#at least I didn't spend much time on this

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I'll try to be nice and polite about it because I really think you are coming from a good place: but the thing is you are just wrong.

At least based on my perspective as part of the Latam, all the factors you mentioned were struggles for you and others from the US to learn foreing languages happened here. The difference is that the average brazilian with no classes till maybe high school, the idea learning english is hard and boring and no incitive whastover still needs to know english to get okay-ish jobs, to study in certain academic fields, even to just deal with rude turists in some places. English is more and more becaming a skill that is unacessible but we still HAVE to get.

And this is by design. Is a way to keep us in our place, if we don't understand your language the oportunities created by the US egemony are closed to us and that makes less likely for people from Latin America, specially poor and native people, to get even remotedly close to an even playing field.

The problem isn't simply that you guys don't know our languages is that not knowing our languages means nothing. Doors aren't closed to you the same way they are to us. In that way the biggest problem is that we are forced to know yours.

In Brazil in theory we learn english starting at middle school. When I went to school it was starting when we were eleven. If you ever went to an english class in most public schools or even rural private schools you know that's not really how it works. We spend ten years on the "to be" verb. English was the grade people did because it was easy since we didn't actually had to do shit. The very marjority of people I know don't know english and all the ones I know that do did not learn it from school. But all of them feel like they have to.

In a more personal level I love english, I always loved languages and I would have loved to have learned english at school for fun.

But I learned english because my parents begged from relatives and took extra hours at work to give me some classes and the classes didn't even work as much as I noticed how hard it was for them and had to find ways to make it work for me. And my parents did all that because my cousin failed a bunch of job interviews for not knowing english. They did that because according to them "knowing english was becaming less a skill that helped someone in getting a great job and more a skill you needed to have to get most jobs." Neither of my parents speak english. But they did their best so me and my brother could (mostly via making me teach my brother cause they couldn't pay lessons for the both of us).

I had none of that to help me learn spanish nor italian nor any language I would love to learn for fun if I had the time.

I didn't learn english because it was fun. My brother hates languages. He still learned english after painfull horrible lessons that made me give up on my dreams of ever being a teacher.

The problems are way deeper than your shitty educacional system and it angers people like us because we had all the same problems and were forced to learn your language anyway only to see someone go "well we never had the chance" when neither did we. And I understand that not being incentivized to learn sucks, we didn't either, but the problem is way deeper. They don't want us to learn your language. They want us to have to but fail so that can be used as a justification to deny us oportunities. Is why imigrant characthers with broken english are still a joke on your media.

And this is what this post and this conversation is about. Not knowing other languages might be a result of bad education, might even be by design. But not HAVING to DESPITE the lack of everything is a privilege. And this is the point.

I rarely bring this up because it feels like fairly silly and low-stakes compared to all the other effects of american imperialism, but one of the funniest things when Americans deny that living in the imperial core and the center of global cultural hegemony confers them any sort of privilege over people from the imperial periphery is that like. In order for this conversation where you tell me you have no privilege over me to even be able to take place one of us had to learn the other's language, and it wasn't you.

I think the fact that by default the onus of learning the other's language to enable communication is always put on the other side is a pretty significant privilege on the cultural front.

[gorgeys]

post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.

jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling.  memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.

if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her.  she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose.  she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck.  her heart melts just thinking about it.

she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash.  she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.

jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you.  a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head.  she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake.  she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.

jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you.  every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it.  when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks.  she's losing you.

jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail.  you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes.  when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.

jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.

"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face!  it was hilarious.  you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.

"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response.  "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause.  "well, i'm not.  at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on?  you better not." pause.  "she better not be prettier than me."

"i miss you.  so much."

jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public.  it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors.  now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have.  she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.

jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you.  it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration.  it's the only one she has with her.  she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.

one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it.  in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera.  she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.

although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone.  she feels a little less alone.

jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams.  it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again.  when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.

she ends up being the last up and first to bed.  the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️

jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores.  she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room.  she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.

jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is.  it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you.  nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you.  it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.

jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.

jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.

jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time.  for a second, she thinks she's dreaming.  she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all.  but, when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.

she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time.  she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder.  she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.

jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss.  she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.

she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra.  it's heaven on earth.

jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years.  she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep.  it's the best sleep she's ever had.

she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face.  she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.

i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭

[the-ace-with-spades]

(sorry this got longer than I thought)

You know what fic I'd love to read?

One where Carole dies but doesn't get anything in order before her death (as is many times the case) and Mav is installed as Bradley's temporary guardian after her death but everything goes wrong very fast

Due to Mav's less than heterosexuals tendencies, Bradley ends up in the foster system. One day a social worker with a police officer just shows up and takes him away from school and he doesn't know what's going on. He ends up in his first not so good foster family the same evening. Mav can't even visit as he is deemed a bad influence and has an ongoing investigation if he is 'fit' to be Bradley's guardian.

He doesn't stop asking about Mav for months. Keeps trying to run away to him (he's about 50 miles away because foster homes are sparse so no dice) and finally his foster 'mom' is fed up with the constant asks to at least try and call Mav so she tells him Mav didn't want him and doesn't want Bradley to contact him.

And because Bradley is twelve, he believes it.

(It's not that Mav didn't try. There was a whole appeal process but Mav had a deployment right after and he couldn't explain to the social workers that no, Bradley would stay with someone trusted while he was gone, because that someone was Ice, the source of his suspected homosexual tendencies. They literally told him he's not allowed to contact Bradley and once he came back from deployment, Bradley was already in a different foster home, a few counties over and lost in the system.)

Bradley spends the rest of his childhood in the system. His first family is dubious and the following ones are a mix of constant hope and disappointment. He has at least two different families foster him every year, until he is sixteen and ends up in a group home. There are only two families that he actually comes close to calling family - a young married couple that stops fostering when the wife is diagnosed with chronic autoimmune disorder, and a couple of teachers that have to drop one of the two kids they foster when the financial requirements to foster raise and decide that Bradley is going to be that kid.

No one ever even thinks about adopting him. He's got good grades and stays on top of school, but that's about what is going well in his life. Some families he's with are average - they let him be and maybe don't care as much for anything that involves him as long it doesn't stir trouble at the fostering agency and Bradley is healthy and safe. Some families are worse - sometimes he is one of the five kids and is expected to stay and be a live-in nanny, sometimes they're only doing it for the money and he has barely anything, barely any food, barely any attention, barely any clothes, barely any school supplies, just so he doesn't cost too much. Sometimes, things get physical - it happens less, the taller he gets and by the time he starts fighting back, he has enough reputation that no one believes it and no one wants to foster him anymore. And group home it is.

By the time he's seventeen, he's enlisted. Just so he leaves the system as fast as he can. It all works out because the Navy fits the bill for his university and NROTC when the time comes - even if he's told he's not a good candidate for the USNA, even if he was told his grades and his achievements should be more than enough, even if despite the circumstances, he managed to meet the same requirements.

Finding out that it was Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who protested his application and pulled the plug on it is Bradley's second heartbreak.

Bradley bites down any complaints he has about life and enters UVA at 21, with a military scholarship and NROTC bursary. At that point, he doesn't even know if he still wants to go into aviation, it brings so much bitterness in him. But then his grades and his overall achievement are so good, everyone says it'd be a waste if he didn't go to one of the most competitive pipelines. The Navy pays for his private pilot licence when he hesitates, and sure enough, it does feel good.

The pipeline is where he meets Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who has two brothers and two sisters and who has jars of homemade jam and chocolate-covered plums sent in a little package from his mom at least once a month. Jake Seresin, who uses all his leave to attend weddings, holiday parties, birthday parties, even a dog's funeral. Jake Seresin, who comes from every Thanksgiving with spare pumpkin pie, who has a new handmade Christmas sweater every year.

Jake Seresin, who, for some reason not known to Bradley, is impressed with how effortless learning to fly is for Bradley, with how much Bradley knows, with how much he leads in the lectures and the flight lessons - most guys find Bradley annoying and cold and Bradley would've agreed with them if any said it to his face. The Navy is the only good thing Bradley's had since his mom died, he has much more time to focus on being good at whatever Navy throws at him and maybe that makes him strange and aloof. But not Jake.

Jake Seresin, who is a competitive asshole that can't shut his mouth for his own good. Who has no idea of personal space, who fills the silence better than a jukebox, who will drill and drill the topic until he gets an answer he can comprehend, who doesn't care what people think of him as long as he knows his worth.

Bradley might have a bit of a crush on him, but it's an annoying crush kind of crush - one he doesn't really want to have, one he doesn't really know what to do with. Jake Seresin, who probably would never look at Bradley twice, especially in that way.

They get separate F-18 training bases and Bradley forgets for a moment Jake Seresin ever existed.

Then, summer of 2011, Jake Seresin gets restationed, right into Bradley's squadron. And he's still his annoying self, inserting himself into Bradley's private space, private time, and doesn't let Bradley have a say in it, at all.

Maybe Bradley doesn't want to have any say in it, deep down.

A few months later, DADT gets repealed. It doesn't change much for Bradley, he's not going to talk to anyone about his personal life. But it seems it changes something for Jake.

Because he asks Bradley out on a date.

Bradley's never really dated. Didn't really have the time to when he was a teenager, moved so many times, and then he enlisted, and then he was in college and NROTC. He slept with people, but he's never dated anyone.

So he gets to know Jake Seresin. Jake Seresin, who despite bringing all that food back with him any time he visits his parents, can't cook at all and who would hang onto Bradley's arm or shoulders whenever Bradley cooked. Who can sew so well that he saves all of Bradley's old shirts. Who can't keep his mouth shut, no matter the circumstances - not in the theatre, not when they eat, not when they just watch a movie at home, not even in bed. Who seems to know every single tune under the sun but can't play a single instrument. Who has elaborate, detailed plans for his life - an admiral by forty, two kids by thirty-five, a nice little house in driving distance to some body of water, a German shepherd or a border collie for a family dog once the house is there, a personal two or maybe four-person plane by the time he's forty-five, maybe co-owning aeroclub by fifty.

Bradley's never before thought about the future.

He never tells Jake even half of the things he's seen and lived through when he was in foster care, never tells him about his pulled application from USNA, never tells him about Mav. He doesn't think Jake would be able to understand, the way his family seems perfect and loving and caring. He doesn't want him to know how many things is wrong with him.

But Jake knows he's got no family, that his dad died in the Navy, his mom when he started middle school, that he's been in foster care for all his teenage years. Knows that Bradley has no one to come back home.

"Don't be a fool, sweetheart," is what Jake tells him. "You've got me."

For the first time in his life at the age of 29, Bradley requests Christmas leave.

Bradley's never had a big family, but there was a time he once had a family - or so he thought, when he was twelve and the illusion shattered - so he thought he'd be okay.

And at first, he is fine. Jake rotates him around like a prize piece, introducing him to his siblings, parents, aunts, uncles, nephews, cousins, grandparents, but it's just two or three people at once. Whenever it seems like too much, Bradley drifts away to the kitchen where he can just stay silent and listen to Jake's mom talk to the various people that come by while he slices homemade ham or he steps out onto the backyard and talks to the kids of all the ages gathered around the makeshift playground.

But then they're right before dinner starts - there are over thirty people in the open space of the house, now that everyone arrived, and Bradley feels hot, suffocating in the crowded space, in the clutter of gifts and food and colorful Christmas sweaters.

And then, before he can take any of it in, he hears Jake, saying in his typical loud and teasing tone, that Bradley can play the piano, and look at that, he could play something Christmas-y before the turkey is done, and next thing he knows, there's over thirty pairs of eyes on him and plenty of people asking questions and making teasing remarks and it all seems so tricky--

He can't imagine himself, in that room, with all those people, feeling comfortable. So he walks out.

Bradley doesn't know how to be a part of a family. There's no reason to try and lie to himself and everyone else.

They don't see each other for years after. The next time they do, it's only the eight weeks at Top Gun. The Jake that Bradley knew isn't there - this Jake is bitter and sarcastic and sharp with his tongue. This Jake wins Top Gun and never looks back at Bradley when he returns to his station base.

The next time they see each other is at the Top Gun recall when Bradley is going through a life roller coaster.

Not only is Jake being the biggest ass not just to him but to everyone, for the first time in twenty years, Bradley sees Mav. Sure, maybe he's not moved on from Jake - he still remains the only person Bradley ever dated - but he's managed to dodge Maverick, and Iceman by association, in all those years he's been in the Navy and now he's forced to pretend all is fine.

And Maverick doesn't make it easier.

He tries to approach Bradley like they're long-lost friends, saying all those things about how he missed him and how Bradley looks so much like his dad. Like he didn't leave him in the foster system when he was a kid and didn't fuck up his application for USNA.

So he pretends he doesn't remember Maverick because that's the easiest given that Maverick is supposed to train him.

On top of that, Jake mixes himself up into Bradley's shit life situation when he overhears Mav trying to get Bradley to 'remember' and 'renew their relationship' and keeps pestering Bradley. Maybe he can tell you more about your childhood, why the hell are you so rude to him, he wouldn't make up knowing you, you know, maybe he's got some of your parents' stuff and can share---

And hearing the love of his life that he let get away because Bradley didn't know how to be part of his family side with the first person that told Bradley he's not enough to be someone's family - well, it's not exactly helping the state of Bradley'e mental being.

So maybe he explodes at Jake, a little bit, in the end. You want to talk to the man who left me behind when I was twelve and the only time he looked back was to tell me he didn't think I was good enough? Then so be fucking it.

Instead of butting into Bradley's life, Jake shuts up and starts avoiding him. Bradley supposes he has what he wanted.

Bradley doesn't care what Maverick thinks or if he changed or if he wants something from Bradley.

He still turns around when he's shot down. It's not like he's got someone to come back to anyway. Not because he cares about Maverick.

"I'm not you," Bradley tells Mav. "I don't leave people behind."

The admittance - that he knows and remembers Mav and wants nothing to do with him, wants to be nothing like him - works. They survive and Bradley doesn't see Maverick again, not when they're in the med bay, not when they're in the hospital in San Diego, not when he gets discharged.

He sees Jake instead, waiting on him at the reception of the unit he had been on, patiently waiting for Bradley to sign his discharge papers without using his broken wrist.

"What, do you have someone else to take your broken ass home?"

In truth, Bradley was just going to take a taxi. Instead, Jake takes the plastic bag with Bradley's clothes and silently leads them to his truck before he asks for Bradley's address.

And in all this mess, the first thing Jake asks him is, "Are you going to stay in San Diego?" because they have the offer to stay there and make their place in Top Gun-adjacent brand new squadron.

"No, I'm going to go back to my base," Bradley tells him. There's nothing for him San Diego, but there's plenty for Jake and he doesn't want to be a barrier.

"I think you should stay in San Diego. With me."

He wishes it was that simple but the truth is, Bradley is still the same.

"I can't be the person you want to have in your life."

"But you already are the person I want in my life."

"I think this is going to end up badly."

"Only if you let it."

Bradley's never really could say no to Jake.

It all seems so easy, when he falls asleep on Jake's shoulder watching Top Gear, but at some point, Bradley knows, they will get to the point when it'll all crush again.

There is also the whole thing with Maverick, their now CO, who appears to be some kind of ashamed now that he finally knows that Bradley remembers what he did - or rather what he didn't do. He avoids Bradley like the plague and it seems to be affecting the squad - because they all love Maverick and Bradley is the weirdo who can't have fun or be friendly. He's just waiting on someone to call him out as the party pooper contrasting to their fun CO and deem the problem, as always, just because he can't pretend to be happy to be around him.

Jake hasn't said anything about the Maverick thing explicitly but he gives Bradley those looks whenever Maverick is nearby and sometimes he makes those quips

[janiehellion]

Revved Up

ONESHOT

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

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

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

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

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

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

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

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

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

And for you?

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

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

That's what led you to the garage.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It'll work."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gonna manage."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

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

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

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

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

"Ya done?"

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

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

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

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, understood. Show me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up and drive."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

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

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

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

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell was wrong with you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hands moved. Lower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell is wrong with me?

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

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

Fuck, stop it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why isn't he stopping me?

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

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

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

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

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

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

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

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

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Focus; you can do this.

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

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

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

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

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

Shit, shit, shit.

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

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

You had to swallow hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut the fuck up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God, they were.

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

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

But you didn't. Not once.

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

Indeed, it was pure fire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that was it. That was all it took.

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

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

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

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

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

"What the fuck are you—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, you didn't care.

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

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

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

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

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

That was all he needed.

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

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, he finally started to move.

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

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

Harder.

Deeper.

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

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

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

And you did. God, you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, of course, you were—kind of.

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

[espressoristretto-patronum]

[sorry already for the long post and broken English 🙃]

✨Best people of 2024✨

Thank you to the people who have thought of me, even considering me one of the best, you don't know how much I've appreciated your tags! (no, I'm not crying, no no).

I'm answering now because I was spending the holidays with my family and... I got a little overwhelmed by your tags, I didn't expect so many of them 😭

Let's start saying that this is the list of the best people of Tumblr: @everyone. Seriously everyone is so nice and talented and you guys have seriously saved my 2024. And all of your MCs are so dear to me!

But there are of course some people I want to thank personally, even if I believe I can't really express my deep gratitude.

@celestial--sapphic I thank you for a million things: for writing the best sapphic fanfictions (pure poetry, you're indeed my favourite writer!), for encouraging me to open this blog, for when I decided to start writing my fanfiction and you volunteered as beta-reader and seriously I couldn't ask for a better person! You are so patient and so supportive with my English and I thank you for the positive feedback I got on my work! Last but not least I thank you for that amazing drabble because TORI AND POPPY WRITTEN BY MY FAV WRITER? HELLO 112 YES HI I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK!  My heart melts every time I read it, because of course, I still read your works!

@superconductivebean my first follower ❤️ Thank you for all the tags on your beautiful drabbles! I enjoyed every single one! I'm not so into throuple but Poppy x Julia x Imelda is the amazing exception! You're headcanons are the best I want to marry your brain!

@infernalrusalka THE COOLEST! Talking to you is always a great pleasure! You were also one of my first followers and you was already so supportive! I'm forever grateful we met here on Tumblr ❤️

@myokk my spanish counterpart aka EL DIABLO for killing me a million times with your amazing arts and writing! I still can't believe that a person so talented and cool is talking to a little potato like me 😭 I keep looking at your work with heart eyes. I mean, Tori in my favourite artist's style?! Three times?! 😭 Answering your tag (I had a nice heart attack when I saw it 🥹): I had ALL reason to be supportive, you deserve every single kudos, reblog and positive comments in the world! Not only you are so talented (girl, is there anything you can't do?!), but you're also so nice and sweet and humble! It's always a pleasure talking to you, commenting your wonderful works! Thanks to you I've read To kill a mockingbird and now is literally one of my favourite book! But also, thank you for A little life, I still keep a good distance from that book lmao

@heyitszev and @theladyofshalott1989 the HL queer community is so glad and honored to have you, seriously! You make Tumblr a safer place for queers and I thank you so much for including me ❤️ also, before you I was quite adamant about not reading Sebastian x MC ff but you changed my mind! You're so talented and it's always a pleasure reading your works! Even if sometimes I'm so slow! 😅

Also, you both wrote Tori in your stories and really I'm not crying, I just have a hippogriff in my eyes 😭

@rypnami you! Come here and let me hug you! Before you Leander was just a side npc but now "it's Char's boy!", don't stop being creative and unique!

@gothic-lottie my Gothic Latte ❤️ you're a great artist and writer, your works are great! Keep doing because I love your stories and fanarts!

@traceyc-uk @dom1re @diana-bluewolf every time I see your works the kudos is automatic! I love your boys! And it's even better when I see them together when you collaborate!

@endeavour12345 you and Philip deserve a lot of hugs 🫂🫂 I love reading your works ❤️ thank you for the hugs you dropped in my comments when I felt sad!

A special thanks to the amazing HCU squad: @acslytherpuff @girl-named-matty @savingsallow (MY SWEETEST WIFE BEAN 😘) @ps-cactus @accio-bagel @ravenwind-75 @theladyofshalott1989 @leaping-toadstool-caps @freddiestheproblemchild

I've surely thanked you a thousand times for being the best, for being so supportive and what an honour for including Tori 😭

Only a few times in my life I received more love than I've given and for this I will forever thankful ❤️ I'm so happy I can call you friends and thank you again for being there when I needed it, thank you for making me laugh even when I'm down, thank you for everything 🫂

@midnight-faye  quanto è bello trovare un'altra italiana! Sono contenta che tu sia parte del fandom, adoro la storia di Erina! Immagina lei e Tori nella stessa stanza? UN CHIASSO!

@light-of-the-room @morrowlegacy @sparxyv @heylorrain @raenegade-accio @thursdaymoonrise11 few of my newest followers but your art have already my heart, and you of course, because you're so nice! Can't wait to see more!

@knightxflowers the author of one of my favourite Poppy x MC, and I'm still so super invested in your ff, can't wait to read more!

@mscostac I'm so so glad @ps_cactus has suggested your ff because only a talented person like you could write an amazing ff with Taylor's lyrics as references! And Tori and Poppy mentioned in the epilogue? WHAT AN HONOUR, I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

@lynnsartsworld hope you're doing okay during this break! I enjoyed the conversations we had 😁 Can't wait to see more April and Poppy!

@anomalyaly @saibugslegacy @shanaraharlyah @thriftstorebabayaga @a-usernamelol @honeybadgerdontcare394 @the-chaotic-scilla-aster @thingsmaygetalittlecrazy @pitter-patter-pottah @boxdstars @jam-the-silly @m3nta11yunstab13 @kiwiplaetzchen @lilac-ravenclaw maybe we didn't talk much, but I love seeing your stuff everytime I scroll Tumblr and your comments on my silly stuff! You're so talented and nice!

Last but definitely not the least a big thank you to @myokk @celestial--sapphic @girl-named-matty @a-florable @acslytherpuff @pheexblack @ladyofsappho @mscostac @rypnami @ravenwind-75 @savingsallow @leaping-toadstool-caps @accio-bagel @endeavour12345 for drawing/writing/taking photo of Tori, you can't believe how much I appreciate your works which are literally gifts, I'm really surrounded amazing and talented people 🥹 I still go back on your works because I love every one of them, I will never thank you enough for taking your time doing them for me!

Thank you all again ❤️ I love you and I wish 2025 is a year full of fulfilled dreams ❤️ you deserve all love!

[peachhcs]

I feel like Will could be a little shit sometimes, like we know he’s down badddd for Samy but I feel like sometimes when they haven’t seen each other for a while he’s determined to keep her close.

She’s trying to get up for the day? Lays his entire body on top of her, she’s trying to get dressed? Her clothes keep going missing, like he’s taking a sock and making her feel crazy because she knows she JUST sat them down.

He’s doing Anything he can to keep her at his side.

will is definitely doing everything he can to keep samy from leaving his side. he follows her around like a puppy honestly. samy likes to say he has separation anxiety sometimes

au masterlist

it was already 11 when samy finally woke up. she hadn't slept in that much in forever. she stretched out, but she didn't move that far because a strong pair of arm were wrapped securely around her torso. beside her was will still fast asleep, his face basically hidden in the crook of her neck. the girl smiled, reaching her hand up to tease some of his curls in her fingers.

she loved when he was always so close after not seeing one another in awhile. if he could, will would spend every second of the day by her side.

samy laid there for a few minutes just admiring her boyfriend's soft, sleepy features and playing with his hair. he didn't sleep with a shirt on last night, so she also got to admire his muscles peaking out of the covers. he was always fit, but his time with the sharks the last few months really worked in his favor. samy loved it.

she loved how he looked no matter what, but she really loved seeing his muscular arms in his t-shirts and built quads through his pants. it was literally every girl's dream.

after another few minutes, samy really needed to pee. she always had to when she woke up, but will's hold on her was pretty strong. she tried detaching his arms from her without waking him up. the blonde stirred and only pulled her closer to his body despite not waking up.

samy huffed. she poked will's cheek, "will, i really gotta pee."

he mumbled something incoherent.

"please, i have to pee so badly," the girl tried again and finally, will loosened his grip. samy took that as her chance and literally jumped out of bed to run to the bathroom.

when she came out will was still sprawled across the bed. the girl grinned and crawled back over to him where he finally poked his eye open.

"you left me," he grumbled.

"i had to pee. i'm sorry," samy laughed at his pout. he reached his arms out and made grabby hands as an indication that he wanted samy back in the bed. she got herself back in and will was quick to wrap his arms around her like before.

"did you sleep well?" the blonde wondered.

"i did. did you?" samy played with his curls again.

"i always sleep well with you," he hummed making her blush.

"what do you wanna do today?" the soccer player wondered and laughed when all will did was snuggle in closer.

"lay here with you all day."

"i wouldn't complain, but i feel like we should do something. it is like 11:15," samy said.

"so?" will didn't see what the problem was. he didn't have hockey for two days, so that meant he could use one of the days to do absolutely nothing. it was even better because samy was in town.

"we should at least eat something. i'm kind of hungry," just as the youngest hughes said that, her stomach rumbled.

"i know what you can eat," the hockey player earned a smack on the head for that comment.

"will."

"i'm kidding. i'm kidding," he lifted his head back up so samy could see the smirk on his lips.

"you're so immature," she rolled her eyes.

the brunette began pushing herself back up because she seriouly needed to eat something, but when she made a move to get up, will threw his entire body across her leaving her unable to get up or even move.

samy let out an oof, "hey!"

"you can't leave," will determined.

"i'm not leaving you this time. you can come with me to get food," the girl laughed.

“i don’t wanna leave the bed,” the hockey player mumbled. his weight was a bit crushing, but samy was used to it after being crushed and tackled by her older brothers growing up. she curled her arms around his back where she began drawing her fingers up and down his spine.

“you don’t wanna eat something?” the girl wondered and she was surprised to hear that will wasn’t already up looking for food.

“i’d rather lay in bed with you all day then go downstairs,” will said and samy couldn’t help but laugh. he was so adorable.

“okay, five more minutes but after that we need to eat something because i’m starving,” she compromised.

they laid there together with will’s crushing weight and he marveled in being so close to her. his favorite part of spending time with his girlfriend was being able to be so close to her and wake up to her at his side.

the five minutes passed way too quickly. the blonde reluctantly rolled off of samy so she could finally get up. he huffed and pushed himself off the bed as the girl found an actual shirt and pajama pants to put on. will threw on a random shirt on the floor and then snatched one of samy’s socks on the ground before she could find it. he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pressing little kisses to the side of her head.

“i wonder sometimes how you survive without me,” the brunette mumbled seeing the state of will’s very messy room.

“i don’t,” he said.

“remind me that we’re cleaning your room before i leave again,” the girl giggled and became confused when she couldn’t find her other sock she swore she threw onto the ground by the bed last night.

will watched in amusement knowing he had the sock. “where’s my sock?”

“what do you mean?” he played dumb.

“i swear i had both socks by the bed,” she bent down to check under the bed where she unfortunately found more miscellaneous things underneath.

“maybe they got mixed in with something?” the blonde hummed. samy stood back up and eyed her boyfriend. he had a really bad poker face when it came to her so she always saw right through him.

“will, did you take my other sock?”

“no.”

they stared at each other for a second before the youngest hughes lunged for his pockets. will yelped when she stuffed her hands in both front pockets and successfully found her missing sock. will pouted.

“that wasn’t fair,” he argued.

“you’re so weird. come on,” she tugged his hand and they started down the steps to the kitchen.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congratulations on the 100k likes!🩵 And happy new year!

Can I ask for 65 with Solomon?

Really love your writing, keep up!

Thank you so much!! ;//u//;

Solomon + 65 | "Rain" - Unprocessed

He shouldn't want this. He shouldn't want you.

For centuries, Solomon has led a rather solitary life. Being the most renowned sorcerer throughout history was a rather isolating existence, one that had garnered him a great level of notoriety in some circles. The Sorcerer's Society begrudgingly worked with him (after having once thrown him out completely), the witches preferred to stay acquaintances and business partners, and the demons … well, most of his demons didn't particularly care for him, for obvious reasons.

He's done more than his fair share of unsavory deeds in his quest for power, in his mission to show that humans could hold their own against angels and demons alike. He had not meant to become immortal, but what better way to utilize his eternal life than to safeguard the human realm in a way only he could? It was a burden he ultimately placed on himself, one that Solomon believed only he was able to carry. So he must do it alone.

Then you arrived.

It happened so quickly, a whirlwind of events that led you to becoming his apprentice — his first apprentice in a very, very long time. You started to spend great lengths of time together, filled with laughs and debates and companionship. He's not sure when exactly it was that you had wormed so deeply into his heart that now it ached anytime you were no longer near.

Solomon watches you now from a distance. The town is bustling on this rainy evening, and he can see you perfectly framed by one of Cafe Lament's windows. The candles and lights surrounding you awash you in a captivating halo-like glow, making you feel even further from his reach. With a wry chuckle, he turns away.

"Solomon!"

He hadn't made it very far before he hears your voice, his heart skipping a beat. He musters his usual smile as he turns towards you, but is caught by surprise as you throw your arms around him.

"Where have you been? I swear it's been so hard to get a hold of you lately." You squeeze him for a moment before pulling back to examine his face. "Is everything okay?"

"Ah, yes, just … been busy with some research projects, that's all." Solomon finds himself wanting to sink into your embrace, his conflicting emotions battling in his chest. No, he shouldn't want this. You deserved better than him.

"Is that all?" You question, eyes narrowing. "Something is on your mind, I can tell."

You had become awfully good at reading him, despite his constant attempts to hide behind his well-crafted mask. But how could he tell you? That he had become dependent on your warmth? That you were too good for him? That he was scared of losing you one day whether to his secrets or to your mortal life, leaving him all alone again?

"It's nothing, really. Just tired." His hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away droplets of water on your skin from the light rain. "Sorry if I made you worry."

"Hm." You don't seem entirely convinced, but to his relief, you accept it. "Well then, guess I'll just have to help you get some rest."

Before he can answer, your lips find his in a slow, languid kiss. He sighs into it, his arms coming to hold you close as he gives in. As the world fades away, so do his concerns — right now, all he wants is to feel you in his arms and pretend like you were the only two humans left in the universe. In this moment, at least, he'd allow himself this selfishness.

[deantfwinchester]

A Half-Day

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader, same timeline

Ok so i didn't get em both posted n the same day, but two in two days ain't bad!! Hope y'all enjoy :)

Summary: Morning sickness with Baby #2 manifests a little differently than the first go-round. No worries - Joel's gonna take care of his girl no matter what.

Warnings: pregnancy, more euphemisms for vomit, and they already have another little one as well this time.

A/N: self-indulgent fluffy nonsense. guilty as charged

Word Count: 2.7k

____________________________________________________________

It’s better this time around, for the most part at least. Rather than a steady, consistent nausea most mornings when you wake up, this time it’s more intense bouts on scattered days. You’ll admit, it’s nice to not be intimately acquainted with the plumbing every day, but the days that you are? Damn pipes should take you out to dinner, as much time as you’re spending together. An awesome trade, really. 

One morning it’s so bad it doesn’t stop by the time you get to work. You’d left for work during a lull, having been lured into a false sense of security by the temporary return of your sea legs. But now it’s second period, and you’ve left class to hit the lounge bathroom multiple times — this is additionally unpleasant in a public restroom for sure. Once you finish you shut your eyes tight, breathe deep, and pick yourself up off the floor for the fourth — or was it the fifth? — time this morning, and exit the bathroom, straight into your closest friend on campus, the teacher next door to you. 

“Whoa, sweetie, what’s going on?,” she asks, holding your shoulder steady and taking in the sickly expression you’d been too surprised to steel into a smile. Her brows furrow deeper in concern when your eyes are slow to meet her own, “I stopped by your room to grab some of your spare copies, and the kids told me you were gone for the third time?” You stand up straighter and clear your throat, trying to deflect her concern — it doesn’t work.  

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little morning sickness, that’s all,” you nod, attempting to assure both her and yourself. 

“Babe, I heard you, and that wasn’t little. You been doing this all morning?,” she asks, eyes wide and borderline tearful. 

“It’s cool, I’ll get it together. I think,” oh god, it’s happening again. You attempt to swallow and finish your thought. “I-I think that’s the last of it,” you stutter, beginning to sweat a bit. She doesn’t buy it for a second. 

“Absolutely not. You’re benched for today,” she says, ushering you slowly to the couch in the corner of the room. After sitting you down, she grabs a bottle of water and twists off the cap, passing it to you, “Here. Little sips whenever you can manage. If you’ve been doing this all morning you gotta be dehydrated. I’ll let em know you need a sub. Where’s your phone?”

At this point you so badly want to avoid barfing again, you’re done fighting. You let out a tired “classroom,” between slow, measured breaths, and begin to sink into the worn sofa beneath. 

“Okay. Don’t you dare get up! I got your kids, and you’re going home.”

You can’t blame her, you’d be worried sick if the roles were reversed, and going home sounds pretty damn good right now. You nod and lay back against the cushion, closing your eyes and willing the nausea to subside. 

______________________________________________________________

Joel leaves work immediately after getting the call, worried out of his mind. Receiving a call from you outside of your lunch period was odd on its own, but answering it to a voice that wasn’t yours made his blood run cold. Luckily he recognized your friend’s voice fairly quickly as she informed him you needed to go home, and she didn’t want you driving. 

No urging was required, as Joel had his keys in his hand before she could finish making her request. He’d been worrying about you since he left this morning, while you insisted you were fine through a still-queasy grin. He knows you’ll be okay after while, but the fact you’ve been suffering all morning with this is breaking his heart.

Joel gets to school about ten minutes into your planning, and signs into the office, meeting your friend there who takes him to the lounge.

He enters to find you curled in on yourself on the couch, eyes closed like you’re trying to get a little sleep. He crouches down in front of you and gently pushes your hair back from your forehead to rouse you. 

“Sweetheart? You alright?” he croons. 

“Joel?” you say, voice rough with the grain of your battered throat from this morning’s festivities.

“Hey darlin’. I’m sorry you’re still not feeling good. Let’s get you home, huh?” he asks, standing up on his rusty knees and leaning forward to kiss the top of your head before grabbing your hands. “You ready to get outta here?” you give a small, miserable nod, and he feels his heart crack a little. He lifts you gently from the couch and rubs your back as he walks you steadily out the door.

You’re quiet as you make your way to the car. Joel sits you down in the passenger seat and reaches over your shoulder, buckling your seatbelt himself, and you smile in appreciation. 

“Wait what about my car, Joel?” you ask, though you certainly don’t feel like driving. 

“Don’t worry bout that honey, I’ll get Sarah or Tommy to come with me later on and we’ll drive it back. Not a problem,” he replies, squeezing your knee in comfort. You know he means it, too. He’s so sweet about it but you still feel bad. That’s more somebody else has got to do because you couldn’t get your shit together. 

Joel can see the guilt growing on your face, so he starts talking again, hoping to distract you. “You gonna be alright if we pick Vivi up before we head home?” 

“Yeah of course. isn’t it still a little early though?” you ask. It’s still pretty early in the day, not quite eleven o’clock. 

“It is,” he replies with a sober nod, “But i don’t feel like lettin’ you outta my sight anymore today, that’s all.” He tucks your hair behind your ear and puts his hand under your chin, lifting so your eyes to meet his own. Yours begin to water a little bit. You feel like a fucking baby, having to call home and be picked up in the middle of the day. You blink back the tears, and Joel sighs a little before turning away.

Joel gets in the driver’s seat, and sees you shaking a little, so he cranks on the heat. “You warm enough, baby?” and you just nod, keeping your eyes trained forward, and resting your head against the window.

“All right. let me know if you need to stop, or need air, anything, okay?” you give him a small “okay” in reply, and he pulls away. You ride most of the way in silence, but he grabs your hand and squeezes. He's pretty sure you’re upset, but he doesn’t wanna bring it up in case you’re just tired. The hormones have been doing a number on you this go-round.

______________________________________________________________

When he pulls up to the preschool and parks the car, he turns to you and before he can get a word out, the tears begin to fall. You’d spent the ride over trying to swallow the guilt eating at you. Leaving during the school day, making other teachers cover your classes, grading that needed to get done, getting behind on the lesson schedule, and pulling Joel from his own workday — the list of inconveniences you created today ran on loop in your mind. Joel’s eyes widen in surprise at the sudden shift in mood. 

“I'm so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry you had to leave work in the middle of the day to come get me like a fucking kid, this is ridiculous. I couldn’t just get my shit together, this is so stupid!,” you sob, face in your hands. You knew it was coming, and you’d rather not do it with Vivi in the car. Joel looks devastated to see you crying, and you feel the guilt expand. 

“Oh angel, what are you talking about? You think I'd rather be at work than here with you? I couldn’t get to the school fast enough when I got that call, sweetheart,” he says, holding one of your hands and wiping your tears with his other. You look back at him and sniffle, blinking tears away. 

“None of this is your fault, sweet girl. you can’t help that our little menace is in there making you feel so sick.” he says, resting a light hand on your belly to avoid agitating your nausea. “Don't you worry about work, school, the car, anything. That's my job darlin’. You’re doing the heavy lifting already, I'm just lucky enough to get to take care of you in the meantime. Please let me.” Your lip wobbles again, but this time the tears that fall are from joy and admiration. No matter how long you’re together, Joel’s unwavering care and dedication make you feel so loved it’s overwhelming. “Okay sweet girl?” and you nod again. 

Joel reaches over and pulls you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head, and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now I'm gonna run in and grab Vivi then we’re heading straight home so you can get some rest, alright?” He kisses you once more and squeezes your hand before getting out of the car.

He approaches the open classroom door and knocks. He's only about half an hour early since today’s a half day, but there aren’t any other parents there just yet. 

The teacher greets him warmly when she comes to the door. “Mr. Miller, hi! you’re a little early, we still have about thirty minutes left in play centers before the end of the day.” 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I came to get Vivi early so we could head on home. Her mama wasn’t feeling at work so I went to pick her up. Wanna make sure I don't gotta leave again today."

“Oh no, of course! Let me go grab Vivi. I hope everything’s okay, i know you guys are expecting.” 

“Yeah, she’ll be alright. The morning sickness did a number on her with Vivi too, poor thing.” The teacher gives a sympathetic smile and hands him Vivi’s backpack as the Assistant Teacher leads Vivi over holding her hand, which Vivi rapidly releases, running to the door excitedly upon seeing Joel standing there. “Daddy!” she exclaims, and Joel leans down to scoop her up in his arms, grinning ear to ear. He gives her a kiss on the cheek once she reaches his level, before addressing her.

“Hey there babygirl! We’re gonna head out a little early today, ‘s that alright?” she nods, and he thanks the teachers before turning around and heading out the door. 

Vivi waves bye to her teachers before continuing. “Why daddy?” 

“Your mama’s not feeling good, so we’re gonna get her home to get some rest, but I need your help. You wanna help me take care of Mommy today?” 

Her little eyes go wide with concern, and her little lip begins to wobble. he softens at how much it looks like yours. “is Mommy okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, she’ll be alright pumpkin,” he says, running his knuckle beneath her little chin to assuage her worry. “We just need to let her get some sleep and try to make her feel better okay? Your baby brother’s busy swimmin’ laps in there making your mama’s tummy hurt,” he smiles. Vivi nods back in understanding.

When they get to the car, Joel opens the back door by Vivi’s car seat and sets her down, ready to buckle her in, but she hops out to reach over and talk to you. Joel looks exasperated at how quick she is when he turns back and finds she isn’t there, making you chuckle. She excitedly greets you, and even feeling like you do, she brings a smile to your face.

“Hey honeybee, how was school today?” you say, giving her cheek a little kiss before Joel grabs her and sits her back in her car seat. She keeps yapping while he buckles her in, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Good mommy!” she says, and starts talking about the fun things she did today, specifically the art she got to make with the little dot paints. She loves those things. Joel grabs your hand again in the driver’s seat while you talk with Vivi, and squeezes before cocking his head to the side, letting you know he’ll keep her occupied in conversation if you wanna lay back against the window again.

______________________________________________________________

When you get home, Joel gets Vivi out of her car seat, and she runs to grab your hand while you walk inside. “Daddy said I could help him take care of you today, mommy,” she says, beaming with pride. Your heart melts at her sincerity and care. 

“That's so sweet baby, thank you so much.” Joel pipes up behind you both, having grabbed your bag and Vivi’s from the truck. 

“That’s right, and I also said your mama needs rest more than anything. So how ‘bout we let her get to bed and you help me get some lunch together, huh?” 

“Okay daddy. Mommy, you need comfy clothes before nap time,” Vivi instructs.

“Okay baby, I'll get changed. You gotta be hungry, so get something to eat with daddy first.” You mouth a “thank you” to Joel as you part from Vivi. He pulls you close and whispers “of course” in your ear before kissing your head again, and shooing you off to the bedroom.

You’re cozy in the bed when Joel comes in with Vivi after she’s eaten, and he can tell she’s flagging. She’ll be out like a light for her own nap in no time. She comes in with a bottle of gatorade in your favorite flavor, and Joel carries a sprite with a bendy straw and a sleeve of plain crackers. He hands you the items before grabbing Vivi and plopping her on the bed next to you, where she cuddles up next to your side, and he climbs in on her other side to hold you.

Joel asks you to try to eat a little bit before you get to sleep, and offers some yogurt or bone broth if you can stomach it. He'll also make peppermint tea “if you think it’ll help.” He's already coaxed two advil and half a bottle of water into you since you got home. You take a couple sips of the sprite and eat a couple crackers but tell him all you want right now is for him to stay there with you both. That’ll do just fine for him.

You and Vivi are both asleep in no time. You lean against Joel as he holds you, and Vivi’s leaned against you in his lap. He plays the tv quietly and dozes off as well. This is how Sarah finds the three of you when she arrives home, dropped off from the carpool after school. 

Joel wakes to find his oldest giggling and taking a picture of the three of you, and rolls his eyes before greeting her, and explains the day’s events while gesturing for her to join the pile. Sarah takes her shoes off and crawls into the middle as well next to Vivi, laying her head in your lap, listening to her little sister’s breathing on her right and her little brother’s movements in your stomach on her left.

You rouse just long enough to look down at Sarah and utter a tired “Hi Sweet Pea, how was your day?” cut in the middle with a yawn as you place a hand in her hair and begin carding your fingers through her soft curls. You’ve dozed back off before she can begin to respond, and she and Joel chuckle at each other and she closes her eyes, ready to fall asleep under your drowsy ministrations.

Joel looks down at his family and nearly tears up. Sarah’s breathing evens out soon after, and he reflects on how lucky he is. As he’s about to doze again himself, he suddenly remembers the car still at the school. Eh, it’s Friday anyhow. The car can wait til tomorrow. He sighs in contentment, and joins his three girls napping in the late afternoon sun.

[bbrissonn]

𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡

☆⋆｡°‧★ in which dahlia feels like a high school girl again

☆⋆｡°‧★ will smith x dahlia monroe

☆⋆｡°‧★ wc: 2k

☆⋆｡°‧★ au masterlist

☆⋆｡°‧★ this is not proofread so ignore any mistakes :)

‎‧₊˚✧[ OCTOBER 31, 2023 ]✧˚₊‧

"we're still good for tonight?" will asked the girl as they stood outside the conte forum. dahlia's morning class had been cancelled and she had decided to accompany the boy from his class to practice, along with a quick stop at one of the dinning hall.

there were a couple of halloween parties happening tonight, which will's captain had made a firm point that no one was to attend any of them. the two had then agreed to spend the evening together, watching halloween movies.

"duh." the girl smiled as she pressed a soft peck to his cheek, their hands connected as they smiled at each other. "vi's gonna be gone, you can come to mine." the girl then suggested. will had yet to see her dorm, something that for some reason truly interested him. it was like a visual representation of her mind.

"yeah that works. i don't know what gabe's plan are, so at least we won't get interrupted." the boy answered leaning down a placing a soft kiss on her lips. their short kiss somehow turned into 10 more longer and longer kisses, neither of them wanting to part ways.

"will."

"mmh?" the boy hummed before connecting their lips, his hands cupping her face softly.

"you really need to go." she said, before will quickly connected their lips again, completely ignoring her words. "you're gonna be late."

"don't care." he smirked, before leaning in once again, but dahlia was quicker. she placed both her hands on his chest, softly pushing him back.

"well, i do. so enough." the girl said sternly, although a wide smile was plastered on her face as will rolled his eyes slightly, smiling as well.

"why are you doing this to me, dahls?" he whined dramatically making the girl roll her eyes as well.

"you'll survive, pretty boy." she said before pecking his lips and quickly stepping back. she started heading slowly heading to her class before will had the chance to continue anything.

"you're the worst."

"you love it."

"i'll see you after?"

"i'll be waiting." she smiled before turning around and walking away from him. will stood in place, a smile on his face as he watched the girl walk away. he probably would've stayed there forever if it wasn't for some of the guys arriving.

"what's up, smitty?" jacob said as he the fellow freshmen approached him, snapping the boy out of his trance.

"nothing, why?" the blond boy answered, his voice abnormally higher than usual. the boys all looked between themselves, all noticing his higher pitch.

"why're you just standing here?" will vote asked, making the blond boy's eyes go wide.

"no reason. we should really go in." he answered and waisted no time making his way inside, leaving all of his friends confused.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"hey." will smiled as dahlia opened her dorm room. the girl quickly his awkward posture, both of his hands behind his back as he had a nervous smile on his face.

"hi, you okay?"

"what? oh, yeah, yeah. i'm okay... i, uhm, got these for you." the boy stuttered as he brought his hands forwards, revealing a bouquet of lilies of the valley, making dahlia's jaw drop slightly. no one had even given her flowers, especially lilies of the valley, which she had briefly mentioned to be her favourite.

"wow, will, i- thank you." the girl gasped as she took them form him admiring them as the boy stepped him, a soft smile on hi face. "they're beautiful." the girl stated as started looking around her room for something to put them in, she didn't have a vase, so at this point anything could work.

meanwhile, will slowly stepped into the room his eyes wondering around. their dorm room had the same layout as his, but it was much cleaner than his. she had a couple of paintings hung above her desk, along with some pictures of her and her friends above her bed. on her nightstand stood a framed picture of who he assumed was her parents, holding who he also assumed to be her as a baby.

"that's cute." the boy mumbled, making the girl look over at him. she followed his eyesight over the wall of pictures, smiling softly as she placed the flowers down on her desk.

"they're my people." she smiled as she watched the boy walk over to her nightstand and pickup the framed picture. her smile only grew as she walked over to him, her arms wrapping around his waist from behind, her head leaning on his biceps.

"you?"

"mhm. think i was maybe 5 months old."

"you were so small." the boy chuckled as he looked between the picture and the girl. she still looked to same to him. "you look a lot like your dad." he remarked, making dahlia chuckle softly.

"everyone says that, but he doesn't see it. thinks i look exactly like my mom."

"you're an only child, right?"

"yeah."

"ever wish you had siblings?"

"sometimes." she admitted as will placed the frame back and sat down on the edge of her bed. dahlia stood between his legs, her arms moving to his neck as his wrapped around her waist. "but, why mess with perfection, you know." she joked, making will smile softly at her before pulling her close and resting his head on her chest.

"how was practice?" the girl asked after a minute of silence, her tone matching his previous one. the boy sighed slightly before resting his chin on her chest and looking up at her. her hands moved to cup his cheeks, leaning down to connect their foreheads.

"missed you."

"it was 3 hours, will."

"yeah, 3 hours too long." he mumbled before puckering his lips slightly. dahlia laughed slightly, throwing her head back, before leaning down and connecting their lips together.

their small innocent kiss soon turned into a small make out, their tongues dancing together as will's hand moved all over her body. the boy was quick to pull her onto his lap, shifting the two of them so he was leaning against the headboard.

the air in the room was hot as their bodies danced together. dahlia's hands gripping and pulling at all of his curls, moving down to pull on his chain every once in a while. as for will, his hands were all over the place, never staying still for more than 10 seconds. their lips took turn moving to the other's neck, sucking and bitting softly.

the two eventually pulled away almost ten minutes later, a string of saliva connecting them shortly before snapping. dahlia leaned her forehead against his as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes shut as will softly rubbed her sides.

will's eyes were wide opened as his mind were crazy. she somehow looked even prettier than she already did. he truly couldn't believe what was happening to him. never did he ever think that he would find himself in this position, a pretty girl who truly liked him just for him and not because he played hockey. a girl who always wanted to know more about, but somehow already knew so much about him. someone that can so easily learn how to read in a short period of time.

dahlia was all he could think about. whenever he woke up, she was the first thing that crossed his mind, her notification always being the one he's looking for. her little doodles in his notebooks, the way her touch felt on his skin. and will would never admit this to anyone, but his camera roll stood a picture of his hand with her number written on it, along with the heart she had left. just thinking about that moment, butterflies flew in his stomach. and whenever he would think about the moment their eyes first met, gosh he felt sick in the best way possible.

"think 'm falling in love with you." the boy admitted before he even had time to process the thought. dahlia's eyes flew wide open as will's words registered in his head. there was no way he just that !

"what?" the girl exclaimed, her voice a vast contrast to the previous silence in the room. there was no way this was happening to him. he wanted noting more than to runaway in the moment, but with dahlia on his lap, there was no way for him to go. he hoped that if he prayed hard enough, a giant blackhole would open beneath him and sallow him up. "will. will? will!"

"shit, oh my god, dahls... i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"say it again." the girl cut him off, her eyes looking straight into his.

"what?"

"say it again. wanna hear you say it again, will." the girl begged, her lips itching closer to his.

"think 'm falling in love with you, dahls." the boy repeated, his voice quiet and shaky. dahlia was quick to smile before placing a deep and long kiss to will's lips.

"i'm falling in love with you, too, will. real fucking hard, and i really hope i never stop falling." the girl admitted, making will let out a sigh he didn't even know he was holding in.

"then we can keep falling together."

"i'd like that." the girl smiled before once against connecting their lips.

the two teenagers eventually did end up watching a movie like they had planned to, although their was a lot more kissing than watching taking place. will had fallen asleep at some point around 11:30, leaving dahlia to stare at him for a couple of minutes before placing her laptop, which they had used to watch the movie, away and falling asleep herself in his arms.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

the next morning, will woke up in almost panic as he opened in his eyes to see that he was very much not in his room. he quickly pushed himself up, looking around the room only to remember he was in dahlia's room.

"stop moving." the girl whined softly as she tried her hardest to pull the boy back down. will smiled softly before laying back down, wrapping his arms around the girl and pulling her close to his chest.

"sorry."

"you're so warm." the girl gushed as she tried to bring herself as close to the boy as possible making him giggle lightly as the feeling of her face in his neck.

"'m sorry for falling asleep."

"don't worry. you're really comfy." dahlia said, finally pulling away from him and looking up softly at him. her eyes were barely opened as her hair flew in all directions on her head.

"am i?"

"mhm. might have to throw away my pillows and just keep you here forever." she joked before pecking his lips and letting her head fall into his chest.

"dahls?"

"mm."

"you're all i think about, you know."

"that's cute, willy." the girl smiled against his chest. only to find herself being forced to look up at the boy by his hands cupping her face and angling it upwards.

"i'm being serious, dahlia. fuck, every morning you're the first thing i think about, i'm in class and i can't focus on what's going on 'cause everything reminds me of you. and then you try and help me understand, but you're next to me and all i can think about is how much i'm falling for you. even when i'm at practice, can't stop thinking about you, dahls. and i don't think i ever want to stop thinking about you." the boy finally admitted what had been roaming in his head for way longer than he would like to admit. "i wanna be your boyfriend, dahls."

dahlia found herself blushing as she tried her hardest to keep eye contact with the boys. no one had ever said anything like this to her before, she thought stuff like this only happened in movies and books.

"i wanna be your girlfriend, will." she said, and the two were quick to connect their lips together. "so, we're... dating?" the girl asked shyly as the two of them pulled away, both of their face flush red.

"yeah... if that's what you want, of course."

"of course that's what i want, silly." the girl laughed before once again connecting their lips. it safe to say that the two barely made it on time to their first class of the day.

[cadencelistic]

erm perhaps mouthwashing characters + younger sibling!reader??maybe angst like dying in their arms perchance,,thx!!!

You're getting somewhere......

Not proofread, obviously.

Curly was so happy when you came on the Tulpar, whether you're an intern or a new worker, he's suppopeperrr duppoerrr happy about it. He's kinda protective, he'll monitor you a lil more than the other crew members. They're all his responsibility though, so he won't go overboard. He needs to make sure the others are alright as well, ykkk??? Since i see no other way of you dying before he gets crashed, let's sayyyy...... The ship does crash like ingame, but you followed him like the STUPID LITTLE SHIT EVER. You're right outside the cockpit, and just before they hit the meteorite, Curly sees yo ass and tries to get you away, but fucks up and throws you into the fire. He pretty much goes fucking insane and tries to save you and gets himself burnt a little. Now you're a quarter bit more of a corpse and he's fucking bawling. You won't die yet, but you'll be soosososooooo happy when you do.

I don't think Jimmy is that happy that you're working together. Nah, he probably fuckin hates it. Now, people always assume that siblings will fight no matter what, that's a bit of an advantage for him he can say whatever shit he wants, and people will just be like "Oh, that's just how siblings are". A lot more meaner to you than he is to everybody else and sometimes forcibly shows you how to do your job right. He's probably the one killing you, and he'll barely feel any remorse. If not him, he still won't really care that much, “I told you so" that's him. If he cared...... It'd only be because he doesn't want to damage his reputation......

It's hard for me to think of Swansea having a younger sibling. I guess his parents fucked again when he was like 20-40 whatever you want and have a child that is raised better than he was. He'll still treat you like Daisuke, but you're family, so he's nicer. Holds nothing against you despite being the child that y'alls parents tried harder and better on. Acts like he has something to teach you, and does kind of teach you. I imagine that your parents didn't really like when you were with him during his drunk years, so you never really had time to spend together. If you died, he lowk wouldn't show how it affects him, but he becomes more irritable. Lashing out at people. Thinks it's his fault for you dying because he couldn't be a better brother. Thinks y'alls parents would fucking hate him for letting you die, might as well kill himself/hj.

Now, Daisuke. He's ecstatic!!! His little sibling with him? (You're in an intern here, idgaf) He's so happy that mom didn't send him alone. At least there's someone there that understands him. You and Daisuke are basically the children the others babysit. When you die, he just kind like.... Ykykykyk breaks down. Fuckung sobs himself on you, and he's scared that y'alls parents will get mad and hate him for not protecting you and he also thinks its his fault. Now he feels like the loneliest person ever, and he'll just be in a constant grieving state. All that standard stuff until he dies. Letss says that Jimmy was the one that killleed you. Daisuke would stay far away from him, and be all awkward whene he tries to talk with him

I feel like the person who'd take it the hardest is Anya, it just feels right to say that. You die a slow death, not slow and painful like Curly, but still dying slowly in pain. She'll try to treat you, but struggle lots because she just can't bear the sight of you in pain. Ultimately, she'll feel guilty when you die and blame herself for not being able to take care of you like a proper nurse should. This is really short and i hate that.

[withahappyrefrain]

“i’m nothing but a personal heater to you, huh?” is so rhett coded during a snow day. you’ve constantly got your arms around him and begging him to stay on the couch/bed with you bc 1. it’s freezing (the house is drafty okay!) and 2. you’re just not used to both of you being home all day so you’re trying to soak up as much of it as you can

"Where are you going?"

Rhett freezes, one hand still clutching the bedsheets, one foot on the floor while the other was still in bed. His blue eyes are wide open, as if you've caught him in the middle of doing something you weren't supposed to know about.

"Getting ready for work?" It comes out as a question because truthfully, he's still confused as to why you sounded so offended when catching him in the middle of his morning routine.

"Rhett, absolutely not. There's at least a foot of snow out there, probably more."

Your boyfriend shrugged. He was from the area, this was nothing. Work still had to be done. You may have the day off, but he sure didn't.

"There's no way the roads are clear." Your body moved closer to his side of the bed, wrapping your arms around his lithe waist.

Placing your head on his shoulder, you looked up through your lashes. "Just stay in bed with me a little longer? Please Rhett?"

He could never say no to you. The little squeal of delight you let out as he got back in bed made his heart flutter. Rhett had never been with someone who was so outwardly excited to be with him.

He did mind how cold your body was compared to his though.

"Jesus Christ, your feet are ice!" He huffed, wincing as you put your feet on his.

"Just need to warm up," you slung your arms around his body, welcoming his warmth.

"I'm nothing but a personal space heater to you, huh?" Rhett chuckled. You always clung to him when it got cold outside.

"No, you're the love of my life," you sighed before placing a sweet kiss on his flushed cheeks, "And I wanna spend as much time with you on this snowy day."

"Well, from the looks of it, we have the whole day together." There was no way he could get to the ranch safely. He knew that when getting up. But it was nice to hear how you wanted him to stay, wanted to be with you.

Rhett would never get tired of hearing that.

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝓢𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

pairing kang sae-byeok x reader | wc: 1.8k

summary -> the worst day of your life. ( spending a day with your boyfriend ) warnings -> unwanted touch, alcohol consumption.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

12:16AM

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 Sunday with your boyfriend was considerably the last thing you wanted to waste your day on. The tension between the two of you never subsided, even as the both of you texted each other every once in a while out of pure boredom, the conversation always stale and ending abruptly, ruining your mood for the remainder of the day. At some point you had stopped trying to mend the cracks in your relationship, sick of the way he treated you, as well as the way he lacked any respect for the boundaries you set in place.

Speaking of boundaries being crossed, he showed up at your apartment unannounced, the sharp pounding of his fists against the door and insistent ringing of the doorbell waking you up at 8AM sharp. The annoyance you felt as you stared at the ceiling like no other, whispering apologies to your alarm clock for ever calling it the most unbearable thing in the world in your moments of crankiness.

His intrusion of your space gave you no time to gather yourself, there was no transition from sleep into the reality of yet another exhausting day, the next one always more tiring than the last.

Him greeting you with rough kiss on the lips, From the very start it felt like an obligation rather than a date. Bringing his own set of clothes he wanted you to wear, a skirt too short, with a blouse too revealing. Calling your clothes boring, mentioning how much of an "upgrade" this was before dragged you along, feeding you an empty promise of today being the “Perfect Day”. And as much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn't. Noticing how every detail, every choice he made, was tailored to his preferences, without a care of what you wanted. Everything was always for him, from the stores you shopped at, to the food places you stopped to get something to eat.

Deciding to bring you to a café, one that you had once enjoyed but now resented. The rich aroma of coffee beans, once a comforting scent to ease your mornings, now twisted and churned your stomach uncomfortably, the smells overwhelming and making your head spin. You had told him weeks ago about your newfound aversion to coffee, wanting nothing to do with it unless it had to do with work. But as with most things, your vocal discomfort seemed inconsequential to him, always brushing it off with a "What about me and what I like?" even though it's always about him and what he likes.

Now you sat miserable at a bustling Café in an outfit you didn't like, across from a man you hated.

He at least had half the heart to ask you questions in a way that feigned interest, but it was undeniable how much he didn't actually care, the way his gaze always flickered elsewhere before you could even finish answering. His eyes shamelessly trailing up and down women that passed by, the smallest things pulling his focus away from you, leaving you feeling like an afterthought. Your words, spoken with less and less conviction, and your sentences falling shorter and shorter until they were simple hums. It didn't matter as you became mere background noise to his wandering attention.

At your silence it didn't take long for him to launch into yet another self-absorbed monologue, recounting his recent trip with an air of arrogance. His tales of all the “amazing” things he’d done during his three months away felt more like boasts than conversations, especially when he'd compare your last three months to his with the usual hint of arrogance. His sentences soon falling on deaf ears as you tuned him out, doing the thing you just judged him of your gaze now wandered around the café in search of anything to anchor your restless thoughts and cure your boredom—until your eyes landed on her.

Sae-Byeok stood by the pickup counter, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her oversized worn jacket. Her gaze, sharp and steady, already watching you with a familiarity that left you frozen. Everything around you—the hum of the café, your boyfriend’s incessant chatter—faded into a muffled blur as you kept your eyes focused on her. She didn’t look away, and neither could you, almost as if you were stuck in a trance from her usual analyzing gaze. Her presence somehow becoming something you missed even with how fleeting it was.

And It wasn’t until her name was called that she tore her eyes away from you, reluctantly turning to grab her order from the counter. Even as she looked away your gaze remained reliant on her figure, still staring until the insistent snapping from your boyfriend's fingers in front of your face, pulled you back into reality. A soft gasp, escaping your lips as you blinked rapidly, trying to force your eyes to focus back on him.

“Are you even listening to me?" He sharply asked, his hands now gripping the side of the table. "It’s like you’re half-dead,” he added, irritation thick in his voice as he sat back in his chair with a huff. His head suddenly turning to try and follow your gaze. “Who are you looking at anyway, hm?”

You opened your mouth, only a pathetic breath of air able to come about before you mumbled out a weak. “No one. I—I was just… thinking.” your tone shaky, unsure, and unconvincing.

He didn’t buy it, he never did. His judging gaze lingering on you long after your excuse. But before he could press further and catch onto who you actually were looking at, Sae-Byeok was gone. Flipping her hood over her head as she stepped outside, covering herself from the light drizzle outside. Even after being called out with his eyes still burning into you, you couldn't help but watch her one last time. Freezing at the glance she threw your way through the window, her expression unreadable as she disappeared into the street. At least you were happy to see her.

With an annoyed sigh followed by angry grumbles, your boyfriend waved over the waiter, demanding the check with the kind of dismissiveness that left a bitter taste in your mouth and a cloud of embarrassment hung over you at his disrespectfulness. Sitting in front of him left you wondering why you had ever gotten together with him in the first place.

Waiting for the check in silence and being dragged to the car was something you wished to never experience again, the weight of what his next words or actions might be left you jumbled with nerves. And as if things couldn't get worse, the ride home only revealed how he knew nothing about you.

"The fuck is your problem, huh?" was the first thing that met your ears. You shrugged all of his pointed comments and aggressive jabs off, mumbling quietly as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. None of his comments or questions were meant to actually find out "what was wrong with you" they were just mindless jabs at your supposed “coldness.”

You stayed still as ever when he turned towards you, seeing out of the corner of your eye the rise of a slow smirk making its way onto his face. "I know what this is about." he quietly mutters, his voice dropping down an octave making the hair on your neck stand up.

"You do?" you question, with raised eyebrows, eyebrows moving but the rest of your body remaining frozen as a soft hum fell from his lips.

"You just missed me."

You had to fight your eyes from rolling, of course he didn't fucking know.

One of his hands softly landed on the skin of your knee, his fingers creeping upward to your thigh, his fingers roughly kneading the skin of your thigh as he slowly pushed the hem of your skirt higher. Your stomach twisted in revulsion at the feeling of his touch, something that once excited you and filled you with butterflies repulsed you and filled you with dread and without thinking, you grabbed his hand, throwing it off of your lap while simultaneously pressing your figure as far as you possibly could into the car door, the cold window a welcoming feeling.

At the feeling of you throwing his hand off of you and the look of disgust that clouded your features, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white as he snapped at you, “Is this really how you treat your fucking boyfriend who's been gone for three god damn months?”

You didn’t argue, you simply didn’t have the energy. Staring out the window, you muttered out with a sigh, “I’m just tired,” hoping the words would be enough to end the conversation. You couldn't put it into words, becoming so emotionally checked out that any type of conversation with him would be pure torture.

But they weren’t. His voice sharpened paired with a deep grumble, his next words dripped with venom. “If you’re not gonna fuck me, what are you good for?”

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of his words settled over you like a shroud, suffocating and inescapable and by the time he pulled into your driveway, tears blurred your vision. He slammed the car door on his way out, leaving you behind in the quiet of the car and his absence. Something that should've brought you peace was instead suffocating and left you humiliated.

Through the cracked window of the car, you caught the faint, acrid smell of his cigarette smoke, the orange glow of the streetlamp casting against his silhouette that showed him leaning against the hood of the car, now on his phone as if he didn't just say the words that would haunt you throughout the rest of the night.

You didn’t wait for him to return. Gathering what little strength you had left, you trudged into your apartment and shut the door firmly behind you, locking out the night—as well as him. Walking to your room, you peeled off the day like a second skin, washing your face and changing into something soft, comfortable, and familiar. But the tears came harder once you were alone, the events of the day replaying in your mind like a cruel montage. You crawled into bed and pulled the covers over your head, trying to drown out the world. It was a bit ironic how the appearance of someone you knew so little of became the best part of your day.

Going to bed with one person on your mind, leaving the brunt of the day and your boyfriend behind.

Only to be woken hours later to the stench of alcohol and the unsteady shuffle of footsteps. Lifting yourself up to watch him drunkenly stumble into the room, a jumble of slurred apologies escaping his mouth, all stained with insincerity. Grumbles of "I'm sorry, baby." leaving his lips as he sloppily kissed you on the cheek.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t move, you nearly couldn't. Staring at the ceiling, you let his muttered words fade into nothingness and as he collapsed into bed beside you, all you could think about was how little you missed him.

I can't live like this.

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here @monroesturnns

[hbpseverus]

for all that us snape fans say how we love his character because he is flawed and complex, i find it disappointing how many of us can't extend that line of thinking towards lily, while pretending that young severus was entirely innocent. i've noticed this a lot recently and it's been bothering me quite a bit so i've felt the need to defend lily, or to be exact, analyse the downfall of their relationship without basically giving her all the blame and instead looking at both characters and especially lily more critically.

so. let's talk about the conversation between her and severus after the werewolf prank. some snape fans harshly criticise her in this scene because she insists that james saved severus and doesn't acknowledge how serious this prank was, while insisting that at least the marauders don't use dark magic.

and i agree that she should have been more on severus' side in this case. after all he could have died or gotten seriously injured, turned into a werewolf etc and she downplays the severity of the situation and generally doesn't acknowledge how the marauders bullied severus very much. so yes, she could have been a better friend here.

but at the same time, from her perspective, she was already noticing that severus was spending more time with his housemates, all of them aspiring death eaters, how he had always looked up to lucius and was slowly heading down that same path. how he didn't truly disapprove of his housemates disgusting actions towards muggleborns - her own kind. even though it's not entirely logical, since we see through the marauders that light magic can be used to do harm aswell, this also explains her dislike of dark arts, which these (aspiring) death eaters all were fond of and using to do awful things to her friends (and hogwarts also pretty much teaches that dark magic is pure evil). by this point she had most likely also experienced discrimination at hogwarts for being muggleborn. she knew the situation in the wizarding world wasn't favourable for her, and now her best friend was starting to agree with those people?

the next notable event was of course snapes worst memory (sigh, here i go talking about it for the millionth time). and i really don't like how some people on our side of the fandom talk about lily in this scene (of course, this is not all of us).

first of all we saw that she initially smiled upon seeing severus be bullied, and yes, this was honestly quite disgusting. we know that severus saw this and was rightfull hurt, and this very well could be the reason why he snapped at her. but that is her only 'crime' in this scene. because she then does quickly turn against james and this entire crowd and defends severus. only for james to insult and threaten her, and severus to call her a 'filthy little mudblood'.

now, people say she should have done more to defend severus, that her attempt was quite half-hearted. i don't know. maybe she could have done more, but she did tell the marauders to stop, you can't say she didn't try. some say she should have hexed james herself or bring up her prefect role (although i'm not sure it's confirmed she was one at this time). but say she was a prefect, her job would be to stop fighting, which she tried to do, not to get involved in fights herself. and you can tell that james is entirely dismissive of her and clearly won't let her stop him no matter what, even threatening her in the process. lily also genuinely seems to still hate him at this point in time, she is described to have been disgusted with him to the point where even harry questions his parents marriage. so i don't believe it's fair to say she was just 'flirting' with james here.

furthermore, people believe she should have forgiven severus for being called a mudblood. i used to agree that it wasn't that serious, but i feel differently now. because it wasn't just a word, it wasn't a one time mistake or slip up or even the first time she noticed that he was slowly turning into a future death eater. that's why i brought up their conversation after the prank. lily knows that severus' descend into the death eaters arms had been going on for months, years even. being called - not even just mudblood, but hearing the words "i don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her" out of the mouth of her former best friend was just the final nail in the coffin. it was her confirmation that severus was finally too far down that road, and she, as a muggleborn, could no longer justify surrounding herself with him. so she abandons him at the scene, and i can't blame her one bit.

of course this post is not meant to be severus bashing in any way, he is and always will be my favorite character, but i don't enjoy pretending he was completely innocent, even his younger self. this is also not to excuse the marauders, as their bullying never had anything to do with severus possibly being a death eater and was really just for fun and because they could, and because he was an easy victim. but i truly believe that lily deserves some grace and also to be analysed as a complex character like severus, rather than painting her as one dimensional, either fully good or fully bad.

severus becoming a death eater is the tragic result of his background and surroundings, and when we analyse him we factor all of this in. lily was wealthier, had a better family, was pretty, smart and popular and had a good support system in and out of hogwarts. she couldn't understand why severus made the choices he did. maybe as an adult she would have looked back and understood it all better. but as it was, she was just a teenage girl watching her best friend turn against people like her and not knowing what to do about that. and what's also important to me to point out is that it was not her job to try and stop this, to try and fix him or whatever. it was first and foremost the adults in severus' life who failed him over and over again, not lily.

finally a lot of us can't understand how lily ended up marrying her former friends abuser and use this as an argument against her, but i honestly don't want to go too deep into this topic. i personally strongly dislike this relationship, because james treated lily herself like shit too, aswell as other people. we have to believe that he truly did change, even if there is not much to prove this. even if he did, i personally wouldn't have been able to forgive him. but i don't believe that marrying james makes lily a bad person by extension or anything. ultimately, if she was able to find happiness, i'm happy for her.

[fruitmilkshake]

"Learning to 'See'"

Avatar x COD MWII headcanons

Request by; @defodisturbed

Pairing; just random headcanons of how the Task Force 141 f.t Laswell, Rudy, Ale, Val and Graves would act in pandora (with a na'vi! Reader to orient them 😌👍)

Characters; Task force 141 f.t Rudy, Ale, Val, Graves (I feel weird if i don't add him to the equation), A Mention of Farah visiting HQ.

Warnings: swearing (a lot of it, actually), the reader being called "blue" as a nickname and them acting like a quiet emo sometimes, Price being the father of the group, Ghost being a bitter mf, a small headcanon of Valeria being the reader's crush (platonic wuh luh wuh since Y/N is 19 and Val is like 40 🛐🏳️‍🌈), some Mentions of the reader's past and traumas, Ale and Rudy speaking in spanish, Soap swearing in scottish, Gaz being too curious sometimes, Graves jut being texan and egocentric, Farah becoming friends with Y/N, Mentions of dangerous situations Incluring pandoran predators, slighty injures and new flavors of food ^ ^ (I'm saying this because they're probably going to have stomach ache after tasting Pandora's fruits and food).

Inspired in; this thought that I had a long time ago.

My native lenguage isn't English, so i'm sorry if i make a mistake at writing this, and i'm sorry if this has Spelling mistakes or if the pronunciation is wrong

Note;

The Task Force and the other characters are Part of the resistance (HQ), and the whole situation happends in frontiers of pandora (AFOP)

Also, this is how the reader looks like;

The reader is called; Y/n in this fic and it's referred to them as "She/her".

Origins;

(How everything started and Y/N's backstory)

ꕤ So... Pandora... A beautiful but also dangerous place... You know what they say; "The worst dangerous thing about pandora, is that you may grow to love her too much"..... Well, that's kinda of true, but to before loving you need to get used to its dangerousness... And that's what these "sky people" need after spending too much time with the enemy...

ꕤ After betreying and Getting away from the RDA facility They used to work on, a small team of four soldiers called "The Task Force 141", a female CEO, A soldier from a team called "The shadows" and two soldiers, one of them being an ex colonel that came from an Elite Unit called "Los vaqueros", found comfort on helping the na'vis and saving the environment of this beautiful planet with the rebel resistance of HQ.

ꕤ even if they barely knew the language (exept for the CEO female, better known as "Laswell") and the uncomfortable feeling of the exopack everytime they had to go outside, the feeling of doing something right after all those years of causing suffering was everything they were willing to fight for..

ꕤ And then... There was this native... A "Child from two world", Kidnapped at the age of 9 with some other na'vi children by the RDA (she was the oldest of the children) and trained to be the a good soldier, never stopped protecting and teaching their old traditions (or at least the ones she remembered) to the youngest children in the facility trapped with her, never following orders from the TAP teachers and getting in trouble all the time...

ꕤ After a few years of trying to protect the children who she called her "tsmukan and tsmuke" (Brothers and sisters"), the worst and unstoppable end waited for them...

ꕤ After finding out of Jake Sully's betreyal against the humanity race, the RDA decided that best they could do was to get rid of the na'vi students on their territory. Of course, if that avatar driver was now with the na'vis, then would the RDA would trust these "creatures" now?...

ꕤ After the massacre who only ended with the oldest being the only survivor, the RDA decided to take her hostage, they didn't knew if They could trust her, better to keep an eye on her, specially if she was the most rebel one, who knows what she could too them...

How everything started;

(How Y/N meeted the "trusting humans")

ꕤ two soldiers of the before mentioned team "Task force 141", a tall, pale and blonde soldier who wore a skull mask under a balaclava, better known as Simon "Ghost" Riley, and a slightly tan and more short soldier with Dark brown mohawk, better known as John "Soap" Mactavish, were sended to explore an old and abandoned RDA facility on a quiet and foggy place in the plains of the "Clouded forest".

ꕤ After exploring the base for a few hours and thinking there not much left to use in this facility, they heard a noise coming from one of the hostage room inside, that's where they found the native (She was taken hostage when she was 19 and she was thrown into a crió capsule, remaining the same age until now), who tried to attack them and kill them with everything she got on hand, after both soldiers calming her down, they explained that they didn't wanted to hurt her, they wanted to help her and her kind, that they were there to look for supplies to help some clans in need of them, she didn't trusted them, not at all actually, but she didn't had another option, she didn't wanted to encounter any other humans from the RDA and this people seemed to be speaking the truth.... Maybe she can try to trust them, worst they could do is be lying, and even then, she would probably kill them there....

ꕤ After thinking and realizing there wasn't really many much other options left, she was finally taken to the HQ base, where she was received warmly for the other members, not really knowing her deeply but guessing that she has been through a lot for her to think of humans like that, which; was true.

(yey, new character added to the team :D)

Coexistence;

(How Y/N gets to know human things and she teachs the humans what she knows)

ꕤ Getting used to a new ambience and wearing something that wasn't the TAP uniform after all those years wearing it was difficult for now known as "Y/N" (who has now gotten the courage to tell the humans her name), but that's why she had "The Task Force 141", the ex soldier of "The shadows", the female ex RDA CEO and the two "Los vaqueros" soldiers to help her adapt to her new form of life in the HQ resistance, and maybe she could help these people to adapt to the life in pandora..

(This is now where i can start with the short but kinda interesting headcanons ;))

ꕤ Since Y/N doesn't trust humans very much, Laswell dedided to give her a tablet where she could record Audio log of what she's feeling in the moment.

ꕤ The Task Force 141 and the others have a crafting time where they make small accessories for their weapons, like trinkets, feathers, small pieces of woods and even they had made a songcord for themselfs (A headcanon from @defodisturbed)

ꕤ Y/N has tried to teach the members of the squad (The Cod characters in one word ;_;) to speak the na'vi lenguage, but their pronunciation is really bad (at least they understand a little bit of the lenguage tho)... Exept for Laswell, since she had to interact with other native, she has learned the lenguage pretty well(am i the only one who wants to see Laswell as an avatar 🛐?).

ꕤ One time, she visited the Zeswa clan and bringed a plate back to the base, since Gaz is so curious, he asked for a bite of the food just to taste it, after a few hours, he got intoxicated (Poor guy, he didn't knew that Pandora's food was toxic for humans), Thankfully, he got cured 👍.

ꕤ The squad has showed Y/N movies, shows, music, books, every human possesion they have traveled with from Earth to pandora and have stolen from the RDA facilities they have shut down (i can't stop imagining Rudy and Ale showing Y/N corridos and she's just sitting there, not knowing what's she listening to ;_;).

ꕤ After Y/N bonded with her ikran, the base always has ikrans growls and squeals on top of the roof, since Y/N always lefts her ikran there.

ꕤ Sometimes; Y/N helps Soap with some face paint everytime they have to fight with the RDA Troops.

ꕤ Graves likes to call Y/N "Blue" as a nickname, since they're 'friends' (no, They're not, actually, Y/N doesn't really like him since he's an egocentric mf.... She doesn't really understand his texan accent 👍)

ꕤ The others think that Y/N, Soap, Ale and Rudy have their own dialect, since they all speak in a total different lenguage.

ꕤ Since Laswell is like the mom of the group, Y/N gets usually comforted by her everytime she has nightmares of her past.

ꕤ The same happens with Price, since he's like the dad of the group, Y/N usually follows his lead and feels safe/protected by him everytime they're in combat (also, Price always tells his dad-jokes to her and she never understand them)

ꕤ everytime they have to go out to explore RDA facilities or just to explore their surroundings, Y/N is the first one on bringing her bow and her poison arrows since she knows that every predator could be waiting for them in the next corner of every place (specially the RDA experimented ones).

ꕤ Both Y/N And Ghost are the cold and quiet ones of the group.

ꕤ Everytime Ale and Rudy speak in spanish or Soap speaks/swears in Scottish, she tries to listen to see if she can understand at least a little bit (she can't XD).

ꕤ Since Soap, Gaz and Price are the only ones who use folded sleeves, they always get bug bites and plants/flowers allergies.

ꕤ Sometimes it's funny to see Y/N towering the rest of the squad, specially since the others are full grown men and Y/N is only a teenage.

ꕤ Y/N likes when Laswell style and brushes her hair with accessories and feathers she has acquired during her visits to the other clans around pandora.

ꕤ Soap, Gaz and Ale likes to make competences with Y/N of who has a better aiming with a shutgun or a knife (she wins, obviously 👍)

ꕤ Y/N carries a lot trinkets in her clothes and weapons that the others have made at crafting time ^^.

ꕤ I think that Farah and Y/N would be good friends :D, like... Imagine them speaking of their cultures and their long lost families, Farah teaching Y/N to have a better aim with the shutgun, Y/N styling Farah's hair with different types of feathers and accesories and-AND ALODOEIRKNDNDMD.

ꕤ After Ale and Rudy ambushed a few RDA soldiers, They captured a female human soldier, called Valeria "El sin nombre" Garza, she was captured by the HQ soldiers and taken to their base to interrogate her about the RDA tracking activities. During her lounge in the HQ base, Y/N couldn't help but be amazed by this human female's beauty, who was this woman? Why was she beautiful?, even if she knew she couldn't be together, specially since this human was older than her, but it was just a small crush after (no, seriously, just a small crush 👍)

ꕤ Valeria teached Y/N a little bit of spanish and teached her to have self confidence, after all, she has lost it all after spending almost all of her life in that RDA base as a hostage..... Eventually; Valeria joined the resistance, ready to fight for pandora after seeing what the RDA has done to this planet.

Extra;

A moodboard for @defodisturbed based on this post ^ ^ I hope you like it!

I'm sorry i couldn't have this ready for yesterday as i promised 😓

Well, that's all! This was so fun to make, but also difficult, my mind has so much ideas that are so difficult to describe them, but whatever!

I hope you guys liked reading this and that this helps you with any story you want! Byee!

[anonnnnwriter]

Melancholy pt. 2

Satoru Gojo (JJK) x Reader (You!) x Suguru Geto (JJK) (Platonic Relationship! You were all good friends during your high school years.)

mel·an·chol·y /ˈmel(ə)nˌkälē/ noun a feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. except, in this case, there is one. It's December 24th, a day of mourning. You reminisce about the memories you've shared with Suguru Getou, only to realize you are not alone.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Our Blue Days, A Precious Memory

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

 "Yo, Satoru!" Getou greeted his best friend, eagerly waving his hand before placing it back in his pants pocket. "What are you up to?" he inquired shortly after.

        "Getou~!" Satoru Gojo, his only best friend, greeted back with a tune embedded in his voice. "Oh, I bought all of these sweets because I was hungry. I was looking for you. I wanted to share these with you," he spoke with glee. Satoru practically beamed around the other stoic male, whose back was more bent than a shrimp's natural position. It permanently blinded the other in some way figuratively.

        "How curious. I was also looking for you. Nanami and Shoko included," Getou brushed the strand of his hair that hung right before his eye. "There's a new student in town. We're all going to greet them right now. It's better to leave a good impression on them and start with a solid foot, yeah?" 

        "Do I have to go?" Satoru complained almost immediately, huffing as he lowered his dark blue sunglasses to have a better look at his companion. "That sounds like a lot to do already. I want to spend some time with you. I barely have time now with all of the Special Grade missions those old farts are throwing at me back to back," he pouted. "We can eat those sweets on the way and talk. It's not going to be the end of the world, Satoru. I will always be here by your side," Getou reassured the other, who received a toothy grin in reply to his comforting words. "Fine, fine! No need to get so corny with me, geez."

        "Great," Getou smiled. "I know where they are already, so let's get going before we're late." He began to walk ahead as he spoke, Satoru eagerly following behind like a lost puppy. In his old fashion, he swung his arm and slung it over the shoulders of the other, who pushed away his best friend playfully. "Satoru, get off me, and let's hurry up." Getou restated, his slim eyes shutting tightly as his gaze approached the school's pillared hallways. "Yeah, yeah, but can we eat the Kikufuku? I'm starving!"

────୨ৎ────

Being in Tokyo, Japan's Jujutsu Tech High School was the least of the places you thought you'd be. Having the potential to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer wasn't on your bingo card for this year, either. It was strange. Life has twisted and turned to give you what you longed for: an adventure into the unknown and answers to how you could even see what others could not witness: curses. You didn't want to complain about it, though. In truth, you had nothing to complain about. A change of scenery was primarily needed anyway. 

        You explored the school on your own for the time being. It was extensive and detailed, almost like a shrine. You felt overwhelmed by all the different sights: the dorms, the classrooms, and even battlegrounds with charred marks from previous spars. Your mind wandered to the cool things the Jujutsu Sorcerers could cast and do in general. You felt excited for the future here, which promised much better than your past in Sendai, Miyagi.

        Your solitary walk came to an end as you heard the voices of other students nearby. "They shouldn't be too far now," said a male student to the group. He had flat, blonde hair and a stoic expression. "Is that them in the background?" asked the female student with a cigarette in her mouth. She exhaled black clouds of smoke, which the male student swatted away with annoyance. "Yo!" shouted the white-haired student, who leaned on another student with long hair tied in a bun, his bangs covering his face. He was munching on a pastry. "Over here~!" he waved eagerly. "Lower your voice, Gojo. You're too loud," scolded the blonde-haired student. "They can hear us just fine from here, so the yelling is unnecessary."

        "Oh, come on, Nanami," the white-haired student, now named Gojo, complained to the other. "I'm not that loud. Besides, I bet they didn't notice we were heading their way, so it's essential!" he rolled his eyes, which incredibly called your attention. There was more banter between them back and forth until they finally stopped before you. The female student leaned to look at you better and even separated from the group to circle you, eyeing you from head to toe. "You're the new student, I'm assuming?" she inquired, expecting your answer. You couldn't help but be shy. These were your classmates? They are certainly a colorful bunch. "Ah... yeah, I am the new student. Hello. It's nice to meet you." you bowed in greetings. "Ieiri Shoko," she finally introduced herself. "A pleasure."

        "Oh, are we introducing ourselves already? Don't mind if I do!" spoke the now-called 'Gojo' student. "I'm Satoru Gojo, and this is my best friend, Suguru Getou! We're the strongest here," he stated, full of pride. "Satoru, let me introduce myself to them properly, please... You're embarrassing me." the tall, black-haired student, now named Suguru Geto, raised a hand to cover half of his face, an expression of mild annoyance washing over his semblance. There was a dramatic, offended-like gasp from the other. "There is no way I embarrass you! Come on, it was cool, you know it. First impressions, right?" he poked playfully at the others' side, making him recoil and push the others' faces away with his bare hand. "Satoru..." he grumbled. "We're taking this somewhere else when we're done here." You couldn't tell if it was a joke or a genuine threat. Talking about first impressions... How insufferable is that white-haired guy? "Kento Nanami," spoke the blonde-haired student, extending a hand for a firm handshake, to which you happily obliged, exchanged your name, and did a proper greeting.

        You enjoyed everyone's loud, bubbly company, even if it was random and overwhelming. After introductions, they helped you explore the school and even brought you to your assigned room. Nanami and Shoko helped you get your bedroom set up with all the packages you brought, and Getou and Gojo told you stories about what Jujutsu Sorcerers are tasked to do in their daily lives. You learned that Sorcerers are given a grade and that to get up the ranks, you'd need to be recommended by your teacher to become the same level they both were: First Grade to Special Grade Sorcerers. You were inspired by their bond to become even stronger than before and to be able to help non-sorcerers live happy lives in Japan. After all, that's what Jujutsu Sorcerers do, right?

────୨ৎ────

Some months have passed since you moved into the Tokyo Jujutsu High School. You've been sent to missions with supervisors and occasionally spar with friends. You've met with interesting people, like Haibara and Mei Mei, and had meaningful conversations with them to kill time when nothing was going on. You also developed some affection towards the building and the people inside, who were your colleagues, especially Suguru Getou and Satoru Gojo. Their friendship was on a cosmic level; that's what you usually thought about, and you were grateful to be part of their adventures.

        "Yo," Suguru greeted you from the end of the hallway. "Oh, Suguru!" you greeted happily, facing him. "What's going on?" you inquired, your eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and excitement. Conversations with him were delightful, and you couldn't help but make it known that you loved his company.

        "Satoru and I were tasked with some Special Grade level mission," he answered.

        "Special Grade level mission?!" your eyes nearly bulged out of your head as you heard him utter that sentence. "How long are you two going away?" you asked with a kicked puppy tone. You surely will miss them either way; you deem them your closest and best friends.

      "I'm not sure," he pondered. "but we'll be back soon enough. I'm sad you're not going with us, though." He extended a hand and gently caressed your head. "I'm going to miss you," he frowned. "Oh, I will miss you and Satoru, too." You shared the sentiment.

        "I'm going to prepare with Satoru now. I'll see you around." Getou bid you farewell as he continued walking down the hallway, in which you waved eagerly a goodbye towards him. "Please stay safe on your journey! And tell Gojo not to die!" Such a statement earned a laugh from the other. "Sure, sure. I'll go do that." 

        That was the last time you'd converse with him so healthily.

────୨ৎ────

  It's been months since you've seen Haibara, Nanami, Gojo and Getou. They had returned from their Special Grade mission, and you returned from a Grade 1 curse execution mission. You were tired of all you've gone through, but that doesn't matter now; you're back in the school, walking down the hallways, stretching your sore arms, and rubbing your tired eyes. It was still broad daylight, but your body said otherwise: You need a nap. Before you vanished for the day, you looked for any signs of Getou and Gojo. You've been dying to converse with them. They were practically your energy recharge. 

        You unexpectedly encountered Gojo walking down the hallway, dribbling a basketball and humming. Seeing him there instead of in the gym struck you as odd. "Hey, Gojo! It's unusual not to see you with Getou. Where is he?" you greeted and asked, catching his attention. "Oh, hey! I'm not sure where Getou is. I'm looking for him. I think he's taking a shower or something," he replied, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his crystal-blue eyes. You always found his sudden gaze mesmerizing, and he would respond with a mischievous grin. "I missed you two. It took you guys a long time to finish that Special Grade mission, huh?" You stopped beside him, and his expression shifted from confusion to shock. "Who told you that?" he inquired. "Suguru did. Was I not supposed to know that?"

        He pouted. "Huh? Suguru tells you about our adventures, too?" He groaned dramatically. "Oh, I'm not allowed to know what my best friends are up to?" You crossed your arms. "What?! No, I mean, like, you weren't supposed to know about that. It was supposed to be just us two. Don't get the wrong idea!" Gojo defended himself. It made you giggle. "Not funny." He poked your side, which made you cringe. "Hey!"

        You continued your walk with him, conversing about what had happened in his previous mission with Getou. Some things were not explained or told, but you admired it either way. Their chemistry was amazing; there are no other words to describe it. While you two conversed, you also searched for Getou. You found him getting out of the shower. His eyes were heavy and tired, and you noticed he had lost weight, but you assumed it was exhaustion from his reoccurring missions and the after-effect of the Special Grade mission. He continued to have regular conversations with everyone and went through his daily life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

        If only you knew.

────୨ৎ────

        The rest of your memories were a blur. The only significant thing that stood out from them was Getou destroying an entire village and defecting from the Jujutsu Sorcery world. The news broke throughout the school like wildfire. Getou's closest friends were hit worse than anybody else, and you were one of them, much like Gojo was. You didn't know how to cope with the loss. Memories of you spending time with Getou, alone or with the others, flooded your mind. Thousands of tears were shed, and items were thrown around your room. The feeling of betrayal was still fresh in your heart, but now you regretted ever feeling like you did before. 

        You felt as if the world was taking everybody away from you. Nanami graduated and left, and Haibara passed away. Shoko distanced herself from everyone, and Gojo vanished to go back to back to missions with no moments of rest. You didn't know what to do. The school you once loved was now a cage of memories you wished to escape. One day, you vanished away from the school. You didn't warn Yaga or anybody. You were just... gone.

        And here you were, talking to Gojo again after 12 years, mourning such a significant loss. You laughed about cute, sweet, and sad memories. You never noticed that it began to snow and the sun had fully set, the night sky sparkling with stars and the moon ever so gracefully hugging you with its moonlight.

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 (You're here!) || Pt. 3

Divider made by Celcero.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hot take: Cooper Howard was an avid drug user before the bombs. Boyfriend was a big Hollywood star; all that pressure and you’re telling me that he’d be clean? My guy was prolly seeing more snow than Alaska.

Another Anon with 100% correct opinions who deserves a kiss straight on the mouth. Mwah.

But also...do you guys have backdoor access to my drafts? Yet again, someone comes into the ask box discussing a topic I was already thinking heavily on for a long-form piece; definitely touching on a lot of this in the next installments of Duplicity. Mister Howard doesn't deal with stress in the healthiest of ways. I also have a follow-up to this question in the inbox and I'm so glad you sent separate asks, actually, because I have a ton to say about this topic.

Substance use was absolutely a cornerstone of Cooper Howard's life long before the bombs dropped.

His vices of choice are primarily alcohol and cocaine (and cigarettes, obviously, but that's a societal addiction in the world he comes from), the former especially. Cooper is the definition of a high-functioning alcoholic. While he did dabble a bit more in party drugs when he and Barb were younger, when he was first starting to become famous and make good money, he more or less gave them up when Janey came along.

The coke use started as a social thing, a curiosity and a fun enhancer that he, and even Barb, occasionally, would dabble in. While he'd never pressure her to use (well, not that much, at least...), the few times she did are pretty fond memories to him, even after they split. She's always been a pretty straight-laced, serious, and high-achieving person, and he loved seeing her open up any time she decided to let her hair down. Plus, the sex after they got home would always be extra wild.

Addiction runs in the family on Cooper's side, so he grew up around people who drank a lot, and began drinking rather young himself as a result. He's been a fan of the sauce for a long time, far before his marriage or even his time in the army. Once they'd made it to Los Angeles, social drinking became a pretty big part of the Howard's lives, both using alcohol and sharing drinks with important contacts as a way to network their way into better opportunities. Barb isn't nearly as much of a drinker at home, save for an occasional glass of wine with dinner or a celebratory cocktail to top off a big accomplishment.

Coop's relationship with alcohol changed after he returned from his deployment; for the first time in his life, he began to more frequently use booze to chase away feelings he didn't want to feel, thoughts he didn't want to have. However, he kept a pretty solid handle on his habit for a long time, at least in terms of keeping it a secret. Janey's birth made it easy to keep his consumption to a minimum for several years. However, as his career began to decline as he aged (and as Vault-Tec became a more and more prominent presence in his life), he turned back to the bottle. When his stress began to peak, he started using cocaine more and more to "take the edge off".

He gets quite defensive (even aggressive, depending on who you are and how hard you push) if you start asking him too many questions about his substance use. Doesn't appreciate the implication that he has a problem he can't control. Cooper is already painfully aware of the number of things in his life that he has no control over and refuses to add another to the list. His manager, a pretty good friend with good intentions, very casually mentioned him possibly checking into rehab exactly once and he absolutely blew his lid. The idea of the public knowing about his struggles, judging him, laughing at him is more than he can bear, and that fear only intensifies after he spends over a year being mocked for his divorce and career backslide.

Besides, if he went to rehab, Barb would know, and that idea humiliates him. As far as he knows, he's hidden his problem from her for a long time.

Barb sees the signs much more clearly than he thinks, though. He comes home from parties she didn't attend incredibly late, teeth-grittingly on-edge and horny, but can't get it up properly due to the blow. Has the lingering smell of whiskey on his breath when she kisses him in the morning and conveniently always has a coffee waiting for her so she doesn't ask for a sip of his. Towards the end of their marriage, she finds a couple of flasks in places so obscure that they can only be hidden stashes, implying he's drinking so often that he feels the need to have near-constant access to alcohol.

Cooper's been a poor sleeper since his time in the service. He came back changed in more ways than one, but that was the most noticeable. However, he acts different when he's awake from insomnia versus when he's awake because he's fucked up. A regular night of bad sleep includes him quietly curled up in a chair, studying a script or watching the television turned down low as he tries his best to will himself into some rest.

When he's high, though, he has too much energy to sit still, so sometimes she'll wake up to him finishing up some household task that absolutely could have waited, or even doing things they pay people to do. She finds it hard to believe that he, for example, did four loads of laundry overnight or gave his car a meticulous tune-up because he was just that bored, despite his insistence. Once, she found him out in the back yard in the middle of the night, shooting live ammunition at a target and murmuring to himself. Though she'd stayed up and lingered at the window for hours watching over him, for the first time ever in their marriage, she'd been afraid of him, too unsure of how he'd react to approach.

She hadn't known it at the time, of course, but they'd be divorced within two years of that night.

His addiction issues absolutely came up in court, though they weren't the focus of any of the discussions. Barb withholds some information. While she fails to truly grasp all of the reasons her marriage ended, and therefore goes into the divorce angry and wanting to get back at him for his perceived rejections, she doesn't want to completely drag his name through the mud. But she still mentions a few aspects of it, namely those she feels could impact Janey. Cooper takes this very personally, especially when their custody split is decided and he's dissatisfied with the outcome.

After the split, when he no longer sees his family every day and spends significantly more time alone, his use increases, as does his tolerance. All the while, his ability to hide his dependence slowly wears away. Unfortunately, he has no idea what's in store for him in the future.

If he did, though, it'd probably only drive him to use more.