let’s just have a look around.”

“Not… yet?” Emerson echoes as Gaia marches forward toward the nearest grave.

Sensing their discomfort, you take their slime-coated hand and give it a comforting squeeze.

He shakes his head, causing his antennae to wobble slightly. “We shouldn’t be here. This place isn't for us…” They stop trying to find a way to articulate their thoughts. “It’s… never mind.”

Gaia wanders off on their own, and Emerson stays relatively close to you as you walk past the rows of graves. Given how flat the landscape is, you would think the monster would be found easily. There’s nowhere to hide. You can’t see the horizon, so it could be too far off in the distance for you to see. That, or the monster is small and able to hide behind the graves. Or maybe it’s disguised?

As you walk, you feel your gaze being pulled toward not just the headstones, but what’s written on them. Most are illegible, covered in black mold and ooze. However, there’s something about the ones you can read that intrigue you. 

“Rosalind Alberry,” “João Borges,” “Piper Moore.”

As you read the names on each headstone, you can’t help but feel a looming sense of dread. You’re looking for a specific name, aren’t you? You’re worried you might find someone familiar. You can feel their name, their face, and their voice somewhere behind the wall in your mind, trying to get through. 

There’s something else about the graves too. Something is missing, you think. You pause, looking at the grave of someone named “Clara Lunn.” You strain your mind, trying to think of what it might be. Your only response is silence. Nothing. Are you imagining it? No, there’s something, you’re sure of it. There’s too much space left empty on the gravestones. There should be more than just names.

Dates. 

They’re missing dates. The year they were born and the year that they died should be there. 

“Emerson!” you shout, feeling excited by your realization. “Look! Did you notice it?”

They turn to look at you, confused. “Notice what?”

“The graves are missing dates! See?” You point to Clara’s headstone. “It only has her name engraved here. Not when she was born or when she died.”

A few wrinkles form on his face. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Before you can explain further, you hear Gaia’s voice calls from the distance. “Hey guys! You might wanna come take a look at this!”

You run toward the sound of Gaia’s voice, stomping over the graves.  Did they find the monster? No, if they did, they would want you to stay back. Did they find a clue to where the monster had gone? Did they notice the missing dates too?

You come to a stop when you find yourself standing at the edge of a large pit carved from the dirt—an open grave. Gaia stands still, peering down below. 

“What is it?” Emerson walks up slowly behind you, taking extra care to step around the graves. 

In response, Gaia points into the grave below. Inside is a coffin with its lid ajar. Bea, who must have finally chosen to resume the search, is eagerly sniffing at its sides. 

“Should we look inside?” you ask quietly. 

Gaia nods solemnly, but Emerson squirms at the suggestion. “I don’t think we should,” he says. “There could be someone inside. We don’t want to disturb their rest.”

“Yes, but there could also be a monster.” Gaia’s voice sounds almost hungry. “Let’s just have a look.”

You and Gaia climb down into the open grave while Emerson stays above, refusing to go any further. 

You look to Gaia, then back up to Emerson who slowly shakes their head at you. 

Sorry, you think before slowly lifting the lid of the coffin and placing it on the ground. Strange. You could have sworn it would have been heavier. 

Inside the coffin lies a corpse. She clutches a bouquet of dead flowers between her two hands. She’s dressed in a long, lacy, yellow sundress with sandals to match. Red dreadlocks have been twisted into two buns, one on each side of her head. Her most peculiar feature—or peculiar  to you, anyway—is her face. While her right side seems human, the left side of her face is entirely coated in wilted succulents, the largest of which takes the place of an eye. They spiral down from her face and continue down her neck and her left shoulder, growing against her dark skin. They twist down her arm and to her hand, curling around, ending with one final succulent on her palm. 

Gaia sighs in disappointment. “Not a monster then.”

“So… now what?” you ask. 

“I think we should bury her,” Emerson says from above. “That way she can properly rest.”

Gaia nods in silent agreement. “There’s a shovel just over there,” they say, nodding to the space behind the coffin. “There’s just one, but we can make it work.” They sigh, reaching for the shovel. “Well, let’s go. We can’t exactly fill the grave while we’re still inside it.”

“Just a second. We have to put the lid back on,” you say, lifting the lid back off of the ground. Just as you’re about to place it back over the coffin, a voice cries out:

“Wait! Wait!”

You pause. You don’t recognize that voice.

“I’m not dead!”

The corpse springs up from her coffin.

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Don't Blame Me | John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!OC

Chapter 9: Run

Ao3 | Masterpost

John 'Soap' Mactavish wasn't thrilled to be given an escort mission to bring a young woman halfway across the world to a secret safe house especially when he has to pretend to be her husband. At least she's pretty.

General Tags: Fake Marriage, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Build, Canon-Typical Violence

Words: 2k

CW: Mentions of Domestic Abuse

He taped a piece of tarp to the broken window. He thought about stealing another car and decided against it. He felt bad enough about this one. He couldn’t steal someone’s car just before Christmas. He’d stopped believing in God a long time ago but he knew if he was real that would get him sent to hell for sure. 

It would take almost twenty-four hours to get to British Columbia from here. They decided to stay stateside till Washington. 

They’d get new clothes, toiletries, and anything else before they crossed over. He just wanted to put as much distance between them and Chicago as possible. 

They hadn’t talked much since the restaurant. They’d both dug into each other a bit and it still stung. It wasn’t out of cruelty, just genuine curiosity. Maybe he should have opened up a bit more to her. It’s not like she would know who Hassan was. 

He couldn’t stand the silence in the car and turned on the radio. Most of it was Christmas music. He flipped through till he found one he liked.

“Last Christmas I gave you my heart but the very next day you gave it away!” He sang along, nudging her with his elbow to get her to join in “This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special. Come on, Nina!”

“I remember this song.” She pushed his arm away but there was a smile tugging at her face. 

“Trust me, by the time we get there you’ll know all the Christmas songs.” He wanted to see her smile fully break through. “You celebrated Christmas when you were younger, right?”

“Younger, keyword.”

“I can fix that. We have to make it up for all that lost time.” 

“We don’t.” She was shaking her head.

“Listen, if we’re gonna be stuck together for it we’re celebrating. Cook up something nice and drink ourselves stupid. Pure blootered.” 

He was running through plans in his head. Most trees would be sold out but he was sure he could find a good bottle of scotch and a couple of steaks to cook. She didn’t seem entirely convinced. 

“It’ll be fun, Neen.” He turned up the music and tugged on her coat sleeve to get her to sway along with him.

The driving was easy. Just long stretches of straight highways cutting through the plains and farmland. Everything was covered in a layer of snow, it made him feel like he was driving through a snow globe. 

“Why did Price call you Soap?” She asked a little after they crossed into North Dakota. They’d broken into a bag of crisps. 

“It’s a nickname. Lots of people get them.” 

“I know what a nickname is. Why is yours Soap?” 

“Can’t tell you.” He said, reaching into her lap to grab a handful. 

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Classified,” He smirked, before eating. 

“You’re so boring sometimes,” She rolled her eyes and groaned.

“Because I won’t tell you classified information?” He chuckled.

“Who am I going to tell? Price? I’m sure he knows already.”

“You could tell your future friends.”

“I’m not going to live that long,” She laughed. 

“Don’t say that, Neen.” He stopped laughing, his mouth forming a thin line.��

“It’s just a joke.” She was getting defensive now. He didn’t want a fight.

“It’s not funny.” His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. He didn’t know how to tell her that the past twenty-four hours had been his most terrifying. That he kept his hand on her knee to know that she was still alive next to him, afraid her brain would bleed out of her head. That when he woke up and saw his knife missing he wanted to throw up. He’d never failed a mission, come close but always won over in the end. Trying to keep her safe felt like holding water in his hands. “I kill anyone who tries to hurt you.”

“I think I killed the last guy who hurt me, actually,” She smirked.

“Aye, ye did. Absolute weapon you are.” He was smiling again too. “I could have handled it though.”

“He was going to stab you in the face.”

“Would’ve gotten a nice new scar if it wasn’t for ya.” He ran his thumb over the scar on his chin. “I think one by my eye would have looked cool.”

“What happened here?” She asked, dragging a finger over her own chin. “Or is that also classified?”

“Cheeky.” He playfully pushed against her arm, “Just a fight when I was kid.”

“What was the fight about?”

“Couldn’t tell ya. Got punched in the back of the head, fell, and cut my chin open. My mates had to drag me to hospital. My maw was pissed.” He laughed. “So, you got any cool scars?”

“I don’t know if it’s cool but I have this.” She rolled up the edge of her shirt, and on her left side was a divet. A gunshot wound, small probably from long range. It was years old judging from how healed it was. 

“Who fucking shot you?”

“It was a hunting accident.” She said, pulling her shirt back down. “My dad and I were unknowingly going for the same deer. I hit the deer, he hit me.”

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. How old were you?”

“Fourteen,” She shrugged. “It wasn’t on purpose, I know that. The first and only time I ever saw him cry was when he had to dig it out. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I’ve been shot before it’s pretty fucking bad.” He was always surprised at how casually she could talk about her life. It made him wince hearing her treat getting shot like it was a skinned knee you get from falling off a bike. 

“Maybe you were just a baby about it then,” she giggled. She fucking giggled and that made him grin. 

It was getting dark by the time he decided they needed to make a full stop. He pulled into a larger truck stop. There were a couple fast food restaurants inside as well as a convenience store and gift shop. He slipped her a hundred.

“Get whatever you want. I’ll fill up the car.” He kept his eye on her from outside, using any window to keep track as she walked around filling up a basket. Even over some of the shelves, he could see the top of her head. He only lost sight of her as he put the pump back. 

He grabbed his own basket and immediately went to the fridges, grabbing multiple energy and sports drinks. He would sleep when he got her there. He hadn’t found her again but he could hear the slap of her slippers on the linoleum. He could hear her voice, she sounded irritated. Someone was talking back but he couldn’t make out the words. 

“Don’t touch me!” It was Nina. He dropped the basket, rushing down the main way till he saw her. An older man was hovering over her, a hand still outstretched towards her face. A red hand print blooming on his cheek. He moved faster than he could think. He pushed himself between them, placing an arm across Nina’s chest to move her behind him. 

“This is your wonderful husband, I assume?” He was English; London accent. He was older, in his later forties probably. He wasn’t dressed for the weather, oxfords, black pants, and an older-looking green jacket. 

“Do we have a problem?” John growled. His fingers wrapped around her arm protectively, and her muscles were tense. 

“You’re lovely wife seems a little worse for wear. Doing the civil thing and making sure she’s okay. Isn’t that right, love?” He craned his neck to look at Nina. She was holding onto the back of his coat. Her soft tugs pleading to let them leave. 

“You touch er’?” He couldn’t hide his rage. The man was the same height as him but John was bigger, stronger. ‘Give me a reason, fucker’ he thought. 

“George, we should go. It’s not a big deal.” She hadn’t called him that since New York. He could hear in her voice she was scared, he tightened his grip on her arm reassuringly. 

“I should ask you the same thing. Poor thing’s bruised like an apple.” He knew he didn’t need to defend himself to this stranger but did people think he did that to Nina? It made his stomach flip just at the idea. “Got a bit upset about the world cup, did you?”

“Did you touch my wife?” He barked it like an order. He grabbed the front of the man’s jacket, letting go of Nina. His other hand was clenched tightly. He would have taken all his anger and fear out on this man, beaten him bloody into the floor. He would have if he didn’t feel Nina’s hand wrap around his fist. Her mouth was against his shoulder, he could feel her warm breath on his ear. 

“Let’s just get our stuff and leave.” He let go of the man and let Nina pull him to the front register. He kept his arm around her, anyone who wanted to get close to her would have to go through him. 

“Enjoy your honeymoon, lovebirds,” the man called from across the parking lot as he helped Nina into the car. 

He slammed the door as he got in the car, it took him longer to get it started than usual. Nina was watching the man in the rearview for him. As soon as the engine started he pulled out as fast as he could.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his hand on her knee again. She was still looking in the rearview, not listening. He shook her leg a little. “Nina, are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh…yeah… I’m okay. I just…I don’t know.”

“Nina, did he touch you? I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Just my face.” She said, her own hand glossing over her bruised cheeks. “He sounded familiar.”

His stomach dropped.

“What do you mean? Do you know him?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like I’ve heard his voice before.” She was drifting away from him, gazing out the window. He shook her out of her head. 

“What did he say to you?”

“He was asking about my face and what happened and he saw the ring so he was asking if my husband did it. I told him I didn't want to talk and he touched my face and then you were there and you were yelling and I thought you were going to kill him and I didn’t know what to do.” She was blazing through her words, breathing hard. 

“Nina, you’re okay. I’m right here.” He rubbed circles on her knee, wishing he could do more. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Nina. You’re safe though. He won’t follow us, he won’t find us. If he does, it’ll be the last thing he ever fucking does.”

All his promises were followed with threats. Violence had become his greatest love language. He didn’t know how to show he cared besides that. He’d kill that man for her but he wouldn’t touch her, not more than this. He’d call her his wife but he wouldn’t kiss her. He’d clean her wounds but would fight about sleeping in the same bed. 

Her hand rested on his. It was warm and he could feel every muscle and tendon twitch beneath her skin. The involuntary movements, just her being alive next to him. Her hand fitted perfectly with his and it made him sweat. He thought about the train and how that seemed like half a lifetime ago. The warmth of her fingers against his skin in the dark. 

He flipped his hand over so their palms were against each other. He was slow as he took the band of her hand and pressed his lips against it. He didn’t know how else to tell her he cared. 

Tag List: @yeyinde @queen-ilmaree @yearningforsappho

LMK if you want to be added for this or any other fic 💗

[forjongseong]

PART 9! HERE WE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Jay mopping the floor, using the mop handle like a microphone stand.

we already KNOW thats him irl dhsjakdhajk

“Let me love you,” he sang, dipping you and kissing your collarbones. “Good morning, my queen.”

me giggling all ugly and shit MORNING JAY

He’s really a malewife at this point, you thought.

MALEWIFE DHSJAKDHAJK teach me how to make mine one too

“I checked last night and I think you’re running out of pads, but I forgot which one you use,” Jay explained, stepping closer to the shelf of pads. “Is it this one?” He asked, pointing to a pink packaging.

no really, jay. HOW DO I TEACH MY BF THESE MANNERS? THANKS

“Because being a woman is fucking expensive, love,” you chuckled as you replied to him.

DUDE this is so true. pads are fucking expensive. i said the exact thing to my man too when we had to run to the store to buy me some dhajskdhjakdhak he was so shocked at the price ):

You laughed at his reaction and gave him a pat on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Hwi. If you’re dating someone, let me know. I need to make sure she’s not taking advantage of my assistant.”

I WILL NEVER TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS BEAUTIFUL MAN OMFG DONT DOUBT ME

“Jay,” you whispered, “I don’t think I have the energy to do anything.”

GIRL SSSSHHHHH HE WANTS IT HE WILL DO IT

“You mean like… somnophilia?” Jay asked.

THE WAY I FUCKING GASPED WITH MY JAW DROPPING. THE QUEEN HAD SPOKEN INTO THE MIC, JAY. DO AS THE QUEEN SAYS AND STFU

Jay closed his eyes and bit his lips, almost as if he was imagining it happening. “Please don’t judge me, but that actually sounds hot.”

JUDGING U, JAY e_e

“Because you should give people the stuff that you like,” you answered, remembering that it was a lesson your parents taught you when you were young. “I’ll finish the gingerbread latte.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll drink that one.”

THE WAY WE TALKED ABOUT THIS SCENE WHEN U WENT AND GRABBED BOTH DRINKS TOO omfg nana now seeing jay in display im crying bye

“Oh, it feels nice to be called appa by a daughter,” he said, placing a hand over his chest sentimentally. Jay rolled his eyes and just dragged his father to the front door.

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO JEALOUS JAY I AM WHEEZING

“Sweetheart.” Jay’s mother turned to face you, wiping her hands on her apron before she put her hand under your chin to tilt your face up. “You’re not letting anybody down as long as you love him. And believe me, he adores you.”

from experience, FELT. you never wanna disappoint anyone and try so hard to learn to do something for the one you love. and sometimes, you feel like you have no one to turn to or tell to even though you should be able to tell that certain someone. fhjaskdhjak sorry for blabbering T_T like myself for example, i was really afraid to be a part of my bf's family when he proposed. i was scared that i wasnt going to live up to anyone's expectations. but his mother really helped me because i didnt have my mom to teach me while growing up and i didnt know how to do anything. so im very thankful for all of this hdjaskdhjak OKAY ENOUGH ABOUT ME

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been slapping my ass quite often,” you commented, taking a cotton pad and drenching it with micellar water. “Do you like it that much?”

“Can’t really blame me. You’ve got a cute ass,” Jay shrugged, reaching for the remote.

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH THE ASS SLAPPING SCENE DJAHSJDKASHAHAHAHA I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT

At the same time, Jay spotted you from a distance, and he sent you another text as he smiled, keeping his eyes on you.

I GUSHED AND MELTED AND SCREAMED SO LOUD HAHA

“Guys,” she said, flipping her hair back to look at the rest of the group. “Jay’s auntie is here to pick him up.”

NO WONDER SHE'S AN EX-GF LMAO BYE BITCH

Jay moved to shield you from their stares and gave you a warm smile. “I’ve talked with them enough. I’d rather keep you company now. Two minutes, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

S T A N D A R D <- DONT TALK TO ME IF U AINT JAY

“Baby?” Jay sat up, watching as you made your way to the kitchen.

BABY T_T im sitting back down

He moved closer to you and took your hand, bringing it up to his lips for him to kiss.

WHO PUT ONIONS IN FRONT OF ME?

“For the first part, you can say my parents raised me well,” Jay explained. He put his finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “And for the second part, I just watched a lot of porn and romance movies, to be honest.”

HAHAHDSHAJKDHAJKDHAJKS SHUT UP JAY IM WHEEZING

“I read a lot of smut,” you said, matter-of-factly.

THE EXPOSURE SADFGHJK BYE

“I’m gonna go shower, and if you’re still working by the time I’m done, I’m gonna get mad,” Jay said. He leaned in to kiss the top of your head before disappearing. You just smiled and continued to work.

ouuuuu so scary~

“Your hands can continue to be occupied,” Jay said, his hot breath tickling your thighs. “Please stroke my hair.”

BRUHHHHHHH omfg ofc jay anything for you!

“That’s sexy,” Jay commented. You just raised your eyebrows and nodded. “You’re sexy.”

THIS IS SENDING ME BYYYYYYYYYYYE I AM GONE NOW

“But wear the kimono again,” he requested. “It’s a great color on you.”

#TEAMFERAL

“You made me wait for sex for two days?!” Jay spat.

THE WAY I LAUGHED BECAUSE HIS ASSHAT DHJASKDHJASK HE DIDNT ASK EARLIER LMAO

The actual late-night snack can wait.

CRYING YELLING PUKING

NO BECAUSE I ALREADY FORGOT WHAT I WROTE HAHAHAHHA READING THIS MADE ME THINK A LOT LIKE what scene is this??? did this happen??? KAJHDSJKASHDSA

glad some parts are relatable! sometimes when I write I worry if the scene is too perfect or too good to be true but then comments like yours remind me that LIFE IS LIKE THAT sometimes

NOW GO DESTROY PART 9.5 BEFORE I RELEASE PART 10

[percontaion-points]

Covet chapters 160 & 161, Epilogue, & Bonus Chapters

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 160

As the last one falls away, the beast throws back his head and bellows like his life depends on it. The roar bounces off the rocky walls and ceilings, echoing throughout the cavern for several seconds. 

And then he shifts, and a man is standing in front of me dressed in a royal-blue tunic, gold leggings with laces, and a gold and royal blue cloak tied over one shoulder and fastened with a large sapphire broach. 

He’s tall, with smoke-gray eyes and blond hair fastened into a braid. He’s also got a short, pointed goatee and seems to be in his late thirties. I shift back but don’t try to approach him. “Are you all right?” I ask this man who has suffered so much and who, in his own way, has helped me through so many of my own troubles. 

He looks at me like he doesn’t understand what I’m saying, but eventually it must sink in because he nods. “Th-th-thank you,” he finally manages to say. 

Do you guys remember when I was reading the series about the dragon people? And they found the iron dragon who had been held captive for decades? So long that he literally forgot how to transform back into a human, and speech was difficult for him. 

Yeah. I can’t help but think that the second this guy was freed, he transforms back easily, and also remembers basic human communication. 

Now I really do rear back in shock, because who is her? And why does she need to be protected if she’s already got the Crown?

Chapter 160 summary: Grace goes in and uses the key to free the beast. (He is never given a name, so I will continue to call him Beast.) As I mentioned, he transforms back to a human easily, and can communicate in passable English, despite his ancient-looking clothing. 

Macy brings forward some snacks she always has with her, but Beast is wary of anybody. Grace opens some water and drinks some, and eats a cookie to show that it’s okay. 

She then asks about the crown. He says “no crown” over and over. Everybody silently goes “What do we do now?” Beast then says “Her crown. Must have her protect crown.”

Chapter 161

I hold my hand up for my friends to see, and as they all crowd around, I can’t help asking, “Now what?”

Chapter 161 summary: Grace promises that they’ll protect whoever this “she” is that Beast is talking about. Hudson warns about making blanket promises, because what if it’s like his shitty mom or somebody? Beast goes on and says “Give mate crown”. This fills Grace with hope that there’s another gargoyle out there. This makes Grace agree to help his mate out. 

Beast then grabs Grace’s hand, but then pulls away and walks towards the entrance to the cave. The others want to go after him, but Grace says that there’s not really a lot of places he can go that they couldn’t follow after. But she looks down at her hand and realizes that Beast had put the crown into the palm of her hand (like the flowers had been). 

Chapter 0

I think it’s time I tell her about her emerald-green string.

Chapter 0 summary: For some unholy reason, we get a final chapter, but in Hudson’s POV. This is never explained, nor do I know why any of it is necessary, but here we are. 

As Macy opens up the portal to go back to the school, Hudson looks at Grace and wonders if his love for her is enough to overcome her lingering feelings for Jaxon. The feelings he knows came bubbling to the surface when she watched Jaxon die. (Which he doesn’t blame her for, and wishes it had been him instead.) Grace turns and tells Hudson that she loves him; he returns the sentiment. 

They go through the portal, only to realize that the forest around the school grounds is literally on fire. Everybody runs inside, only to find that the interior of the school has been completely and utterly trashed, and everybody is gone. 

They find the school’s healer, Marise, in the infirmary, and she tells them that Cyrus did this. They now think that the battle on the gargoyle island was nothing but a distraction, and think that this means war. Well, more war, since Cyrus attacking them on the island was the first declaration of war. 

However, they naturally think that Cyrus’s goons killed everybody, and that the 11 of them are literally the only ones who will be able to stand up against Cyrus. (Completely ignoring the fact that there’s no mention of bodies. The narration only said that everybody was “gone”. Besides, why would Cyrus kill those who were on his side?)

Beast says “She can save us”, while pointing to Grace’s hand. He then transforms back into stone, leaving the others to wonder what the hell he was talking about. 

Bonus chapter 1

Grace looks so knackered when we get back to Katmere from visiting the Crone that I want to wrap my arms around her and carry her to my room, but I have no idea if she’ll let me or not.

LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED FOR THIS. 

And I’m still not okay. More, I’m pretty sure I never will be again.

Bonus chapter 1 summary: We have the scene right after everybody came back from visiting the crone. Hudson and Grace are joking and flirting, and everything is kind of the same as it was in the original, only with Hudson oozing love for her. 

Then Jaxon attacks, and things are again, way too similar for me to say much about it. But when Grace calms Jaxon down and he admits that his soul is fractured from the breaking of their bond, Hudson’s heart starts to break. 

He slips away and goes to his room. Grace sends him a bunch of texts in a row, but he only answers the last one to tell her goodnight. And then he mopes around. 

Bonus chapter 2

And as we take off fading back up Denali, I can’t help thinking that sometimes you get lucky. Sometimes the family you’re born with and the family you make coincide. And that makes all the difference. 

Bonus chapter 2 summary: Unlike the previous bonus chapter, this one is a scene that wasn’t included. Because Grace wasn’t there. Hudson goes to his brother in the middle of the night, and asks to go for a run. As Jaxon puts his running gear on, Hudson looks around the room. He finds a wooden toy horse that he’d made for his brother. Looking at the thing brings back all of the good times he’d had with his brother… and all the things his shitty dad had done to torture both of them. 

They run, but Jaxon doesn’t seem interested in talking. Hudson tries to talk about Grace, but Jaxon is quick to shut him down. Finally, Jaxon says that the two of them aren’t close, and never have been. Hudson brings up the horse, but Jaxon had forgotten who had given it to him before he was forced to go live with the Bloodletter. This brings back some memories previously buried, and he apologizes for having killed Hudson. They crack up over that, and ask if Hallmark has cards for that.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Cigarettes and Perfume.

Pairing: Katya x Sofia [Goncharov (1973)].

Word Count: 0.9k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships and Implied Cheating.

Katya Goncharov was an exceptionally difficult woman to be with.

Sofia knew that best. Although their relationship was a fickle thing, sometimes sweet and sometimes bitter, as cold as ice on some days and as warm as a lover’s embrace on others, they always seemed to find themselves at each other’s sides, and Sofia was always with Katya – to whatever definition ‘with’ was supposed to suit at that time. Tonight, Sofia took it to mean lying in Katya’s bed, staring at the high ceiling of her bedroom as sleep failed to overtake her. Yet again, her paranoia soon won over her exhaustion, and with no small amount of disinclination, she rose, allowing the silken sheets to fall from her lithe form. Rest would elude her, as it so often managed to. That, she couldn’t blame entirely on her dear friend, even if she was tempted to try.

Katya, evidently, didn't share her aspirations. Sofia found her on the bedroom's balcony, laid across a loveseat that overlooked the lights of the city. She’d shrugged on a pale robe; the kind Sofia had only ever seen in shop windows and the closets of women with disgustingly rich husbands before coming to Naples. The latter, Sofia supposed Katya was, but Sofia had never been able to think of her as anyone’s wife, as someone who could be so bound to another. Yet another factor that complicated their relationship. Was it possible to attach herself to someone who could hold no attachments? Could she ever love Katya when Katya seemed determined to love no one aside from herself?

She was tempted to ask, but bit her tongue as she came to stand beside Katya. With idle, careless movements, Sofia perched herself on the edge of her loveseat, allowing her lips to brush against Katya’s cheek, the corner of her jar before pulling away, breathing in the scent of stale smoke and salt water. “You left me,” She muttered, because she knew Katya would drink in the attention, the wanting. “I thought you promised to stay by my side, this time.”

“My apologies, dear.” Her tone was light, flat, entirely devoid of remorse. She took another drag, then smothered her cigarette in a porcelain ashtray, her now available arm draping itself over Sofia’s shoulder. She held her close, but not tightly, not in a way that would suggest she cared whether or not Sofia returned her intimacy. "It must've slipped my mind."

The act was enough on its own to draw out an airy chuckle from Sofia. She brushed a stray hair away from Katya’s face, making a half-hearted attempt to rake her fingers through the tangle of platinum curls before abandoning the effort. “Are you thinking about your husband?”

“I may be,” She answered, rather simply. “Are you thinking about your family?”

“I may be.”

“Broke cunt.”

“Spoiled bitch.”

Katya smiled softly, drumming her fingers against Sofia’s back. It was a subtle hint, but a familiar one, In a moment, Sofia had closed the distance between them, pulling Katya into a shallow, lingering kiss. She was aware of the remnants of Katya’s lipstick staining her lips, but couldn’t bring herself to pay it a second thought, not as Katya let out a slight sigh, falling away and burying her face in Sofia’s shoulder. “Some nights, I wish he wouldn’t come home,” She admitted, with less reluctance than she should’ve had. “I wish I knew when my bed would be left cold and when I would long for it to be. I wish he’d have the decency to mind his distance or tell me when he couldn’t be bothered to.” And then, as her eyes fluttered shut. “I wish I could be with you for longer than a night.”

“No one says you can’t be.” It’d been an idea they’d played with in the darkest nights, in the latest hours. Leaving, running away, ‘eloping’ – when Katya was feeling especially romantic.  None of it was realistic, more akin to the fantastical musings of a pair of schoolgirls than plans two women would make for one another, but it was nice to think about, to whisper to each other when Katya couldn’t find the strength to hold her knife to Sofia’s throat and Sofia couldn’t summon the will to dare Katya to cut down. “We’ll go to Rome, or Florence, or farther – Greece, Spain, America. We’ll find somewhere they can’t follow, and we’ll be happy.”

Katya seemed to relax, a fraction of the tension in her shoulder melting away as Sofia spoke. “And when someone asks for my last name?”

“No one will think to. They’ll be so dazzled by your beauty, they won’t be able to speak at all.” She kissed the top of Katya’s head. “Or, we’ll make you a new one. Something so hideous, no one would ever believe you chose it for yourself.”

She could feel Katya grin against her chest, but her voice remained melancholy. “In another world, one with no husbands, and fewer guns.” And then, as she melted into Sofia’s chest. “In another world, you don’t know how much I would give to be with you.”

Sofia only smiled, holding Katya close for the seconds she could.

“In another world.”

[omiscurls]

Diluc, zhongli and childe reaction to their s/o breaking up with them after something they said, maybe after a week or so after they argument they think the s/o forgave them but they break up instead? I WANT THE ANGST

consequences

plot: reader decides to break up with the character after not speaking to them

contains: diluc, zhongli, tartaglia (idk how am i going to do this to my special boy but ill try my best)

warnings: angst, breakups, implied past toxic behavior

a/n: OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO HARD- I DONT HAVE THE HEART TO BREAKUP WITH PEOPLE

diluc

hopeless thoughts ran through your head as you fought with yourself about wether to enter angel’s share or not, hand halfway through to the doorknob. your mind hadn’t been made up just yet, you were still in between two very different scenarios - the urge to forgive him for his hurtful words growing stronger each day, as anger and other emotions subdued to loneliness and the feeling of a part of you missing, ever since the two of you stopped talking.

your mind flashed back to the exact moment when you looked into diluc’s eyes, always so soft and calm for you, forming a way of anger he never expressed towards you before. to the feeling you got right then and there that this man is not the same one you’ve met and fell in love with.

the process of coming to terms with that conclusion was as painful as the first strike of his angry glare, and even though he seemed to have realized the weight of his words right after saying them out loud, no matter how hard you tried, you could not erase them from your memory.

one strike of that pain, one memory of that night was enough to make you go through with your plan, door to the bar opening with a little screech.

it was like just another late afternoon, with charles tending the bar, knights and townsfolk filling the hot room, and the smell of alcohol traveling through the air.

“hi” you said to the bartender “is master diluc around?”

charles, busy with his work, quickly replied that he’s out back, opening a barrel. you nodded and went where his directions guided, pushing open yet another door to see the back of the man you loved, looking just as always from this angle, working over said chore. he didn’t even seem to mind the fact that someone walked in on him working.

“diluc” you said with a sigh, and he almost immediately turned around, tools falling from his hands and onto the ground.

“darling, hi” he replied quietly, walking over to you but stopping half way, eyes set to analyze your expression, figure out what was going on in your mind. “i’m glad you’re here safely, i haven’t heard from you in over a week” he added cautiously, as if weighing every word before deciding to say it out loud.

“well” you sighed again, once again going over wether you should actually break things off right then, mind taking pity on his troubled expression, tired eyes, on the obvious eyebags that were much more apparent than before, a sign that he didn’t catch too much sleep. “i had to come to terms with what i’m about to say”

he wanted to tell you he was sorry, he really did, but words didn’t seem to come out of his throat. obviously he was sorry, it was a bad day and he meant none of what he said, but you knew that, right? you knew he always cared for you and loved you… right?

he wasn’t the best with words, hence, the idea of apologizing with a gesture after you were done teaching him his lesson came to mind. a brilliant idea, one could never go wrong with a thoughtful deed for their significant other, just give him one more chance.

“and my conclusion is, we need to take a step back and… reevaluate things in our lives. i’m not saying this is the ultimate end, but what you’ve said, and how you’ve said it made me realize…”

you were making a good point. you were talking about your feelings. he should listen, but the only thing he heard was the blood pumping through his veins, and the two single words

the end

so there won’t be another chance? he won’t be able to prove himself? what do you mean, the end? the best thing that ever happened to him in his sad life was coming to an end because of him? but he was so careful, he treated you like his treasure, because that’s how he truly felt, like his lifeline, something he could never lose…

and all it took was one sentence too much, one glare too intense. for the first time in what, six, maybe seven years, his eyes began to water, as he blinked the tears back at a rapid pace.

“… and that was a shitty thing to do. i hope you know that. i don’t know if i had anything else i wanted to say, perhaps i did, but… that’s all. see you around, i guess” you mumbled, loosing confidence in what you were saying, taking one last glance at his lost eyes before turning around.

turning around from him, from the love of your life, was perhaps the hardest thing you ever had to do, and yet you did do it.

before you could reach the door again, though, a cold hand caught your forearm. your eyes met his, with just a glimmer of hope that he would magically say all the right words and somehow make you stay, you didn’t want to leave, yet knew you had to. if you wanted to preserve the respect you had for yourself, you had to leave.

why were you giving him time to say something?

his helpless gaze seemed to speak with a thousand words, begging, pleading you to not leave through that door, but as much as his lips did part, not a single word left.

he couldn’t say anything to hold you back, and you ripped away from his grip, turned, and walked away.

and just like that,

he was all alone, again.

he was gonna need a drink.

zhongli

tears flooded your vision, blurring every details of zhongli’s face, causing you to only see a pale color palette, instead of your favorite person, ever. maybe it was for the best, maybe it would make it easier, you thought, but that was a foolish thing to hope for.

even through the salty tears, you could make out his eyes, it’s glow never failing to guide you, and comfort you, now seeming to burn their way through you, through your body and soul.

“you’re stuck in another love, zhongli, we both know that!” you exhaled a bit louder than you intended to, the outcome sounding more like an accusation than a fact. “how can you ever say you love me, when it’s so obvious, and so apparent, that every time you look at me, you see someone else? you HOPE for someone else?”

you could only wish the words you spoke didn’t come out as a complete mess, because of those tears you were constantly choking on. desperation seeped through your voice, as the feeling of helplessness rose every time you looked at your lover and at the anguish, and confusion he presented.

how could he make this so hard? it’s not like you’ve presented some statement he didn’t know already, right?

you hoped your eyes would say all the things you didn’t trust your voice to. you hoped he’d somehow hear how all you ever wanted was to be enough, was to meet his standard, how it tore you open that every time he said <i love you> his eyes wandered everywhere but onto yours, how all his touches seemed absent, how all his compliments were truly about some other face, some other smile, some other kind soul.

the worst part was, how could you blame him? how can anyone, ever, blame someone for being in love, of all things? love was something beautiful, and once you’ve experienced it, you’re drowned in it forever, and don’t even want to see the surface again.

love is beautiful. when you’re the one who’s receiving it. love was beautiful, to you, too, when you loved how his wisdom flew through his words, how his kindness hugged your spirit, how his aura brought you comfort. you loved his eyes, you loved his cheeks, his lips, every single detail of his skin.

the love you felt made you complete, made you warm, until you finally realize the thing you should’ve seen much sooner.

that you were merely a mirror for him to look at someone else, someone long gone.

suddenly all the warmth you felt was directed back at you, burning you inside, making you wish you never felt it in the first place.

“aren’t you gonna say something?” you whispered.

his long fingers found their way to your hand, but you snatched it away.

if you fell onto his charms now, you wouldn’t be able to get out once more.

his breath hitched as he gathered himself to speak

“i want nothing more than to love you” he said, although quietly, it rang through your ears like the loudest of screams.

you scoffed.

“we both would’ve wanted that, then”

“and i’m sure i can, if you just—“

now, laughter was all that you were capable of letting out.

“zhongli, you can’t train yourself to love someone. and even if you could, then how do you think that would make me feel? like i’m so unlovable you had to force yourself through it to grow accustomed to a feeling similar to love?”

“that’s not what i—“

“that’s what it means! let it go, please, please just… let me go” you sighed, standing up from the bench over at liyue harbor that you were sitting on. the sun has begun to set on the other side of the sea, and you couldn’t help but notice, it would’ve been the perfect date.

“i do sincerely hope you’ll find someone who’ll love you just the same” he finally stated, as he gave up on trying to make you stay.

“why?” you chuckled “so i could make them suffer the same way you made me?”

tartaglia

(archons give me strength)

you found nothing but guilt, looking into the endless ocean trapped in his eyes. for the first time in forever, they glistened, but not with a spark of joy, like you always hoped they would, they shone a sickly shine, caused by a thin layer of tears, that didn’t dear to spill over his porcelain cheeks, almost as if afraid of making contact with the ruthless face of the number eleven of the fatui harbingers.

he could’ve easily been crying if only he let himself go. he would’ve been in tears, sniffing and coughing, but he just… wasn’t. he held those tears in the gates of his eyes, as if his life depended on it.

the guilt you found inside them, wasn’t his, but yours. you felt guilty, watching this composed, confident man fall into pieces right before you, crumbling before your sight. why were you doing this? you seemed to forget all those terrible things you’ve heard just from the way his irises begged for forgiveness and brows furrowed in inexplicable sadness.

but you couldn’t, no, this time you couldn’t.

“my word” you swore on dear life you’d burst into tears if your voice shook right now “my word is final. we’re over. and that’s… that’s it. you need to understand that there won’t be another chance.”

the moment his lips parted, you knew you were lost.

“i have told you so many times already, but i will say this as much as i need to, it will never happen again! i swear, on everything i love and everything that i am, i swear on life itself, i won’t ever let that happen again! you know i won’t! come on, i promise you, if there’s anything you can say about me is i do keep my promises, don’t i? darling, please…”

“promise yourself to heal and become better, first” you stated coldly, watching faith disappearing slowly from his fixed look.

“im sorry, you know i am, im sorry, im sorry, im so fucking sorry!” a scream left his throat as desperation took over both reason and self-respect.

“sorry isn’t gonna cut it”

“then what will? i’ll do anything, anything in the world, anything to prove myself to you. i get that you can’t love me, i understand that, but please, let me win your trust again.”

he said unnaturally calmly, compared to what he did before, and you got concerned immediately.

i understand that you can’t love me, his words rang through your head. oh god, what were you doing? guilt stroke again, right at where you felt your heart to be.

right when you wanted to turn around and leave, he must’ve sensed that, and pulled you into a tight embrace. not suffocating, as they often describe it, not toxic and desperate, but… as loving as every other hug you’ve ever received from him. as calming and grounding, even though you could feel his heart racing. he didn’t refuse for you to leave, he didn’t trap you.

you understood after a while,

he was saying goodbye. all the love trapped inside his heart seeped out onto you, all his feelings surrounding and engulfing you.

“let me promise you this” he whispered, voice shaking painfully “the next time i’ll see you, i’ll be a better man. someone you will be able to be proud of, someone worthy of both your trust, and love. i won’t stop until i’ll be enough for you to look at me without the disgust and fear you have now. i promise. i’ll be better.”

“until then, then.” was the only thing you were capable of saying before leaving.

as soon as the door shut behind you, you rested against a wall and covered your mouth with a hand, unable to hold your tears any longer.

you heard a cry through the door. so he does have some feelings left, after all

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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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[moemammon]

Can we get some hurt/comfort type stuff where the bros catch MC crying?

It's cool if not, drink water and remember that you're a really cool person ♡

"I Saw You Crying.. Are You Okay?" (Feat. The Demon Bros and GN!MC)

(Hurt comfort, angst, and feels of all varieties)

Enjoy❤️

Lucifer

Lucifer

When Lucifer caught you crying the moment you set your school bag down, he knew something was wrong. He likes to be aware of every situation if he's able, so seeing you like this and not knowing what's the matter is... troubling, to say the least.

He watches your demeanor as you slink off to your room, hoping no one stops you on your way there. He's the type to gather information before engaging, but it's not like he can figure anything out like this, so he goes after you.

He finds you curled up into a pitiful ball, sobbing into a pillow. It doesn't take long for his hand to find a place atop your head, gently petting your hair back. Lucifer doesn't speak, instead allowing you to initiate it first.

And whether or not you DO tell him what's wrong, he listens carefully and provides you comfort all the same. He knows that words can't always fix everything, but having someone to confide in can be a comfort.

"I'll stay here for as long as you need me. Ah, my work? Don't worry about that either. I doubt I could get anything done while worrying over you, MC."

Mammon

When Mammon spotted the tears streaking your cheeks, he immediately went into defensive mode. Can you blame him though? He's supposed to be your guardian! He's ready to fuckin FIGHT

And as such, he immediately hurried after you despite you trying to escape to the bathroom. He'll grab your arm, pull you close, and hurry you off to his room before his brothers can steal you

Promptly plops you down on the sofa and drapes his coat over you. He doesn't know what happened, but he wants names. And if that's not the case, he'll quickly calm down to listen to you.

Big bro has had his fair share of letting his baby brothers vent, so he's pretty good at this sort of thing. Actually, he tries his best to help out if he can. He might not be the best at it, but he means well. And he'll try especially hard if it means you'll smile again.

"Hey... look at me, MC. Crying outta nowhere like that... When something's botherin' ya, come to me. If it's enough to make ya cry, I wanna be involved."

Levi

Levi had been through enough to know the difference between eyes that were red form staying up late, and eyes that were red from crying. Sometimes he’d experience both, depending on what he might've been binging.

But in your case, your red eyes were caused by the latter, along with the sniffling you thought you could hide from him when you came into his room and asked if you could watch tv with him. Of course he agreed, and he gathered up his courage so that the moment you came close enough, he could pull you into his arms.

He's no good at stuff like this. He never thought of himself as the type that anyone would come to for comfort, and yet here you were, choosing his room as your sanctuary. There's no way he could deny you after you came so far!

Levi's definitely a good listener since he's not sure how to handle giving advice, and does his best to dish out distractions. Wanna play a game? He recently got a snack crate shipped in, full off all sorts of sweets! Wanna try some? And he just ordered a super cute sheep plush if you feel like hugging it. Or... you could hug him too, if you want.

"I know that.. things can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. And it probably doesn't help that you're away from your world. But if it's any comfort, y-you can always come here. You're my Henry-... no, you're my friend. So I want to make sure you're okay."

Satan

Satan caught sight of you scrubbing your eyes when you thought no one was watching, and would've assumed you got dust in your eye if he didn't notice how red your face was.

And the way you suddenly closed the book in your hands, put it in a random spot, and rushed off. You knew how Lucifer could be when it came to the organization of the library, so there's no way you'd risk a lecture over a simple mistake.

He hung back for a bit instead of pursuing you, because he knew how beneficial a little alone time could be when one was upset. But that doesn't mean he won't text you to see if you're alright.

When you reply, and grant him permission to see you after he asks for it, Satan arrives with extra blankets, herbal tea, and obviously, a few books. He'll ask if you want to talk about it, but if not, that's fine too.

"They say lavender chamomile tea works wonders for stress relief, and I can attest to that. I... don't know what's on your mind, and I know it can be difficult to put your feelings into words at times, but I'm here, even if you need to yell."

Asmo

When Asmo heard your sobs echoing from the bathroom, he either assumes that you A), poked yourself in the eye during your skincare routine he made you begin, or B), something was wrong.

And from the harsh sound of your cries, he figured it was the latter. There's no way he would let you endure any hardships alone! Asmo to the rescue!

He's quick to politely knock on the door, but doesn't wait for you to allow him access when he's already got it open and closes it behind himself. He gets one good look at you, and he's already cooing.

The boy cups your face and peppers it with little kisses, wiping your tears, smoothing your hair back, and ushering you over to sit in the side of the tub, so he can hug you tight.

"Darling, are you okay?? Look at the state of you... Shall I pamper your worries away with a nice bath? And when that's over, I plan to spoil you until you can't think of anything other than my beautiful face! I'll do anything to make you smile again."

Beel

Beel intended to go to your room to share a new flavor of potato chips with you, but instead was met with the sound of your shaking sobs from behind your closed door. That's all it takes for him to forget about the bags of chips in his arms.

They're discarded to the ground and he hesitates near your door for a moment, worry welling up within him. But Beel won't let you cry for long, because he's already entered your room and is sheepishly approaching your bed.

Without a word, the big ol bear gathers you into his arms for a tight hug, leaning into your shoulder and exhaling. You both stay in that position for a long, long while until your crying has calmed.

He pulls back to wipe your tears and snot, and gives you a worried look. What could've had you crying like this? Were you sad about something? You didn't seem physically hurt... Was someone mean to you? Was it Mammon-

"MC... please don't cry. I'll stay with you as long as you need me to, and I won't let go of you. If you need to hit something, you can hit me. Should I stay here for the night? ....Belphie won't mind. I don't want you to be alone."

Belphie

Belphie didn't know why you weren't answering his texts, but while he normally wouldn't mind, he was desperate to have your attention. Or rather, he really wanted to hug you.

And it seemed you would need just that when he entered your room to find you all curled up under your blankets, hiccuping away the aftermath of a hard crying session. What could've had you in such a state was beyond him, but it bothered him to no end.

So Belphie did what he does best and invaded your space, curling up next to you to lay down and pull you into his arms. He doesn't say anything, only your soft sobs breaking the silence between you.

His hand gently rubs your back when he feels you shake, and he squeezes you a little tighter when you sniffle. Eventually, he looks down at you and moves the blankets from your face, his expression soft.

"...Feeling a little better now? I can't stand seeing you so upset. If someone hurt you, I'll take care of it. If not, I'll let you cry in my arms for as long as you need. And maybe you'll feel better after a nap, hm? Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

[etheriaaly]

Just The Two Of Us [C! Tommyinnit x GN! Reader]

FLUFF TO ANGST (PLATONIC)  WARNINGS: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, character death, cursing

Reader pronouns: They/them 

A/N: Hi, this is my first DSMP fanfic so uhh I hope u enjoy lmao. There might be grammatical errors so pls do not mind it :D

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ∣ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

—

[Y/N] already lost count of all the pranks and chaos they made with Tommy. They didn't like causing havoc or pulling pranks on people but if Tommy asked them to tag along, they would. Tommy is their best friend after all. Plus, where's the fun in life without a little risk?

[Y/N] was just at their Cottage house, peacefully making the potions that Quackity ordered just hours ago. Since [Y/N] is a skilled witch, it was no shock when they owned a Potions business. Everyone in the SMP server knows about this and they usually come and buy their potions. 

They were about to finish the last set of potions that Quackity ordered until they ran out of ingredients. "Dammit." [Y/N] muttered under their breath. They turned around and immediately went to find if they have any stock ingredients in their barrels or chests.

When they saw no stock ingredients, [Y/N] sighed and decided to do some last minute ingredients grinding. It was until they opened the door and saw Tommy standing in front of their house door.

[Y/N] knew that his presence is no good because that motherfucker is grinning ear to ear. They playfully groaned and asked, "What is it this time child?"

"Hey, I told you not to call me a child anymore!" Tommy suddenly protested, feeling insulted but went back to his sly grin and said, "Let's prank Skeppy and Bad." 

"That's a horrible idea." 

"Come on, bitch. It'll be fun." 

And they did come with Tommy. A couple hours had passed and [Y/N] had already forgotten about the ingredients they were gonna get for Quackity's potions. Tommy said that Big Q's order can wait but the prank can't. 

It wasn't long after Bad and Skeppy saw the two teenagers doing their little harmless prank on them. 

[Y/N] caught sight of the two and immediately tugged on Tommy's shirt. "Fuck, Tommy we gotta go." 

Tommy, unfazed and still focused on the prank, said, "Just a little longer." 

[Y/N] nudged Tommy's side using her elbows as the two teenagers can now hear Skeppy and Bad's incoherent yelling drawing closer and closer to them. 

"RUN!" [Y/N] yelled as they both left the things they used to try to prank BBH and Skeppy. 

The two let out a laugh as they ran away. Tommy constantly turned his head back to see if Skeppy and Bad are still after them. 

[Y/N] and Tommy continued to run even though Bad and Skeppy stopped coming after them. It wasn't until the two teenagers finally stopped running so that they could catch their breath. 

"What now?" [Y/N] gasped, who is still out of breath from both running and laughing at the same time. They looked at Tommy. 

Tommy grinned again and then grabbed their arm, "I have something pog to show you." 

[Y/N] didn't question Tommy and just let him drag them to a mountain. 

Once they have reached the destination, [Y/N] let out a 'wow'. The view is breathtaking and it is very peaceful. The mountain isn't that very far from the SMP but it looks like very few have come across this part. 

"So, what do you think?" Tommy asked, looking at the view. The view consists of the calming ocean waves and a peaceful sunsetting with birds passing by. 

[Y/N] turned to Tommy and smiled, "This could be our secret spot." They slowly walked towards the edge of the mountain cliff but were immediately stopped by Tommy. 

"Oh, [Y/N] wait. Be careful, the edge of the cliff looks really faulty." Tommy warned. 

[Y/N] immediately stepped back a little and took note of what Tommy said. But, they were still curious and looked down at the edge of the cliff, only to see the water from below. 

If someone would fall from this cliff and took a heavy impact on the water, that person wouldn't survive due to how high the mountain cliff is. 

[Y/N] then proposed, "You know, when things are stressful and stuff. We can just go here, sit in silence and look at the view as the wind or the waves takes away our problems for a while." 

"Just the two of us." The blonde haired lad said and then they both stood in silence, admiring the view and beauty of the server. 

Oh, if only you could turn back in time and relive this memory. If only things are still the same the way it was before. 

It's been so long since [Y/N] had fun and peace. Probably so many months since Tommy first showed them their secret mountain hangout area. 

[Y/N] currently stood still, gazing at the view that was once calm and peaceful but was now replaced with sounds of flying TNTs, fireworks and screams from the background.

They were in no state of mind as of the moment. They don't even know what to do anymore. A lot has changed ever since the wars, the exilation of Tommy. 

[Y/N] sniffed, wiping their tears using their now mangy sleeves caused by the current chaotic event. They continued to stare at the ocean, a potion of poison glistening in their hands. 

[Y/N] looked at the Potion of Poison that they were holding and pondered whether to drink it or not. 

Maybe it's best to end it once and for all. They don't have anywhere to go anyways. They don't have any friends or family to turn back to since everyone is against them or thought badly of them now. 

[Y/N] can't even go back to L’manberg as well since they're now a wanted criminal for breaking the laws and escaping from their house since they're supposed to be on house arrest for the crimes they didn't even do. 

They opened the cork of the potion, but they didn't drink it yet. They let their mind wander for a while and process everything that has happened. 

Maybe Dream was right. Maybe the people they loved never even cared for them at all. Maybe it was all just a lie. Maybe—

"[Y/N]." A familiar voice that they haven't heard in a while. 

It was windy. The cool breeze of air touched their skins. But along with the wind, there are particles of TNT or fireworks dusts. 

The [H/C] haired person turned around and saw their best friend for the first time in months. 

"Tommy." [Y/N] replied. Their voice were hoarse and dry. "What are you- What are you doing here?" 

"I could ask you the same thing." Tommy glared at them.

[Y/N] quietly groaned, closed their eyes for a while and pinched their nose bridge, still holding the potion on their other hand. "So, you believe all that shit?"

"Enough for me to believe the fact you tried to murder Tubbo, burn my invites and team up with Dream." 

Tommy added, "Maybe they were right about you. You're Dream's sibling after all." 

[Y/N] scoffed and threw their available hand around the air, "He may be my sibling, but we are never alike." 

"Why, [Y/N]? Why did you do it?" Tommy asked, hands gripping tighter on his sword. "Did Dream finally get into your head for you to commit these crimes? Or did you just do it because it's in your blood?" 

"You don't know a thing that happened," [Y/N] harshly spit back, completely trying to avoid the topic of Dream. "Of course you don't. You were exiled."

Tommy never understood why. Why had they turned like this? He felt rage and betrayal. During his exiled time, Tommy thought that they were gonna be that one person who would try to find him. Comfort him or even send him secret coded messages. But no, he received nothing. 

It hurts. Hurts like hell to know your best friend turned their back on everyone. A best friend that he has known for years. A part of him wants to believe they didn't do it but the proofs are enough for him to believe it was really them. 

"Well, you really can't blame me can you? You can only blame yourself," [Y/N] said. "This all started because of you and your stupid discs. All you ever care about is the FUCKING DISCS. Wars started, lives were lost, relationships were destroyed, all just because of those discs." 

They had never done this before. This was their first time just being angry and shouting at each other. Although this might be new to each other, it was obvious that they have been bottling up their emotions way too long. 

"You know what?! Things would be so much better if only you didn't exist." Tommy instantly regretted what he said as soon as he saw a potion glisten from [Y/N]'s hands. 

He may not be an expert but he knew well enough of the potions due to him hanging out too much with them before. "What are you doing?" Tommy immediately asked. "Is that a potion of poison?" 

"Nothing for you to care about." [Y/N] turned back towards the cliff and stared at the view once again. 

"Just the two of us again here, huh?" They said as they pulled the potion towards their mouth, just inches away from the lips now until Tommy hurriedly ran towards [Y/N] and tackled them. 

"What are you, an idiot?!" Tommy scolded as they both fought each other while trying not to fall from the cliff. He tried to pull the potion of poison away but it was hard since they kept gripping on it. 

It wasn't until Tommy was finally able to remove the potion from [Y/N]'s grasps. He threw the potion far away as it got smashed on the ground. 

The two of them were too busy fighting over the potion to notice that one of them is now standing on the faulty edge of the cliff. 

[Y/N] was on the edge of the cliff and accidentally backed away from Tommy, thinking there was still space. A loud shriek came out of their mouth.

Tommy immediately ran towards the edge, scrambled on his feet and looked down. Luckily, [Y/N] was able to hold onto the edge but their hands are shaky and tired from all the things that just happened. 

"I got you, I got you." Tommy frantically muttered, his breath increasing as to not knowing what will happen next. 

[Y/N] grip is slowly failing. Once their hands slipped, Tommy instantly grabbed their hands and tried to pull them back up. But, he too was tired from everything that has been happening. 

He tried to pull them up again but it was no use. Stress was adding up even more the moment they both felt the edge of the cliff shaking once more. 

Tommy can't do it anymore. So, he let out all the tears he's been trying to fight back. 

"It's gonna be okay, Tommy. Let me go." 

The blonde haired teen's eyes widened at [Y/N]'s statement. He can't do it. He can't bear to lose another loved one in his life. 

"I can't lose you too, [N/N]." Tommy croaked. 

The two might've fought just minutes ago but this is now a life and death situation. Problems and angst aside, they still care for each other. 

"You already did." Tommy's eyes widened in confusion and sadness. [Y/N] forced their hand to slip from his as Tommy tried to tighten it even more. [Y/N] had a few energies remaining, so they used it to push themselves off the cliff with their foot, making Tommy let go. 

For Tommy, everything is going so fast that his mind almost stopped working. 

But everything was in slow motion for [Y/N]. The fresh wind was so refreshing, almost making them forget what is currently happening to them. 

They closed their eyes, not wanting to see anymore reactions from Tommy. This is their end. This was meant to be. 

The moment [Y/N] chose to fall out from Tommy's grip, the blonde panicked and set aside all items he had with him. Without thinking properly, he lunged himself off the cliff. The only goal he had in mind was to save [Y/N] before it's too late. 

But he was, indeed, late. 

Everyone's communicator beeped. They all took at least some time to look at what the message could be on the communicator. As soon as everyone read the 2 words, their jaws dropped. 

[Y/N] drowned. 

[cassieb1617]

A snake in disguise💌

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!Gryffindor!reader

Angst/comfort

Summary: you and Fred broke up when he left Hogwarts and something happened between you and Draco, but love always finds its way.

Angst/comfort

Warnings: swear words, name calling, mentions of sex but no actual smut, out if character Ginny, let me know if you see more

A/N: Requested by @lovenonymously I hope you like it, I changed a few things. I’m sorry that it took so long

It was something she terribly regretted. Fred and (Y/n) broke up just before Fred and George left the school, it was understandably why and both made the decision together as they wouldn’t see each other for awhile. For weeks after she grieved upon it, yes, she was okay with it but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt.

When Umbridge has finally gone to god knows where, every house celebrated. Theo and Draco invited the Gryffindor to the Slytherin party in their common room, and to be honest drinking was something she would enjoy after the terrible year she just had. The golden trio wasn’t very fond of her friendship with the slytherins but what could they do? They weren’t her father.

The music was loud when she arrived in the Slytherin common room. Cups of drinks - empty and full ones - were found everywhere and in some corners you could see horny teenagers practically sucking their faces off. (Y/n) was immediatly found by the Slytherin trio - Blaise, Theo and Draco - and greeted with a drink at the entrance. “How are you?” It was Blaise who asked that. She just nodded, meaning it as on okay. He understood.

“Come drink with me!” A drunk Theo shouted at the girl that was standing in front of him and dragged her with him, one hand of her in his and with an drink that was definitely not water in his other hand the journey began.

After many drinks later Blaise decided for Theo to leave the party before something terrible happened. It was a good choice considering about thirty minutes Blaise came back in new clothes because, apparently, Theo decided to empty his stomach on him. It wasn’t nice to hear that. By now, a certain redheaded girl was at the party and staring at the (y/h/c)-haired who was dancing to a certain platinum blonde boy.

She was fuming, how dare you leaving Fred and then just dancing so close to ‘that Malfoy git’ while he was probably working and heartbroken. Fred and (Y/n) have decided that it was for the best if they just keep the details to themselves and say they broke up, though, it seems Ginny doesn’t know that the break-up has gone both ways. You can’t blame her, she was always protective of her family.

The last snap was when Draco and you had decided to go up to his room. Unbeknownst to Ginny, it was because while you danced, someone has spilled their drink on you and you had to change, draco saying he would give you one of his shirts to pull over which you agreed on. She followed you both up the stairs to Draco’s prefect bedroom and what she saw made her fuming even more.

You were laughing together and when you stumbled he caught you. All of a sudden you were kissing, neither knowing who began but you felt terrible so you stopped. But Ginny has seen enough and left before she could hear you saying, “Draco we can’t - I can’t-“ while Draco was rumbling, “Oh my god- I’m sorry - I shouldn’t-“

You both stopped talking and it was awkward for a while. Draco was the one who broke the uncomfortable silence, “I’m sorry I didn’t know why I kissed you.”

“We drunk, Draco, and we both don’t have partners. We shouldn’t talk about it and leave it. I mean it didn’t mean anything, right?” He looked relieved at your respond and gave you a small nod and soft smile.

After that the party ended pretty quickly and (Y/n) stumbled tipsy in her common room, only to find the golden trio and Ginny sitting on a couch glaring at her.

“What’s going on?” The (y/e/c)-eyed asked slowly, noticing the glares she received. “Really? Malfoy out of all people (y/n)?” Hermione asked, disbelieving what Ginny just told them. “What do you mean ‘Malfoy’? What’s going on?” You tried again.

“What’s going on? I tell you what’s going on. I saw you and Malfoy snogging in his room and you guys probably fucked too. I didn’t know that you were such a whore, leaving Fred and breaking his heart to snog other people!” Ginny shouted. “I - What? We didn’t ‘snog’ it was a kiss that we both regretted and we didn’t fuck either. Besides you don’t know why Fred and I broke up so why are you even having a word at this?” This time it was you who had a tone of disbelief in her voice.

“Come on Ron, I don’t want to be in the same room as her anymore.” And with that Ginny and Ron left, but not without giving you a dirty look. “So it’s true? You and Malfoy kissed?” Harry asked. He wasn’t angry, he just didn’t understand why you would kiss him. “Yes. Someone’s drink has been spilled on me while we danced and Draco said I could have one of his shirts to dress into, we were going up to his room to get it when it happened but I swear to you that I didn’t want it and neither did he. It was just out of the moment and we both laughed about it later I swear, Harry, Hermione!” You defended yourself. “You don’t have to defend yourself (y/n/n), we just wanted to make sure you weren’t a thing now.” And with that the rest of the trio left the common room as well and you decided to go to your dorm too.

The school year continued like this. Ginny, whenever she saw you, called you out by names, sometimes even saying that you were ‘a snake in disguise’ , Ron ignoring you and Hermione and Harry being friendly but distant. In the meantime you got closer with Seamus, Dean and Neville, three absolute sweethearts. In summer, the order meetings were awkward to say the least. The only ones from the Weasley family that were talking to you were Bill, Charlie and sometimes George. He knew why you both broke up and he also knew about the kiss, Fred was ignoring your whole presence.

After Bill’s wedding you got into hiding, you were paired with the twins. It was uncomfortable to be honest. Fred and you couldn’t talk to each other and George had to suffer through the awkward moments.

Currently Fred and you were alone at the breakfast table after George finally had enough and told you two, loudly may I add, to ‘suck it up and talk it out like two adults before he’ll kick your arses.’

“Fred I -“ “I’m sorry - “ you both stumbled over your words. “You go first.” You concluded. “I’m sorry for breaking up with you but I’m happy for you both. You and Malfoy I mean.” He said, swalloing harshly. “I’m - wait what? Malfoy and I? What do you mean?” You asked. “Ginny told me you two were a thing now and eh I wanted to tell you that I want you to be happy.”

You laughed upon hearing that. “I’m sorry but what did she tell you? Draco and I are just friends, although our parents wanted us to marry when we were little and had tea parties. Do you really believe that I would stay here and hide if I could just go to Malfoy manor and stay there with Draco?” You were still giggling. “What? You aren’t together? Ginny told me you two kissed and - ohh yeah okay I get it. I’m sorry.” He apologised.

“Stop apologising Freddie, you didn’t do anything. I’m sorry as well that you think that.” You scolded him, not noticing that you used the nickname. It was quiet for a while before fred murmured something. “Sorry?”

“I said I’m still in love with you. I tried moving on but I always tried to find you in others and gave up. George told me I was a lovesick fool and maybe I am but I wanted you to know.” He saud softly. “Oh Fred you don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I - I still love you too, I thought you hate me because you were ignoring me and so did almost everyone else and thought of me the same way Ginny does.” You confessed.

“What do you mean ‘think the same way Ginny does’? What happened?” Fred was suddenly so serious. “Oh nothing, she just didn’t like it very much that Draco and I had a moment. Which we, by the way, both regret. She told me I was a whore and well, I just assumed that’s what you think too.” You avoided eye contact. It seemed like Fred didn’t know. “She did what? I didn’t even know that she knows that word. I’m sorry for Ginny. You’re not a whore and you were single after all. You can do whatever you do.” He had a soft tone in his voice.

“It’s okay, Fred, really. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You repeated your words. “You know, now that we know what happened and all, I think, if that’s okay with you, why don’t we start over? Slowly, I mean.” Fred was shy. Never in a million times have you thought that you would see Fred this shy. “I’d like that, Freddie.” You agreed, smiling softly.

“FUCKING FINALLY!” George screamed coming from the other room. “I’ve waited so long, guys, you don’t have an idea.” He cheered.

[yaomomvs]

TAKE OUR HAND

seijoh x manager!reader

in which aoba johsai vbc just wants you to take their hand, just as the many times they have reached for yours when they needed it

pls i’m sorry i just wrote this for comfort, in having a terrible week and so, i just really need my seijoh boys to comfort me even if it’s just in my head and just so you know, and as i’ve been trying to convince myself, things always get better

tuesday, [15:56 pm]

“nice kill yahaba senpai!” kindaichi congratulates his upperclassman.

his voice makes you react, it scared you. still holding your pen and the notebook you always carry around even on normal practice days, your hand threatens you in the most scary way possible.

fuck no, just... breathe.

you are quick to leave aside the notes, and so, you look around to the boys, who just after the coach’s whistle sounds they are quick to approach your spot.

you take the water bottles as quickly as you can.

“oh y/n-san, i know we are irresistible but you can’t just slack off admiring us!” makki teases you laughing.

“if our dear manager is admiring someone is obviously me” oikawa says, before taking a sip of his bottle, slightly making you blush even more.

“i don’t think she likes idiots who still watch youtube conspiracy videos at 3am”

“iwa!”

“weren’t you the one with a secret obsession for romance manga, iwaizumi?” it’s mattsun time to expose his friend. iwai mi doesn’t hesitate and he runs directly to matsukawa, while kunimi brings out his phone to start recording the chaos in the gym.

you don’t listen.

your head hurts, and then, you once again feel this weird thing in you stomach. you have been feeling like this for the past week, and you try to ignore it . but sometimes, you just want the world to stop.

you can’-

“y/n senpai?” watari calls your name, and you notice his furrowed brows looking at you, worried. you blink and correct your posture. you had just zooned out. “is everything ok?”

“ah yes watari kun!” you force your self to sound relaxed because you feel the sudden gaze of the entire team “i was just thinking in a smart way to insult oikawa, but i’m worried he won’t understand tho”

“hey! you said i was your favorite”

you fake laugh once again assuring everyone that you were just fine. the day goes on, and somehow is becomes more difficult to just stay down not worrying about anything.

and they notice.

you don’t walk home with the guys today. instead you run to the bus not before excusing yourself with an ‘urgent family thing’

“just please don’t let makki eat so much ramen today!” you giggle as you run to the bus “i’m not in the mood to dealing with diarrea!”

“that was a secret between us darling!” the pink haired guy screams cheeks blushing.

and maybe you were just too distracted, but before you face them away some of them notice how quick your smile fades.

“you know guys” yahaba is quick to say “call me crazy but, why did she lie?”

—

wednesday, [10:22 am]

when was the last time you actually enjoyed school? not practice, but school itself. seeing numbers everyday in the board that you don’t understand is frustrating. your throat hurts, there’s has been a not there since the begging of the day.

swallow it, y/n, dammit

you decided to take this class, don’t blame the world, blame yourself. isn’t it supposed to be simple? why isn’t it being simple? is that... 

"Square root of 57 is equal to Xo, miss" 

"alright!" 

it is not like it’s a race, you want to say. why was the teacher obsessed with speed?, it’s unfair. your time is not the same as that of others. 

you drop the pencil and you recline in your chair, why couldn’t you do operations and analysis as fast as they could? you take a look around and the eyes of others look frightening. you see ambition, you see security, you see admiration.

the bell rings and you just want to run, and well in a way you end up doing it. leaving your homeroom, you tell your friends that for today you want to be alone, the halls of aoba johsai are big, for your fortune or misfortune. you go to the vending machine and when your drink falls, the minimum noise makes you startle, lately it’s like that, small noises or actions affect you way too much.

and iwaizumi notices it.

you don’t make a single move, it’s just the cold drink resting on your hands. and before iwaizumi could stop mattsun, he was already putting his hand on your shoulder.

“y/n!”

the orange juice spills and once again fear takes hold of you.

you see them both, you’re not stupid and you know hajime stares at you weirdly, and now mattsun, you hide your fear it a bit worse than yesterday, but you do anyways.

"someday, Matsukawa-san, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME! and what will you do without me?" you try to say cheerful, wanting to take away the suspicion, for a moment it works.

"flunk history, that leads me to..." 

"no, sweeheart, i won’t give you my homework" 

you walk and both guys follow you, one faster than another, very naive of the situation. "I begin to believe you hate me," says Mattsun, as the three sit on a bench near the school cafeteria casually encountering kunimi who quickly joins you, patting the folds of your skirt as you sit down, you rest on the table and admire his needy expression and as the tantrum of mattsun grows.

minutes go by, your chest pain grows, but somehow you know how to let it go.

 with your hands supporting your face, lunch passes between you and kunimi, you try to talk, you really try. 

but still, your eyes just glow, and kunimi notices how it’s not the glow you always have.

—

thursday [12:03]

your head is spinning, you can feel the cold sweat. will this be the time? why do you feel so small? why can’t you say it?

it’s familiar, you recognize this feeling, an ocean, you’re floating, you know you can swim, but, you’re in the middle of nowhere, you look down. Out of nowhere the intimidating depth of the ocean is beneath you. And then, you sink. You feel like you’re drowning, you feel like you’re fighting the tide, but you just can’t do it.

i just need...

no, it’s not time yet, it’s still training. the boys... you’re the one who should take care of them, you’re the one who has to be be fine. they had no time to lose, they had a goal and for the moment that was the most important thing.

On that bench, your gaze is absent, you know it is so.

and through the window that overlooks your classroom, oikawa notices it too

“y/n...” he mumbled.

of course he’d noticed. at first it was not so clear, but now he remembers.

when kindaichi pinned your dark circles to him, while admiring you by fitting volleyballs in a way not of your own.

makki watches oikawa from your side, you don’t even know the pink-haired guy is there, unaware that he’s sitting next to you. but he notices. he’s been noticing for days that your eyes are threatening to close in the middle of class.

hanamaki catches your attention and instantly that mask you’ve been wearing for weeks appears again.

"hanamaki, i’m fine"

it doesn’t convince them. they both look out the window and nod.

oikawa notices, and god, he wished he had no reason to.

—

friday [14:00 pm]

breathe.

please just... breathe.

you’re fed up. the feeling of guilt and discomfort is still there, can’t you be calm? people don’t need to know, but why do you want to shout it?

the dressing room is alone, the girls from the soccer team are out and it’s your only chance.

the team needs you, hold on a little.

your footsteps are heard in the hallway once again, a symphony you’re tired of listening to.

your chest hurts, your heart is aching, but you just need a little more. hands are shaking, the cold in your body, you need to stop.

you have to make them stop.

but when you walk into the gym, even with your eyes down, all you feel is warm. and it’s because, the boys were standing, aligned begging for you.

no, they beg for your sake.

and everything stops.

one hand from him on your neck, and one hand around your shoulders.

because oikawa, without warning, now has you in his arms.

and then, only then, you break.

tears don’t take long to come out, along with desperate sobs. your legs fail and out of nowhere, you and oikawa are on your knees.

with an alarmed look, the whole club runs towards both, surrounding you as sensibly as possible.

"i’m sorry, i’m sorry I’M SORRY" is heard from you, between hiccups.

“love, listen...” iwaizumi approaches you,somehow he managed to catch up with you, somehow he managed to hold your hand.

"i promise i didn’t want to, but i can’t, i can’t anymore, why can’t i? i try and i try and i keep trying but it’s never enough! IM TIRED OF SEEING SOMETHING AND NOT BEING ABLE TO PROCESS IT LIKE THE OTHERS. I’M TIREDD OF NEVER FULFILLING WHAT I SHOULD”

yahaba’s heart aches, and just as most of the team, is shocked.

your hands, oh your adorable hands, those hands that bandage his in the middle of an important game, he sees them shaking horribly between iwaizumi’s.

“AND I’M SCARED, WHAT IF I LOSE YOU BECAUSE OF THAT BECAUSE OF ME? BECAUSE OF HOW I AM I-“

watari is quick to place your hair gently behind your ear, a kunimi covers you with his jacket.

“I LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND I DONT RECOGNIZE MYSELF” you lower your voice, its cracked now “oikawa I don’t recognize myself, I want to be me again" you whisper, and a knot appears in the captain’s throat, and he puts a hand on your cheek "please... just let me be me again" your throat burns, your eyes get redder.

the gym goes silent, your words still echoing in everyone’s head.

“why didn’t you-“

“i just couldn’t” you blame yourself cutting oikawa off “look at us! we are waisting time on me when we should be- i’m the one who has to- im you support not-“

“hey hey, love...” iwaizumi whispers his voice is filled with sweetness, letting you sit correctly and softly rubbing his thumb in your hands “how many times have you been there for us? y/n your hand is always there”

“that’s true” kyotani says, finally saying something, emotions overwhelmed him a lot, but he genuinely wanted to help you.

“there’s something about you, there’s light” kindaichi follows up.

“no matter where, or how bad we are, somehow you always are helping us stand up” mattsun also tries to carefully approach you, he wants nothing more for you to feel safe.

and oikawa’s arms were still around you. he never stopped.

“we have reached your hand so many times, so now it’s time for you to please take ours” oikawa holds you face, and you see the sincerity and kindness behind his brown eyes, it feels like home.

mattsun does a sign asking the coach for a day off, both of them smile tenderly at you and give the green flag. iwa and makki are next to hold you carefully helping you stand up. they help you stop shaking but it’s mad dog the one who wipes your tears away with a tissue watari handled him. still not knowing if he did it the right way. you still feel kunimi’s scent. you still see kindaichi holding your school bag making sure nothing is missing. yahaba is the one bringing you water. and oikawa still refuses to let you go.

all of them feel like home.

“thank you”

and that’s how you know everything is going to feel fine.

because this club was yours and you were theirs.

this was home.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 "𝚘𝚑"

PART 8: CAT BOYS 

... it’s late into the night and y/n is streaming with one of her new friends, sykkuno. running on caffeine and redbull is apparently not enough because she falls asleep on his shoulder 45 minutes into their cyberpunk gameplay. at that exact moment, twitter goes up in flames.

─── corpse husband x reader, sykkuno x reader (because i was threatened by thirsty anons) ─── soc. media + written fiction!  ─── word count: 1.8k author’s note: here it is...what yall been asking for. literally had to add a new part for this but i loved this idea sm i couldnt just nOT NOT do it. i tried writing this with the same energy as the smau lmao so expect chaos as always. hope you enjoy it and as always lmk what u think! hopefully yall wont go too feral, but tbh thats prolly too much to ask for xx EDIT: srr for the fucky format tumbler dot com is being lame 

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.   ҉   next.

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Such a back and forth continues for the better part of the day as you get ready. Corpse only whines a bit when you forget to text him back - you are packing, and your prestigious cat ears you bought from Amazon for 10$ deserve exquisite care - which only fuels your seemingly bottomless hunger for mischief, leading to you sneakily ignoring him more. When your phone lights up with a message, you giggle, giddy with excitement. Your laughter only gets louder and more erratic, to the point where Rae had busted down your door and threw her Hello Kitty plush at you - one you’d gotten her, mind you! - and told you to just “Shut the fuck up!”

Ungrateful. You know not everyone can appreciate your sense of humor, or stand your hyena like cackle, but that was uncalled for and you told her as much. Noting the mess your room is in (more than usual, that’s for certain), she leans onto the door frame, crossing her arms over her chest, pretty brown eyes twinkling curiously, “Where you off to?”

“So I had this idea-” You start, but are promptly shut down with a raise of her palm.

“Already know it’s a bad one.”

Insulted, and hurt, you clutch your heart. As if she had not mocked you enough today, “Rae...The hell, that’s so mean...” You mutter, face scrunching into a soft frown, “I only wanted to tell you what me and Syk thought of.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, she raises a brow, “Continue.”

“Gee, thanks for letting me this time.” You mumble, rolling your eyes, “So. We thought we’d stream together. The catch? In the same room! We’ll be playing Cyberpunk. Gotta cash in while the hype is still up.” You add, making her snort, “And, ya know, the whole cat boy business...We’ll be wearing matching cat ears. Admit it, I’m a genius.”

She’s quiet for a moment, mulling over your words; you can practically see the gears in her head turning. She glances around the room, then briefly at you, strangely apprehensive. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Well, that is definitely not what you expected her to say. You figured it’d be more along the lines of you’d be one ugly cat. “Huh?” Is all you manage to stutter, “What do you mean?”

She gives you a look, one all people give when something is so plainly obvious, “Y/n. You do know the stans will go wild, right? And you do remember our conversation involving Corp-”

“Nope!” You exclaim cheerily with a bright smile to match. You don’t want to think about that. The relationship between you and Corpse is strictly platonic, and besides, seeing Twitter loosing their shit is always funny, and you never miss an opportunity to mess with your fans. Sykkuno is also a good friend, albeit a new one. This supposed flirting from Corpse’s end Rae deduced was nothing more than her projecting her feelings onto the situation. She always liked shoujo anime and was probably thinking one was happening right in front of her. Not a chance. Corpse was just being a friendly crackhead. Your energies mesh beautifully.

Like, beautifully in a strictly friend way. Absolutely nothing more than that.

She gives up, naturally, arguing with a wall would be more productive than arguing with you. You’re such a (Zodiac sign).

“Well,” She mumbles, ticking her head to the side, leaning off of the door frame and turning to leave, “Don’t say I didn’t tell you so.”

Your grin melts as soon as she leaves. Glancing at your bag, you shove your last necessities in with newfound hesitance. 

Nothing bad will happen, right?

...Right?

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It is well past the generally set “appropriate” time to hang out, but since quarantine, what is appropriate anymore anyway? You’ve never been in Sykkuno’s apartment, but now that you’re here it’s...strangely him. Every corner seems tailored to his specific requirements. It’s cozy, and pleasantly warm - it’s a bit chilly in LA, as surprising as that is.

He’s even shyer than you remember him being. And a whole lot more awkward, but in an endearing way, a way that makes you want to laugh and try to reassure him that it’s just you and he has nothing to worry about. While you hung out only once, the history you share is rich and tender. From him following you on Twitter and subsequently prematurely ending your stream, to kidnapping a stray cat affectionately named Juan. His long lost brother, Juan (no the Second, just Juan), lives in your Minecraft server. 

His stream room is sadly bare. There’s an appalling lack of merch or fairy lights. Not even led-lights. It’s a good thing you brought your own. As you try to decided which color would be best - his signature lime green, reminiscent of his adorable Among Us astronaut, or, perhaps, mischievous violet? - he boots the game and tweets out a quick “streaming with y/n in ten mins! come one come all!” 

“You should probably tell your fans, too.” He mumbles, looking somewhere above your shoulder. You settle with cherry blossom pink. Glancing at him, you shrug.

“Ah, do it for me, please?”

“Oh!” He hiccups, “Uhm, I wouldn’t want to pry and I don’t know your password and-”

“It doesn’t have a password.” You had removed it, knowing something like this would happen. Bless your foresight, you did not want him to know it was demonspiitinmymouth. Before he could protest further, you rush to the nearest mirror to put on your cat ears and make sure they aren’t crooked. You look absolutely adorable. The cat boys in your dms will go feral. Hell, you might just go feral looking at yourself! Sykkuno is not ready. No one is. This will be a stream to remember.

When you return (with flourish of course), he’s anxiously fidgeting by his computer, his own little cat ears, one’s he wore for the Halloween stream, peaking out from his silky brown hair. You have to suppress a squeal. When he catches you gaze he gives the kindest, sweetest little smile.

“They, uh--” He points at you, then decides it’s rude to point, bringing his hand back to his lap, then clutching his mouse, lastly releasing a sound stuck between a chuckle and a wheeze, “suit you, uhm, a lot!” He finishes with a resolute nod, quickly spinning in his chair and away from you.

This is the reaction you desired. All is going according to plan. Is this what God feels like? If not, then you pity her. She’s missing out.

Taking a seat next to him - he had been gracious enough to haul you a spare chair from the kitchen - you draw closer, and he, instinctively, shrinks away with another nervous chuckle. 

“You have, uhm... I-I didn’t look!” He quickly chimes. You raise a brow, “Uhm, unopened messages? From Corpse? He texted you when I was tweeting! I didn’t mean to look, I’m sorry-”

Instantly, you recall the famous vine with the scandalous “daddy chill” line, though refrain from saying it aloud. You love havoc, but you’re not evil (Rae would ardently disagree with you, though). Instead, you just shrug, “’S fine, don’t worry. I’ll text him back later. Let’s start?”

He nods, but doesn’t look at you. Granted, you don’t think he glanced at you even once since you returned, “...Okay. Ready?”

“Ready!”

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You’re much too immersed into the game and Sykkuno’s twitch chat to even check what’s happening on Twitter, but your estimated guess is that everyone’s going crazy. The stream chat is unruly as well, but missing the signature Twitter spark. Most of the chaos is bravely lead by your fans. Sykkuno’s, much like the man himself, are too nice to scream so unabashedly.

Perhaps you excitement had been a bit too taxing, perhaps drinking 5 coffees and 2 energy drinks today and not enough water are to blame for the sudden drowsiness you’re feeling, but you can’t focus on the swimming chat or the abundance of cut-scenes at the starting point of the game. You steadily draw nearer and he, more composed in front of his audience, doesn’t react. About ten more minutes of hoovering by his shoulder and muttering soft commentary, and you feel yourself slipping.

The last coherent thought you have is a few choice words directed at caffeine itself for having the opposite effect of you at the worst time possible.

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You float in oblivion for perhaps ten minutes at best. Once you awake with a startle, you shower Sykkuno in shy apologies and he quickly reassures you that it’s fine and that he didn’t mind at all!

“Though,” He adds after a thoughtful pause, “not sure if it was very, uh, comfortable?”

His stream chat spams uwu and variations of similar kind. The stream continues for a few more hours before the both of you wish everyone a good night. 

While you planned on wreaking absolute havoc, this sudden falling asleep was unexpected. You pondered the consequences of such an innocent, unplanned act whilst ubering home, fearing to check your phone which by now was blowing up with not only Twitter notifications but also Rae’s angry messages that vaguely read “what the fuck y/n”. Within the past two hours she had left 57 messages on all platforms collectively, including 7 calls. 

Corpse’s last text was over three hours ago.

Now that’s strange. Worry festers quickly. Briefly glancing at your surroundings - the pretty glimmer of passing street lights, neon signs, familiar buildings - you decide that it’s time to check what kind of nuclear explosion you’ve caused.

Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach as you scroll past the hundreds of tweets and mentions. Scan through Rae’s messages. 

You had failed to prepare ahead. Every explosion of such kind is followed by nuclear winter. And Corpse’s lack of messages feels especially cold.

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Not you smiling like a fucking idiot reading his last message! You shrink into the backseat, afraid the driver will accidentally look into the rear-view mirror and see you a bit too happy before asking questions. Good news? Yeah, but it’s not like it’s his any beeswax! In the words of Rihanna, just shut up and drive. 

This argument had not yet happened, but you’re preparing, just in case. 

As you think up of potential scenarios, your eyes drill into Corpse’s goodnight text. You’ve looked at it enough. Time to turn the phone screen off. Leave the app, at the very least. When the screen dims you instantly press on it to wake it up. This is embarrassing. Maybe the deadly amount of caffeine really did mess you up, big time. Your heart races in your chest, painfully almost. You feel a bit sick. Worst of all, you can’t stop smiling.

A notification from Rae makes you snap out of it. Ah, one more demon to deal with. 

However, before you talk to her, you really need to tell Twitter that you’re not with Sykkuno. And apologize to Sykkuno as well. 

At least Corpse doesn’t hate you.

Fucking hell, just exit the chat you idiot!

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙