#bring on the fan fiction

[saramelaniemoon]

[meerphanim]

{ Click/Tap for better quality. }

And the day we became one.

[therealjomarch]

RE: my last post

Fan fic writers get busy. I need alllll the Nosferatu fan fics.

Tag me in them.

[regicidal-defenestration]

They just don't make the Doctor pregnant by putting a child in his leg like they used to

[timblrdrake]

sorry for thinking this was a safe space @candy-penrose

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Future Chapters : Available on Ao3

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 1: Your eyes are swallowing me

Chapter title is lyrics from "Sleepwalking"

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I'd be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed him. 

So maybe I did take a little longer to get ready when I knew he'd be around; maybe my skirt was suddenly pulled up just that little bit higher than usual; maybe I loosened a button or two, but it's not like I was delusional enough to believe I ever had a shot with the man.

I was just an assistant. 

I did the menial tasks that usually went unnoticed. But sometimes when I came back with food he'd flash me the most wicked smile as he took it off me.

"Ta, love", and a shiver would run through my body.

It was the night after a big set in London, an apartment style hotel room had been booked for the whole band with a shared common space. The place had clearly been picked as a bit of a party accommodation to celebrate the tour. It was quite posh, lavish furniture, open planning, and a great view. All the things you'd expect of an expensive hotel. 

Everyone had gotten a bit too drunk tonight, and it was part of my job to make sure they got to bed to catch a flight tomorrow, so I was the only sober one here. 

It was also my job to make sure the alcohol kept flowing, the right guests were let in, and taxis were ordered. 

Despite how busy I was, I kept catching myself staring at him. I couldn't help myself, he was always such a delightful mess after a concert; dishevelled hair, smeared eyeliner, a bit sweaty – a wonderful mix of tired and happy. Essentially he always came off the stage looking like he'd just finished having some really good sex.

I shook my head, realising I'd been staring again.

Hopefully he hadn’t noticed.

The night went by in a blur of busy tasks. Suddenly it was four in the morning, I had just finished getting everyone to bed and all the guests out of there. I sighed deeply at the state of the place and began the daunting task of cleaning up. 

That's when I saw him across the room.

The lights were dimmed low as I’d been strategically turning them off throughout the night in the hopes that it would make everyone sleepier, so I was only able to make out the silhouette of a man.

He was sprawled on the sofa, legs spread and leaned back, but I could tell it was Oli – his long, fluffy hair is unmistakable.

"Oh fuck, Oli you scared the living shit out of me."

That was probably the longest sentence I'd ever dared say to him, as I was usually too flustered to form proper sentences, but the sheer exhaustion from the night and the adrenaline from surprise got the better of me.

I heard a laugh from the dark figure on the sofa, "Sorry love I didn't mean to scare you, but I'm not ready to sleep just yet." You could hear the words had been spoken with a lazy smile.

Suddenly I was very aware of the fact that we were all alone, and he sounded... 

No, I didn’t even dare think it.

He's just tired and drunk, surely that's the only reason he sounds so...

"R-right. Just remember we've got a flight tomorrow."

I could see his head tilt to the side as he contemplated what I’d said, but he clearly decided he didn't give a fuck, as his response came unbothered, completely ignoring my comment, "Get me another drink will you?"

Suddenly the walls felt as if they were closing in. I was nervous to say the least. I had never been alone with him before, and for some reason it felt weirdly intimate despite him being all the way across the room.

I didn't know how to respond beyond simply following his order, so I shakily turned around and walked over to the dining room table where all the drink bottles were lined up, while being entirely too aware of his gaze on me from behind. 

There was a rustle of fabric like he’d gotten off the sofa, followed shortly by the sound of his footsteps behind me by the table. 

I didn't get a chance to properly digest what was happening before his hands were firmly gripping my hips, making me gasp, the impact almost making me fall forward. Instead I instinctively braced myself against the table, nearly knocking over the half empty liquor bottles there.

My heart began racing, threatening to jump out of my chest, as I felt his hard cock clearly through the fabrics between us, pressing against my ass as I was pinned to the table. His hand quickly moved to my throat to prevent me from falling forwards further, as if he didn’t want me bent over, using it to guide my head close to his.

I was surrounded by him.

His scent, his hair falling into my view, his lips against my ear, his breath against my cheek, the hand on my throat possessive and firm. I was contorted, pinned painfully between the table and his warm body behind me as I was being held up by his grip.

His lips parted gently against my ear, and spoke in a tone I can only describe as carnal, "I get lonely you see, and I've noticed you noticing me. You want me, yeah?”

He had noticed after all.

I swallowed, hard.

“Will you nod for me love if you want me."

My heartbeat promptly moved between my legs.

I do want him – oh god do I want him. My whole body felt like it was on fire.

But his request was so much more than a search for knowledge of whether I wanted him or not, it was an inquiry of approval, a probing of whether I’d allow this to happen, or if we part ways here before anything further happens.

I nodded against his hand around my throat, causing his breath to speed up.

His lips spread into a smile against my ear, "Let’s have some fun then."

I was wearing a simple, strappy, mini dress so his hair fell onto my bare shoulders as he kissed my neck, his warm breath fanned my skin. My eyes shut from the delightful sensations, and I began mindlessly moving my hips against him, causing his grip on me to tighten.

"Ah, you like that don't you?"

I nodded again, probably a bit too eagerly. 

He chuckled, which I felt as a puff of warm air against my neck more than heard. His mouth returns to my ear, speaking lazily like a predator toying with its prey, "You're so fucking desperate for me, aren't ya?" 

My eyes flew open. I nodded again, slower this time, feeling exposed.

The truth is that I am desperate; desperate enough daydream about him constantly, to touch myself at night when I was all alone, imagining all ways I want to be fucked by him. In fact, I’d grown quite attached to using all my perverted thoughts about the man as a distraction from my life, from everything I’ve been through lately.

From pain.

"I bet you're soaking, I bet you have been all night." His grip on my hip relaxed, turning into a caress, moving towards the hem of my dress, lifting it slightly as his fingers trailed closer to my pussy. 

His voice darkened and intensified, "I reckon you've ruined your underwear just being near me." 

Then his hand finally reached my pooling wetness and my body immediately went electric, my knees buckled and my mouth fell open with a gasping, desperate moan as my hands mindlessly grabbed at his strong arm holding my throat to steady myself.

The hand that had just caused my brain to short circuit from a simple touch to my core, quickly retracted away to yank me back up from slumping over. 

"Sh, sh, sh, you're gonna have to be quiet or you're gonna wake the lads, can’t have that, can we?" He whispered playfully.

I just wanted him back between my legs, so I spoke, in such a desperate tone that I surprised myself, "I–I'm sorry, p--please, please don't stop."

His grip on me loosened to pull the skirt of my dress up to my waist, and slide my underwear down. I felt them pop over my ass before falling to my ankles on the floor. 

"We don't need these anymore." He muttered behind me as he returned to feel my pussy, this time without the soaking fabric stopping him. I felt his forehead on my shoulder as he moved along my folds with intent, his breath coming faster.

"To be honest with you love, I'm pretty fucking desperate too." Then he pushed two fingers into me and I was suddenly fighting for dear life not to moan. 

I gripped the table again to stay upright, willing my body to behave. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop.

His mouth replaced his forehead on my shoulder, kissing me with parted lips, biting slightly every so often, his hips pushed back into mine, causing me to feel his cock against my ass again – now only his fabrics between us.

I felt untethered, like I’d been transported somewhere else, into some wild fantasy; this couldn't possibly be happening. 

I turned my head slightly, searching, wanting to kiss him. His mouth moved to my neck, then my ear, then my cheek, leaving breathy kisses and bites where he wanted to.

Right when I thought he was going to turn me around to kiss him, he removed the fingers and placed the now soaking hand firmly on the back of my neck, pushing me forward. I gasped in surprise and disappointment at the hand once again disappearing from my pussy, but the grip was strong and I could only obey. I pushed the bottles in front of me forward as I was bent over so they wouldn't be knocked over. 

The shock of the sudden movements brought me back to reality and I started blushing. I was currently bent over a table, bare ass and pussy exposed to Oli Sykes, in the middle of a shared common room where any of the band mates could walk in at any point. This was insane.

But I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

"Fuck." he said under his breath behind me, "You're a vision…" Then I heard more fabric rustling, and suddenly something a lot warmer and bigger was at my entrance. 

How was I supposed to not moan? How was I supposed to not… 

And then he started pushing into me. 

I bit down on my lip so hard it would probably bruise, clawing at the table. A low moan came from behind me as he pushed deeper, to the hilt. He stopped there for a moment and leaned over me; I could feel his heat, the rising and falling of his chest, his laboured breathing against me, his soaking hand still possessively on the back of my neck. 

"You're doing great love, stay just like that, don't make a sound, yeah?" He whispered close to my ear.

That's when he started pumping, and I once again was transported to some other reality. I couldn't help it, I was moving, I felt wild, I wanted to scream, and suddenly I’d lost control again and another moan escaped my lips.

As soon as I did he stopped, his hand that had been pinning me to the table wrapped around my neck, leaving all the flesh there wet with my own juices, before pulling me back up against him.

His lips were back at my ear, hair back in my vision. “What a shame, you were doing so well for me.”

He pulled away and I felt him slip out of me, causing a pang of sadness to wash over me, thinking it's over, but in the same motion he turned me around, grabbing me by the hips to sit me on the table before him. He spread my legs to step between them, before our eyes met.

And suddenly it felt as if time stopped.

He is gorgeous. 

Dishevelled hair falling haphazardly around his face, lips slightly parted, the tattoos creeping up his neck, framing his face. His eyes were shining bright in the dim light, glassy but still intense. There was so much hunger in them, yet so much sadness.

The words slipped out of me without a thought, barely a whisper, “...Are you ok?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he searched my face, clearly not quite sure how to respond, like I'd thrown him off. You could tell he was intoxicated, as I don't think he'd be this honest with me, essentially a stranger, in a sober state – nor this forward. 

He spoke softly, “Tonight I wanted to throw everything away, just say fuck it; does anything really matter? I'm supposed to have my fucking shit together, yet all I want to do–” He looked away, shaking his head as he cut himself off. 

Silence filled the air around us for a long moment as he was lost in thought, then suddenly his eyes shot back to mine, speaking slowly, thoughtfully, “I've had my eye on you all night, and you look just as wrapped up in temptation as I feel. I just need an escape and I have a feeling you do too, don't you?”

His vagueness didn't matter, I knew what he was talking about, and I felt it too; the relentless pressure of life was crushing and there was a reason I couldn't keep my eyes off of him, why I wanted him so badly. Everyone could see there's something tortured about Oli, something passionate and wild that could barely be contained. 

And while I didn’t like to acknowledge it, I could relate. I also wanted to just let go, be free. Whatever that meant.

And I wanted to go there with him.

I reached out to touch his face, he flinched at the intimate gesture but didn't resist.

My mouth opened to speak, but I couldn’t find the words so I just nodded instead.

His expression softened and he nodded in return; a silent understanding that neither of us fully knew why the other needed this, but it didn’t matter. We didn’t need to know the intimate details about each other's pain to know we’re both desperate for some relief.

His eyes fell to my lips, “I just want to lose myself in you for a little while...”

Lose myself. 

Yes that’s it – a nice little escape from it all. I could feel a sombre smile spread across my lips. With the caress on his cheek I tried to guide him into a kiss, but instead he moved to my neck, tasting my juices still lingering there. 

He made a low rumbling noise in his chest then moved back to my ear, “You taste so sweet, love. Now, let's see if we can keep you quiet for this next bit.”

Pulling away he met my gaze again, this time with a faint devilish smile playing on his lips as he placed his hand over my mouth to encourage me to remain silent.

I didn’t resist, I wanted nothing more than to feel him inside me again.

It hit me that I am not sure exactly where my limits were, as long as he just continued using me.

Using me. 

That’s what it was, that’s what I craved.

I just want him to use me.

While this was news to me, I didn't want to think about this revelation now. The last thing I wanted to do right now was psychoanalyse myself. Thankfully I didn’t have to try very hard to shake the thought off, because Oli pulled me right back to the moment as his less busy hand slipped between us, guiding his cock back to me.

“I'll take things a bit slower at first, yeah? And you will stay quiet this time.” 

He was nodding his head while holding my gaze steadily, clearly expecting me to nod back in return.

So I did, looking nervous as I didn’t fully trust myself.

“Fuck, don't make that face love, I just want to start pounding to watch you struggle.”

Despite his last words, he entered me slowly. His eyes darken as he pulled me closer to him. Then he was moving inside me, that wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his gaze lazily roamed me. When his eyes came back to meet mine I could see something wild flicker behind them, like a promise of things to come.

Yes.

He was moving faster, testing me to see if I could keep quiet. My nails were digging into his shoulders to retain control, but I was doing it, only the slightest of noises escaped me.

“That's it, just like that.”

He looked at the hand covering my mouth, the tip of his tongue playing against his teeth. The grip loosened and two fingers pushed playfully into my mouth, his breath catching at the sight, appearing positively feral. His movements stopped for a moment, before he thrust into me, hard, his smile turning into a more serious expression, as if he was at some type of breaking point.

As if he was really sick of containing himself.

“Fuck it.” He said in a deep tone before removing the fingers that had been feeling my tongue, replace them with his lips. His arms wrapped around me, kissing me deeply, moaning into my mouth as he began thrusting harder.

Our hands are everywhere, grabbing, pulling, pushing, clawing.

I felt fingers slip into my hair to yank my head back in order to bite my neck, and I couldn't help it, I whimpered in response.

But he didn't care, if anything it spurred him on.

After a moment he pulled away to push me down on the table once more, this time facing him.

I looked up at him; he looked dangerous, unleashed, almost animalistic. His hair was everywhere, his mouth was open, panting heavily, and I could barely see his eyes. The energy was infectious, I was smothered in it as I writhe on the table.

Yes, this is it. This is what I need.

He pulled the top of my dress and bra down in one swift and painful motion, his hand gripping my throat agonisingly hard.

Hard enough for normal breaths to become difficult.

A rush of adrenaline washes over me, a confusing yet delightful mix of fear and arousal. He must have noticed, as his grip on my neck loosened slightly, letting me know he was still in there somewhere, despite appearing almost possessed. 

With that knowledge I let go. 

I clawed at him, wrapped my legs around him. He was so warm and solid, and I felt as if I was drowning in it; in him. Our movements became a blur of pain and pleasure. 

Somewhere in the distance I heard glass bottles clanging, then one after another fell to the floor. 

Again, he didn’t care. 

The world had fallen away and it was only us and our ecstasy here.

His head lowered as his movements came slower, with more intent. In a deep, nearly unrecognisable voice he murmurs, “I'm close.”

Another rush of emotions washed over me. 

A certainty, an almost primal need. I spoke my wishes through clenched teeth in a strangled and desperate tone, “Cum in me.”

His grip on me tightens further, this time constricting my breathing entirely. He falls forward on top of me, burying his face in the crook of my neck next to the vice grip he held on my throat. My fingers dig into his hair, pulling him closer. His breath became ragged as I felt him filling me up with every thrust. 

After a moment I hear some of it drip onto the floor beneath us.

The grip on my neck loosened and I inhaled sharply.

We lay like this for a minute before coming back to reality, letting our heart rates slow down.

I was bewildered, yet amazed. 

What had just happened? I felt like I’d unlocked a whole new part of myself, a longing that I didn’t quite understand yet, something simmering under the surface for what felt like years. 

Something in me craved the danger, the fear, the pain, to be used. Like there was some depraved form of freedom in giving my body and mind to someone and letting them have their way with me. And not to mention; how can something make me feel this incredibly good, without having even reached orgasm from it?

In all the confusion, one thing felt completely unwavering;

I wanted more.

Thoughts were swimming around in my head when a gentle caress grazed my throat. It was a sweet gesture, the polar opposite of the aggression I’d just experienced during our shared bliss. My brows furrowed in confusion for a moment before he raised himself up, our faces only inches apart. I studied his expression, he appeared worried – questioning.

A soft, almost boyish voice spoke, “Are you alright?”

Such simple words, but the question wasn’t. 

I could tell he wanted to know if I felt unsafe, if I was in pain, and if what transpired between us had crossed a line. If he had crossed a line.

My face blooms into a tired smile, “Yes. I’m a bit confused, but I’m good.”

His expression softened some but not fully, and he started searching my neck and chest for any signs of injury, but I grabbed his hands to stop him. 

“Really, I’m okay. I didn’t know I could feel like this. I-I don’t fully understand it…“ I paused to try and find the words, “Tonight you’ve done more for me than I could–” 

He cuts me off with a kiss, much more tender than our previous ones. After a moment he pulls away to speak, “Oh love, you have no idea.”

I continued smiling, I couldn’t stop, and his features mimicked mine. 

My words came sheepishly, “Maybe we could do this again?” 

Right as I finished speaking another audible drop of cum was heard hitting the floor beneath us. We both exhale a small laugh – an acknowledgement of how bizarre the situation was.

He brushed some hair away from my face, “How about we have a little chat tomorrow, yeah? When we’re both a bit more clear headed.”

I couldn’t tell if he just wanted a way out, or if he wanted to make sure I was really okay with what had happened tonight. So I just nodded.

“Alright, let’s get you sorted then shall we?” He helped me into a sitting position and attempted to adjust my clothes a bit, as if I wasn’t the picture of freshly fucked; one of my dress straps had torn, my hair was completely messed up, with equally messy makeup, and of course – literally dripping cum. 

I had to stifle another laugh.

He pulled away, adjusting his own clothes, and shot me one last smile before slipping back to his room.

I sat there for some time, taking in the mess all around me. Almost all the bottles were on the floor, with one of them having shattered. 

How had I not noticed? 

There wasn’t a chance everyone in the band hadn’t heard us. 

This will be awkward tomorrow.

... Continue reading on Ao3

[guess-i-do-art]

It’s fun being in a fandom that literally doesn’t exist

If there is anybody out there that enjoys the book series Upside Down Magic by Sarah Mlynowski, Lauren Myracle, and Emily Jenkins, please please make yourself known because I have been alone for too long

Dritten! 💜

[coaarchived]

Just a quick reminder!

There is no wrong way to enjoy a media.

Whether you are in it for the story, the characters, the gameplay, the community, whatever your priority may be— there is no wrong way to love a piece of work.

Yes, even if you make "inaccurate" headcanons for characters you love.

Yes, even if you are more into the aesthetics than any deeper meaning.

Yes, even if you only engage with it through playthroughs or video analysis other secondary sources.

In the end, you and all the other fans are together in loving and supporting a piece of work. If somebody enjoys the content in a way you personally don't want to see, simply block and move on! The only "wrong" way to be a fan is to be one who is malicious and hurtful to others and to real people.

[croxxbow13]

Not Tonight

Summary: Daryl and Rosita were both affected by Denise’s death, whether they want to talk about it or not. So they look for comfort in the bottle of a whiskey bottle.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: takes place immediately following Denise’s death in Season 6 Episode 14: Twice As Far. During the Alexandria era, right before the Savior arc. Rewatched the episode last night and seeing these two together and the opportunity just presented itself. I feel like they deserved it lol

Warnings: 18+ MDNI - language, consensual sex, alcohol consumption, slight angst.

I asked you to come with me because you're brave like my brother and sometimes you actually make me feel safe.

Daryl’s lungs burned. His arms ached, every muscle pulling tight with each motion as he drove the shovel into the dirt. He felt the beads of sweat as they rolled down his brow and into his eyes. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

And I wanted you here because you're alone. Probably for the first time in your life.

His fingers clenched around the wooden handle, rough and splintered, gripping it tight like it was the only thing holding him together. Carol stood across from him. He could feel her eyes on him, but she didn’t speak. She knew he wouldn’t talk about it even if she asked.

And because you're stronger than you think you are, which gives me hope that maybe I can be, too.

Denise’s words played through his mind as he shoveled harder. Faster. As if he could dig the sound of them from his memory.

He gritted his teeth and shoveled another heap into the hole. Then another. The late afternoon sun was hot on his back and he welcomed the feeling of the way it burned through his shirt. The ache in his muscles gave him something to focus on.

Something other than the gnawing weight in his chest.

And it makes me sick that you guys aren't even trying because you're strong and you're smart and you're both really good people, and if you don't wake up... and face your…

The angry growl that rumbled up from his chest sounded too far away in his own ears as he threw the shovel to the ground, the metal clanging off the dirt and stone. His breath was ragged as he stormed off towards the house. He had to get out of here. Away from… this. The walls that were supposed to be a promise of safety and security felt like a prison cell. One that he had to escape. Now. He didn’t want to stay in this cage.

Not tonight.

The streets of Alexandria were quiet. Too damn quiet. Usually, people were out, talking on their porches, walking around. Now, it was like the whole place was holding its breath.

Daryl barely noticed. His boots hit the pavement hard, his steps quick and focused. He took the porch steps two at a time and pushed the front door open without bothering to shut it. He wasn’t staying long enough for that to matter anyways.

Inside was just as quiet.

He moved straight to his room, peeling his blood and dirt stained shirt over his head and tossing it into the corner before grabbing a fresh t-shirt from the pile on the chair and pulling it on.

The bottle he had come back for was exactly where he’d left it the night he’d put it there– shoved to the back of the kitchen counter. His fingers tightened around the neck of the glass as he turned for the door.

His crossbow was slung over his shoulder in one fluid motion, a practiced habit. He was already stepping through the doorway, ready to keep moving, when something caught his eye.

Rosita.

She was walking up the steps, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket, her head tipped slightly downward like she was deep in thought. The way she held herself– like she was looking for something, or maybe running from it– was too familiar.

"Hey," she said quietly, but questioningly. Like she didn’t expect him to be there.

Daryl barely lifted his head. "Hey," he mumbled back, gripping the bottle a little tighter.

She stopped on the step just below him, rocking back slightly on her heel. Her eyes flicked over him, reading him the way she always did—quick, precise, like she could see straight through whatever bullshit he was trying to put up.

"You good?" she asked, tilting her chin up just slightly, like she already knew the answer.

He worked his lip between his teeth for a moment before nodding, his gaze dropping to the porch.

Rosita let out a breath, shifting her weight, and glancing at the bottle in his hand. She made a small, unimpressed noise in the back of her throat, not quite a scoff but close.

"Where you going?"

Daryl shrugged, adjusting his grip on the bottle. “Don’t know.”

She studied him for a second, then tipped her head. “Mind if I come?”

He finally looked at her. She didn’t look away.

He could’ve said no. Could’ve walked past her, left her standing there. But he didn’t.

There was something else in her expression that he didn’t catch before. Something sad… not quite a plea, but something buried deep below the surface.

“Nah” he muttered.

Rosita gave a small nod, a barely-there smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, and then she moved. She didn’t wait for him, didn’t ask again—just stepped off the porch, heading toward the truck like she’d already decided. Like it wasn’t up for debate.

Daryl let out a breath and followed.

Neither of them spoke as they walked out of the gate and climbed into the truck. The engine rumbled to life, and just like that, they were gone.

—

The truck sat in a clearing on the edge of the quarry. What was once filled and brimming with walkers now just housed a few dozen stragglers wandering aimlessly around the bottom. Their dirty, dust-covered figures moving in and out of shadows in the quickly fading sun.

Daryl stood by the back of the truck, his arms resting over the side as he swirled the contents in the bottle before turning it up. The whiskey burned its way down, warm and steady, already starting to blur his edges.

He welcomed it.

Rosita sat on the hood, one knee bent, her boot propped against the metal. She didn’t say anything, just watched him as he took another swig before passing the bottle her way. She took it without hesitation, tipping it back, letting the burn settle into her chest before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The air between them was thick with something unspoken, but neither of them moved to fill the silence. The only sounds were the distant rustling of trees and the distant, hollow moans of the walkers below.

Daryl exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. The alcohol was working its way through him, dulling things just enough to take the edge off. He stared out over the quarry, watching the way the last bit of daylight slipped behind the treeline.

He kicked a rock, watching it skitter and disappear over the edge, a small cloud of dust rising up under his boot.

Rosita let out a quiet breath, rolling the bottle between her palms. She hesitated for a moment before she spoke.

“I saw him go into Sasha’s house.”

Her voice was steady, but there was a roughness underneath it, something raw. She took another swig from the bottle.

Daryl didn’t react. Just let the words sit there, pressing down like an extra weight on his shoulders.

Rosita scoffed under her breath, shaking her head slightly. “I guess I already knew.” She said, quieter this time.

She walked over to stand beside him, peering over the edge, her eyes tracking the slow-moving walkers below. Without looking at him, she reached out and handed him the bottle.

Daryl took it carefully and lifted it to his lips. The whiskey burned on the way down, but he welcomed it, letting it settle deep in his chest.

Rosita crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one leg. “Guess I was just stupid enough to hope I was wrong.”

Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling through his nose. He didn’t have anything to say to that. Not anything that’d make a damn bit of difference anyways.

For a while, neither of them spoke. They just stood there and appreciated the rare silence as they passed the bottle back and forth.

The night was creeping in, the last bit of light stretching thin across the trees. The air was cooling, but the whiskey kept the warmth settled in his gut. Daryl blinked slow, his ears buzzing, a steady thrumming setting in behind his temples. Not enough to knock him down, but enough to make his limbs feel heavy, his edges dull.

He let out a quiet breath, then turned back towards the truck, moving to the tailgate. He climbed up, sitting on the edge with his legs hanging off, his fingers rubbing absentmindedly at the glass bottle before taking another drink.

Rosita stayed where she was for a moment, watching him. Then, without a word, she walked over, stopping in front of him. She tilted her head, watching him take another drink. “I was gonna leave,” she admitted. “After everything. Just… go.”

Daryl didn’t look at her, just fidgeted with the bottle in his hands, his thumbnail picking at the edge of the label.

He knew the feeling.

“But I didn’t,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “And now, I don’t even know why.”

She reached out for the bottle, and as she took it from him, her fingers brushed against his—just for a second, just enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin against his knuckles.

Daryl didn’t move, didn’t pull away. Just watched as she brought the bottle to her lips, tilting her head back for a slow drink. He shifted his weight on the tailgate. “Ain’t always so easy to just walk away.”

Rosita smirked, but it was small and tired. “No. It’s not.” She looked at him for a moment before she asked, “You ever gonna leave?”

Daryl worked his jaw, staring past her toward the treeline. He didn’t answer right away, just let the question settle, rolling it over in his mind.

Rosita didn’t push. Just waited, quiet, studying him like she was trying to read something written beneath his skin. The slight sway in her stance made it obvious that she was feeling the effects of the liquor as much as he was.

Finally, he exhaled, slow and measured. “Don’t recon I got anywhere else to go.” His voice was low, rough around the edges.

Rosita held his gaze for a second longer, then gave a small nod. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Same.”

She took another sip, then handed the bottle back. This time, when their fingers touched, it lingered. Just for a second longer than before.

Daryl felt it. The warmth of her skin against his, the way her fingers curled just slightly before letting go. He swallowed, looking down at the bottle as he took it from her.

Rosita shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her chest, her boot scuffing against the dirt. “Sometimes I think I should’ve just gone,” she admitted. “Before it got messy. Before it got complicated.”

Daryl huffed, shaking his head. “Ain’t never not messy.”

She let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry, almost bitter. “Yeah. No shit.”

They fell silent again, the night stretching out around them. The whiskey was working its way through him, muting things just enough to make the quiet feel comfortable. His ears still hummed, the edges of everything a little softer.

Rosita glanced up at the sky, the stars just starting to burn through the darkness. “Ever think about it?” she asked. “What’s out there? Past all this?”

Daryl rubbed a hand over his mouth, fingers dragging along the stubble on his jaw. “Used to.”

Rosita watched him for a second, like she was waiting for more, but he didn’t offer anything else. Instead, he just took another slow drink, letting the burn settle deep.

She exhaled through pursed lips as she turned and braced her hands on the edge of the tailgate and pulled herself up beside him. The metal groaned as she situated– their shoulders close, but not quite touching. She stretched her legs out, crossing them at the ankles, her boot knocking lightly against his.

Daryl glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing.

Rosita sighed, tipping her head back slightly. “I think about it all the time,” she admitted. “Just getting in a car. Driving ‘til the road runs out.”

Daryl huffed a faint laugh, staring at the bottle in his hands. “What’s stoppin’ ya?”

She looked at him then, really looked at him. The corner of her mouth twitched, something almost like a smirk, but there was something else behind it. Something quieter.

Rosita didn’t answer.

Instead, she reached for the bottle again, her fingers grazing his as she took it from him. He watched her as she took another swig, her throat moving with the swallow before she exhaled through her nose. The bottle lowered, resting loosely between her hands, her fingers tapping against the glass in a slow, aimless rhythm.

Daryl rubbed his palms against his jeans, the warmth from the whiskey settling in his gut. She lifted the bottle again, took a drink and then handed it back. This time, when their fingers met, it wasn’t just a brush– it was slower, heavier. A beat too long. Neither one of them moved right away.

Daryl swallowed, his throat suddenly dry for reasons that had nothing to do with the whiskey.

Rosita’s eyes flicked to his– just a glance, quick, unreadable– before she pulled her hand away and settled it back in her lap.

The night stretched around them, quiet except for the rustling trees and the chorus of crickets and cicadas that filled the warm summer air.

Daryl rolled the bottle in his hands, his pulse thudding a little harder against his ribs. “You ever gonna leave?”

Rosita took a second, her lips pressing into a line as she gave him a gentle shrug. “Don’t know,” she admitted. “Sometimes I feel like it would be easier out there.”

Daryl hummed low in his throat, lifting the bottle to his lips. He could feel the weight of her eyes on him, the same way he could still feel the ghost of her touch against his skin. It made him restless. Like he needed to move.

He slid forward, his feet thudding the ground, his balance a little uncertain at first. The ground seemed to shift beneath him, so he put a steadying hand on the truck until he was sure his legs wouldn’t betray him. He thought that his small stumble went unnoticed, until she let out a small laugh.

He shot her a look and she smirked, tipping her chin toward him. “You good?” But the way she said it was in that low throaty tone that made it almost sound like a purr falling from her lips.

Daryl grunted a soft laugh, shaking his head lightly, more at himself than her. “M’fine.”

Rosita hummed like she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she reached for the bottle again. This time, she didn’t wait for him to hand it over, just plucked it from his grip, her fingers sliding against his as she did.

That damn touch again. Fleeting, but warm. Enough to make something coil low in his stomach.

She took a drink, long and slow, before lowering the bottle and licking a stray drop from her bottom lip. The movement was unintentional, effortless, but his eyes followed it anyways.

She was leaned to the side, propped back on one hand, the bottle clutched in the other. Perched on the edge of the tailgate, she looked so casual, so at ease. Her dark hair fell lose over her shoulders, contrasting sharply against her white tanktop that had ridden up, showing a small sliver of her stomach just above the waistband of her jeans. Daryl corrected his gaze, realizing that the flush that crept up his neck wasn’t just from the whiskey.

She must’ve noticed something in his expression, because her smirk faded slightly, her dark eyes lingering on his. “What?” she asked, her voice lower than what it had been just a minute ago.

Daryl shook his head, turning his attention back in the direction of the quarry. “It's just funny.”

Rosita arched a brow, shifting on the tailgate, the liquor already lacing her voice with humor. “What’s funny?” she asked as she tilted her head slightly, watching him. Her eyes gleemed brightly in the dim light. And when he turned his gaze back to hers, their eyes met for a moment before he spoke.

“Instead of goin’ somewhere, doin’ sometin’,” he exhaled sharply through his nose, “we’re just sittin here on the side of this damn quarry,” he motioned back towards the gaping hole just in front of the truck, “gettin’ drunk in the dark.”

She laughed then, shaking her head. “Yeah, guess neither one of us is as smart as we think we are.”

She let her legs swing lightly beneath her as she watched him, he was working his bottom lip between his teeth again as he stared out into the distance.

She offered the bottle out to him again, and he took a step closer, his hip brushing against her knee as he took it from her. His gaze was still on the horizon.

“I mean,” She said, the humor in her voice slowly fading, “There are worse ways to spend a summer night...” He turned his eyes back to her then, and she watched as his smirk faded into something else. Something softer.

He gave a small grunt in agreement, shifting his weight slightly from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He said, though his eyes never left hers.

Silence stretched between them, laced with something thicker than it had before, broken only by the steady song of crickets and the occasional groan of a walker far below.

Daryl passed the bottle back to her, and this time, when their fingers met, neither of them moved right away.

The touch lingered.

Warm.

Deliberate.

He felt the way she let her fingers trail down his before wrapping around the bottle and pulling it away, slow and unhurried.

He felt his pulse thrum in his throat, but he didn’t look away.

Rosita kept her eyes on his as she brought the bottle to her lips again. She took a sip, slow and measured, the whiskey burning down her throat. She didn’t flinch, didn’t break her gaze.

Daryl felt something shift between them, something subtle and unspoken, but undeniable.

He should’ve looked away, should’ve said something to cut through whatever it was that was building between them. But he didn’t.

Rosita lowered the bottle, her fingers curling loosely around the neck of it. Her knee brushed against him again, just barely, but he didn’t move away this time.

The space between them felt smaller now. Closer. Like something had shifted without either of them moving much at all.

Daryl’s fingers flexed at his sides, a slow, restless motion. He could still feel the ghost of her touch against his skin, the weight of her gaze lingering on him like the heat in the air.

Rosita tilted her head slightly, watching him. “What’s on your mind, Daryl?”

Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

Daryl swallowed, his throat working around the tightness that had settled there. He could’ve shrugged. Could’ve muttered nothin’ and put a safe distance between them.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t look away.

Rosita’s lips parted slightly, like she was going to say something else, but she hesitated. Instead, she set the bottle down beside her, her fingers lingering on the glass before she straightened.

And when she did, she was closer.

Not much. Just enough.

And somehow, her knees were on either side of him now.

Daryl still didn’t move.

Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t stop her when her fingers curled just slightly in the front of his shirt.

His pulse thudded harder now, rattling in his chest like something waiting to break loose.

Then she closed the distance.

Her lips met his, slow but sure, tasting of whiskey and heat and something else that had been simmering between them all night.

Daryl sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, startled by the sudden rush of it, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

His hands found her waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of her shirt, gripping tight like he needed something to hold onto. Rosita responded immediately, parting her lips against his, her fingers sliding into his hair at the base of his neck. It sent a shiver down his spine, a spark shooting straight through him, unraveling the last bit of restraint he might’ve had left.

The kiss deepened.

Rosita shifted forward on the tailgate, bracketing his thighs, pulling him in closer. Daryl let her. Let her push and pull and drag him down with her, because fuck, he wanted this.

The bottle tipped over somewhere beside them, rolling off into the dirt, forgotten.

His hands slid down, gripping her hips, his fingers pressing hard enough to bruise as he pulled her forward. She shifted, legs tightening around him as she kissed him harder, more desperate now. Her hands tugged at his hair, pulling a low noise from deep in his throat.

His skin was burning, his head swimming, the whiskey mixing with something stronger—something that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the way she was pulling him under.

Rosita broke the kiss just long enough to suck in a breath, her forehead pressing against his, her own breathing uneven.

“This a bad idea?” she murmured, her lips brushing his as she spoke.

Daryl swallowed, his grip on her tightening. “Prob’ly.”

She smirked, fingers trailing down the front of his shirt before slipping beneath the hem, her touch searing against his stomach.

“Good,” she muttered, then pulled him right back in.

The moment shattered, breaking apart like a dam giving way.

Rosita pulled him in harder, her fingers curling into his shirt, dragging him closer. Daryl let her, let himself get lost in the heat of it, in the whiskey and the way her body fit against his like they’d done this a hundred times before.

Her legs tightened around his hips, pulling him flush against her. The tailgate groaned beneath their weight, metal creaking as she shifted, pressing into him.

Daryl exhaled hard, his breath sharp against her skin as he broke away for just a second, but Rosita wasn’t having it. She chased his lips, her hands sliding under his shirt, nails scraping along his ribs, dragging another low rumble from within him.

His grip tightened on her hips, fingers pressing into the soft curve of her waist as he pulled her even closer, his mind buzzing from the alcohol, from her, from the way her mouth was working against his—needy and relentless.

She tugged at his shirt, frustration rolling off her in waves when it wouldn’t come off fast enough. Daryl helped, yanking it over his head and tossing it blindly behind him.

Rosita barely gave him time to breathe before her lips were back on his, her hands sliding up his bare chest, nails scratching lightly over his skin. He hissed at the sensation, heat pooling low in his stomach, thick and heavy.

She smirked against his mouth, biting down on his lower lip before licking over it, slow and teasing.

Something in him snapped.

Daryl growled low in his throat and grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly off the tailgate. She gasped as her back hit the side of the truck, but the sound melted into a breathy moan when he pressed against her, pinning her there.

Her hands found his hair, yanking him down as she kissed him harder, her body arching into his. The scent of whiskey and summer air clung to her skin, mixing with something distinctly hers—something warm and intoxicating.

Daryl barely had a second to think, barely cared to. His hands were on her, gripping, feeling, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, pushing it up as his lips trailed down her neck.

Rosita gasped, her head tipping back against the truck, exposing more skin for him to claim. His teeth scraped against her pulse, and she shuddered, fingers twisting into his hair.

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to.

Not tonight.

Rosita hooked her legs around him, locking him against her as she ground down, making his breath stutter, making every nerve in his body light up.

“Daryl,” she breathed against his ear, her voice rough and wanting.

That was all it took.

All the control, all the restraint, anything that had been holding them back—gone.

They weren’t thinking anymore.

Not tonight.

Just moving.

Hands desperate, mouths hungry, bodies pressing together like they needed this.

Like they’d fall apart if they stopped.

And neither of them wanted to stop.

Not now.

Not tonight.

Rosita’s breath hitched as Daryl’s hands moved—rough, desperate, fingers sliding beneath her shirt, palms dragging over the bare skin of her waist. She was warm beneath his touch, burning hot, and when she arched into him, he let out a sharp breath against her throat.

Her nails scraped down his back, pulling him closer, pressing her body flush against his. The truck behind them was solid, grounding, but everything else was spiraling—too fast, too much, and still not enough.

“Fuck,” she whispered against his lips, her voice breaking on the word as she tilted her hips, rolling them slow, deliberate.

Daryl gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around her thighs, his breath ragged as he tried to ground himself. But she wasn’t giving him the chance. Wasn’t letting him get a grip before she was kissing him again, rough and hungry, like she wanted to take every last piece of him tonight.

His hand slid higher, under her shirt, fingertips trailing the band of her bra before pushing it up, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his calloused hands. She gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders, and he swallowed the sound, pressing her tighter against the truck, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

Rosita reached between them, fumbling with his belt, cursing under her breath when the buckle refused to cooperate.

Daryl smirked against her skin, his lips dragging along her jaw. “Y’rushin’.” His voice was low, rough, a rasp of gravel and heat against her ear.

She exhaled sharply, her fingers yanking at his belt again, stubborn and unrelenting. “Shut up,” she muttered, but there was a smirk in her voice, breathy and reckless.

Daryl chuckled, deep in his throat, but it cut off when she rocked against him again, sending a sharp jolt of heat straight through him.

His patience snapped.

Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them above her head against the truck, his grip firm but careful. Rosita sucked in a breath, her dark eyes flashing with something wild, something daring.

Her lips parted, but before she could say anything, Daryl was on her again—his mouth covering hers, devouring, his free hand slipping down, pressing into the heat between them.

Rosita moaned, her head tipping back, body arching into his touch. “Daryl—”

That was it.

Whatever control he’d been holding onto was gone.

He kissed her hard, swallowing her gasps, letting his hands and his body tell her exactly how much he wanted this, wanted her.

Wanted to lose himself in her completely.

And Rosita let him.

Met him with the same raw intensity, the same fire.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just heat.

Just this.

Just them.

Daryl’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening on Rosita’s wrists as he held them against the truck. His restraint was razor-thin, fraying with every breathless sound she made, every shift of her hips against his.

Rosita smirked up at him, lips swollen from his kisses, her dark eyes flickering with something wild. “You gonna do somethin’ or just stand there?” she taunted, her voice rough, teasing.

Daryl didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t think.

Didn’t give her the chance to say anything else before he crashed his mouth against hers, rough and unforgiving.

She gasped into him, her fingers flexing where he held them, her body pressing into his as she hooked a leg around his hip, pulling him closer.

His free hand roamed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans, his fingers brushing hot, sensitive skin.

Rosita groaned, her head falling back against the truck, her breath catching in her throat.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her hips jerking against his touch.

Daryl growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating through him as his fingers pressed deeper, dragging another sharp moan from her lips.

Rosita tugged at his grip, and this time, he let her go.

Her hands were on him in an instant, shoving his belt out of the way, popping the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down with a quick, deliberate motion that sent heat pooling low in his stomach.

Daryl sucked in a breath, his forehead pressing to hers as her hand wrapped around him, warm and sure.

His fingers clenched against her hip, his entire body tensing as she moved—slow at first, then firmer, teasing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice breaking on the word.

Rosita grinned against his jaw, biting lightly before licking over the spot. “Thought I told you to shut up,” she teased.

Daryl let out a rough laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a groan as she squeezed just right. His patience snapped completely.

His hands were on her then, his fingers digging into the soft skin of her thighs as he lifted her.

She let him, wrapping her legs around him, arms locked around his shoulders as he slammed her harder against the truck.

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” she murmured against his lips, her voice breathless, shaky.

Daryl didn’t answer. Just kissed her again, swallowing her words, pressing into her, feeling every inch of heat, of need, of urgency between them.

There was no thinking, no hesitation.

Just heat.

Just hands and mouths and tangled limbs.

Just them, lost in the moment, in the whiskey, in the night.

And neither of them cared about anything else.

Not now.

Not tonight.

Daryl grunted as Rosita tightened her legs around him, the heat of her body pressing against his, sending another sharp pulse of want straight through him. His hands gripped her thighs, rough fingertips digging into smooth skin, holding her steady against the truck.

But it wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

Without breaking the kiss, he pulled back just enough to shift his grip, one arm sliding beneath her thighs as he turned, carrying her effortlessly to the cab of the truck. .

Rosita gasped, startled for just a second before she smirked against his lips. “Didn’t take you for the type,” she teased, her breath warm against his mouth.

Daryl huffed a rough laugh, kicking open the truck door, maneuvering them both into the cab with practiced ease. “Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no real bite to it, his voice ragged with need.

Rosita didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate.

Daryl barely had the sense to shut the truck door before he was on her again.

She just pulled him down with her as he climbed into the seat, her back hitting the worn leather, her fingers tangling in his hair as she dragged him closer. She kissed him hard, raw, full of something neither of them wanted to name.

She was fire beneath him—burning hot, winding tight, her hands gripping at his bare skin, her legs tightening around his hips, pulling him deeper, harder.

The whiskey burned in his veins, but it wasn’t the liquor making him feel like this. Wasn’t the heat rolling off them in waves, fogging up the windows.

It was her.

The way she moved beneath him, the way she gasped into his mouth when he rolled his hips just right, the way she dug her nails into his shoulders, leaving faint crescent marks against his skin.

“Fuck, Daryl—”

The way she said his name, breathless and sharp, nearly undid him.

He growled against her throat, biting lightly at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin before soothing it with his tongue. Rosita shuddered beneath him, her back arching, her nails dragging down his spine.

Daryl braced a hand against the door, the other gripping her hip as she shifted beneath him, heat pressing against heat, the friction making his breath hitch.

Clothes were in the way—too much fabric, too much space between them, and Daryl wasn’t having it. His hands were rough, fast, pushing her jeans down over her hips, shoving them past her thighs.

Rosita helped, lifting her hips, kicking them off until they were forgotten somewhere in the cab.

His jeans followed, shoved just low enough, his belt clattering against the seat as Rosita wrapped her legs around him again.

She bit down on his lower lip, pulling a low growl from him, and then he was moving, pressing his forehead against hers as his fingers gripped her thigh, hitching it higher around his waist.

Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling quickly beneath him, but she still managed to smirk, her fingers dragging down his stomach, teasing.

“You sure?” he muttered, voice rough, barely more than a breath.

Rosita huffed, her lips curling up in something like amusement, but her eyes were dark, heavy with want. “Shut up and fuck me, Dixon.”

Daryl didn’t need to be told twice.

He shifted, positioning himself, and then—

Rosita gasped, her nails biting into his skin as he sank into her, slow at first, stretching, fitting, filling every inch of space between them.

Daryl’s breath hitched, his grip on her tightening as he fought to keep himself steady, to keep from losing it right there.

She was hot, tight, perfect around him, her body arching to take him in deeper, her legs locking around him to pull him closer.

Daryl let out a rough breath, his grip tightening before sealing his mouth over hers again, swallowing the sharp gasp she let out as he finally settled in.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her head tipping back against the seat. “Daryl—”

He groaned, low and ragged, as he started to move, slow at first, testing, savoring the way she felt beneath him.

Rosita didn’t want slow.

She met his thrusts, rolling her hips in a way that made his vision blur, made him tighten his grip on her thighs, made him bury his face in her neck to muffle the growl building in his chest.

Rosita arched up to meet him, her nails raking down his back as they moved together, a tangled mess of heat and hunger and urgency.

The truck rocked slightly with their movements, the windows fogging up, the whiskey-fueled haze mixing with the sound of breathless gasps, low curses, the rustle of hands gripping at fabric, pulling, needing.

Daryl’s head dipped, lips dragging along the curve of her throat, tasting salt and warmth, his breath rough against her skin as Rosita’s fingers clenched in his hair.

He wasn’t thinking anymore.

Neither of them were.

Wasn’t worrying.

Wasn’t holding back.

He let go.

Let her take him under.

Let himself drown in her, in this, in the way nothing else mattered in this moment except the way she felt, the way she sounded, the way she moved beneath him like she needed this as much as he did.

They lost themselves completely in the moment, in each other, in the way nothing else existed outside the heat of the cab, the way the world could’ve burned around them and neither of them would’ve given a damn.

Not now.

Not tonight.

And when Rosita clenched around him, shuddering, gasping his name, he followed her over the edge, pulling her closer, holding on tight as everything broke apart around them.

They stayed there for a moment, tangled together, breathing hard, the weight of what just happened settling in between them.

But neither of them moved.

Neither of them spoke.

Because for once, they weren’t running from anything.

Not tonight.

[dragongirlie56]

I seriously wish that they put Link’s family in BOTW! I know there’s concept art and I’m like why didn’t you do this Nintendo?! Imagine Aryll being Link’s younger sister in BOTW and he introduces Zelda to Aryll! And imagine if he remembered memories with Aryll as he ventured across Hyrule?! AHHHHHH!! Gimme older brother Link again pls!!! (it would be heartbreaking when you realize that Aryll would’ve died within Link’s 100 year nap… but like… I still want it)

[saramelaniemoon]

[bluemoonperegrine]

The Happiness You Bring

Several of us in the Werewolf By Night fandom have been hard at work on our own continuation of the special. Fifty-two minutes of magic and mayhem were not enough!

Please enjoy our silly, angsty, sometimes sappy, and occasionally violent collaboration. The fun begins moments after the special ends.

Here's the start.

Chapter 1: Finders Keepers

Jack clutched his stolen hunter’s cloak shut with one hand and reached out with the other to grasp the steaming sunflower mug. The aroma of the coffee Ted had made for him flooded his nose. Warmth bloomed inside him, both from the beverage and his partner’s thoughtfulness.

Hours ago, in the Bloodstone mausoleum, he’d groused about Ted being a pain in the ass he often had to save. It was true, but he’d said it with both frustration and affection; the swamp creature thought the same of him, Jack knew. Life had dealt them both a challenging hand of cards, but together they were making the best of it.

Jack shivered at the chill of cold morning air where it crept through the gap at the front of the cloak, and he turned his eyes to assess the small campfire as he sat down on the log and sipped at his coffee. The fire would burn itself out before long. If this had been a normal full-moon transformation, Ted would have brought Jack’s backpack, and he’d have warm clothes to change into, but the cloak had been the best they could manage under the circumstances.

Ted had built the den, and the fire, and had watched over him while he slept, and Jack felt a flush of gratitude. Whatever the air temperature, the mornings when he wasn’t alone always seemed a little warmer. “Let’s do sushi,” he said, impulsively. “I owe you that. Yes.”

I’m in the mood for pho, Ted rumbled, so a Thai place that also does sushi.

Jack took another swallow, shifting his bare feet to rest them on top of a few folds of black wool and red silk. This wasn’t exactly restaurant attire, but probably there would be a clothesline somewhere he could raid before they got food. “Yeah, you choose.”

How? Ted’s contrabass slurred. I don’t know where we are!

Read the rest on ao3.

[skellymom]

"Bring Me To My Knees" PART 2

Crosshair/Hunter x Reader Non Gendered SMUT++

Dividers by the talented: @saradika and @4ngelic-wh1spers

Background: Reader and Crosshair are separated from the group during the rescue of Omega and Tech from Mt Tantiss. Two broken people trying to get by in the galaxy. Then two broken people finally dealing with what happened to their group.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning: Star Wars Canon violence, angst, death of major character, sadness, crying, guilt, permanent injury, stuff blowing up, swearing, kissing, intercourse, heavy petting, bite kind, blood kink, pain kink, spank kink, smutty/lemony content, lovers triangle with Hunter and Crosshair.

FOR CLARITY, HUNTER FLASHBACK SMUT SCENE IN CHAPTER 1. THE CROSSHAIR SMUT SCENE IS IN THIS CHAPTER 2. Broke this up in 2 chapters because I just couldn't stop writing...and 4K might be too much for one sitting.

I purposely wrote the reader in this fic to be of no specific gender. Tried to carefully craft the sexual scenes to accommodate either gender/non gendered/trans/genderfluid/non-binary. Everyone has hills, valleys, sexual organs, nipples, and erogenous zones. I wrote them into the story, but it's up to you dear reader to put your imagination to work. Hope I have done a good enough job that you can enjoy yourself with Hunter and Crosshair without breaking immersion!

To read Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/744267915687264256/bring-me-to-my-knees-part-1?source=share

The intel proved to be correct. You and Crosshair traveled to an uncharted planet well past the Outer Rim. A quiet unassuming place to start planning a burgeoning Rebellion. 

He piloted. As your ship entered planetary airspace several Rebel ships swooped in as escorts. The Rebel base radioed in to confirm your status. 

“Crosshair, Clone Force 99 and Y/N, civilian. We are Rebel sympathizers wanting to join the Rebel cause and find our lost family and squad members.” You replied. 

“Authenticating data. Hold your position.” 

Silence as you and Crosshair waited on bated breath. 

“You are clear to land. We will perform a customary inspection of your transport. Then check your gunnery and weapons at the docking station armory.” 

“They’ll be taking my rifle OVER my DEAD body.” Crosshair snarked. 

“Toothpick?” 

“Hhm?” 

“It’s your gun, NOT your dick. Let them do their job.” 

He sighed and shook his head. 

Word must have spread fast. No sooner did you land than Omega was out the bay door jumping up and down in excitement. 

Crosshair barely got the gangplank down on the ship. You jumped over the stairs and landed on your hands and knees. Sprung up and ran to her. 

Omega knocked you over with her embrace. You were both laying there crying. She had grown two heads taller and much stronger too. 

Rebel soldiers had come out to check the validity of your claims. They stood aside seeing at least one of their residents recognize you. They had witnessed MANY reunions just like this as people were finding their way to the planet.  

There was more: Wrecker wasn’t far behind. He scooped you both up and hugged you fiercely. 

“AWWW...SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE! MISSED YA HORRIBLY!!!” Wiping away tears. 

Echo approached with Phee. 

Wrecker let you go, and you embraced them both with each arm. 

“Phee...what happened???” Her beautiful hair was gone. Head covered and tied fashionably with a scarf. Burn scar down one side of her face. You noticed one hand had scars as well. 

She shot Echo a strange look, then shrugged and perked up. “It’s growing back. Getting bacta therapy for the scars.” 

“Tech? Hunter? Are they here?” 

Echo answered “Come inside. We’ll get you settled.” 

“Wait, I didn’t come alone.” 

You turned towards your ship. Crosshair was standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

Omega gave him a bear hug. He had allowed her that. Wrecker stood a few feet away watching them.  

Echo took your hand. “Let’s give them some time to catch up.” 

He and Phee led you inside the base past bustling personnel.  

“Wait...I didn’t check my blaster...” 

“That’s ok” Phee patted your shoulder. “We vouched for you. Crosshair though...” 

You approached an open medical station with bacta tanks lined up...recognizing... 

“TECH!” 

He bobbed merrily in the solution, waving at your arrival. 

You stopped to see he was missing both legs...just like Echo. There were scars all over his body, some weren’t present during his rescue. Tech saw your face and immediately started signing in Basic. 

It is no major loss. I will be fine. Only 20 more rotations within this tank, then I shall be fitted for my prosthetics...please...don’t cry. 

Things were starting to come together...Phee’s hair loss and burns...the Marauder being hit... 

“WHERE’S HUNTER???” You yelled it in a panic. 

Echo stepped in and took your hand. “Y/N... he...” The look on his face told you this wouldn’t be good news. Echo’s eyes registered the scarf draped around your neck. 

There was a commotion behind you at the entrance of the base. Crosshair’s voice. Arguing with two Rebel troopers over his lack of compliance regarding check-in. 

“Sir! We need you to...” 

“NOT NOW! Can’t you see MY PARTNER is in distress!!!” 

The trooper grabbed his arm. Crosshair immediately disarmed the man and put his ass on the floor. Then handed the troopers gun to HIS partner sneering, “I said FUCK OFF!” 

The second trooper took the gun and commed for backup. 

Crosshair stalked over gently putting his hands on your shoulders. Fixing Echo with his baleful stare. “Where’s Hunter?” 

Echo fixed you both with his amber eyes. He sighed; his expression was so sad. “I’ll take you to him.” 

Tech tapped on the tank to get Crosshair’s attention. Cross glanced over shocked. He hadn’t recognized who was in there. Then he noticed Tech’s condition. 

I’ll be ok brother. He signed.  

Tech put his hand up against the glass. Crosshair placed his on the other side against Tech’s. 

The trooper’s backup arrived and trained their blasters on Crosshair. He turned and eyed them menacingly. Then dropped his hands from your shoulders, one of which you grabbed. 

“Don’t start any shit, Toothpick. Please, this isn’t the time.” Squeezing his hand firmly. 

He squeezed your hand back and stood down. 

“Break it up Trooper. These are friendlies.” Captain Rex emerged from the back of the squad. 

“But sir, he assaulted one of our Rebel staff. And he refused to check his rifle.” Pointing to Stormpuncher mounted on Crosshair’s back. 

“I’ll handle it, Trooper. You are all dismissed.” 

The Rebel squad eyed Crosshair uneasily as they filed away from the scene. 

“Good to see you both alive and well.” Rex smiled genuinely. “But I’ll let Echo catch you up on everything.” He nodded to Echo and stepped away. 

At this point Wrecker and Omega joined the group. 

“Follow me.” Echo instructed. 

You glanced at Tech as the group started to walk away. He smiled wistfully.  

“I got them Brown Eyes.” She winked at Tech, and he winked back. But he still looked concerned. 

Phee put her arm around your shoulder and walked with you. Crosshair followed at your other side silently. 

The group filed through the whole facility: past logistics, maintenance, troop training, mess, quarters, a small prison area (mostly empty), daycare, pet kennel, a few non-descript departments, and finally to the back end of the facility. The group approached heavy double doors. 

There was a sense of dread in your chest. Everyone was quiet. Echo looked heartbroken as he swiped his key card over the lock mechanism.  

The doors opened to the outside. A HUGE garden stretching for over a mile...planted with the bodies of those fallen from the Empire. Headstones, holoshrines, helmets, and all manner of tributes marked each plot. Adults, children, military, civilians, even service animals. Droids who could not be repaired were erected as tribute statuary with holoplaques proclaiming their sacrifice. 

Hunter was there. Laid to rest several rows down from the entrance. 

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. 

“This isn’t real...” Shaking your head but staring straight ahead at Hunter’s helmet propped up on his plot. “NO... can’t.” Tears running down your face. 

Phee rubbed your back. “I’m SO sorry.” She was crying too. “Broody saved my life. I almost burned to death.” She pulled off the scarf to reveal the severity of her injuries. “I’m the reason he’s here.” 

Wrecker piped up “Noo, that’s not true. He would’ve done it for anyone on that ship.” He hugged Phee. 

Survivor’s guilt. Your heart went out to her.    

Crosshair took your hand and silently encouraged you to step down into the memorial and go to Hunter’s plot. You inhaled and stepped down...then your legs gave out. Crosshair grabbed your right shoulder. Echo ran over and supported your left. 

They led you to the plot. Wrecker, Phee, and Omega stayed behind. 

Soft grass was planted for whomever wished to sit and visit. Hunter’s helmet was surrounded by vivid red Poppies in full bloom. Echo seated you upon the grass. Crosshair kneeling beside you.  

“Can I do anything at all for you both.” He inquired. 

Silence. 

“Uh...I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“Echo?” 

“Yeah?” 

You swept him up in a hug again. “Thank you...for everything.” Tears returning. 

“Oh, of course.” He embraced you back. Holding on for some time. 

Echo patted your back and cleared his throat. He let go and wiped a tear from his face. 

Then he was gone.   

Crosshair sat stone faced staring at Hunter’s helmet bereft of emotion. It was the best he could do at this moment. 

You took off the red scarf, slipped it over Hunter’s helmet, and arranged it as if draped off Hunter’s own shoulders. 

Like he was sitting right in front of you with his bucket on... 

A sudden loud sob escaped. Each exhalation became louder until it ended in a scream. Your face red and pressed into the warm grass. Watering Hunter’s grave with your tears. Freeing the emotion out of the pit of your being. Screaming, sobbing until empty, finally collapsing from exhaustion. 

The afternoon progressed and the sun started to dip down towards the horizon. 

“Hey” Crosshair nudged you from disassociation. “Let’s go.” 

Numb, you let him haul you up under the shoulders. Standing, your vision went snowy and black.   

Crosshair must have carried you to the ship. The next few days were a blur, you slept through most of it. He hovered, fixing ration soup and just about threatening to force feed you. Trading whatever he could for black market sweets just to get ANYTHING into your belly. You barely remember Echo, Wrecker, Omega, or Phee visiting. Or AZI monitoring your vitals, reporting them well within range, that it was “only” grief and would eventually pass. 

Finally, after days in your bunk Crosshair had enough. 

“Soup!” He poked you awake. 

“Whaa?” Weakly turning over, burrowing under the blanket. 

“Get up. You STINK!” 

“Fuck off Crossy...” 

“Get up, or I’m throwing you INTO the refresher. Clothes and all.” 

You ignored him. 

Crosshair reached under the blanket and yanked you up. You caterwauled hurling swears, too weak to fight. But you were strong enough to hold on. 

He opened the refresher door and attempted to set you down. You stuck to him like shit on a Bantha’s behind. It turned into a wrestling match, both of you swearing at one another. One hand pried off him, then another would latch on, finally tearing his shirt to shreds. 

Cross gave up and flipped on the water soaking you both. The cold spray only made you hold on tighter, pressing against his chest for warmth. He gave up, sighed, adjusted the temp to warm. 

“Will you wash my hair?” 

Sighing again. “Yes.” 

You let go and turned your back to him. Crosshair lathered up his hands. 

“Wait.” You pulled the soaked T-shirt over your head and threw it in the corner of the shower. Now you're only clad in underwear. “Ok.” 

He applied the shampoo and did one helluva job massaging it into your hair. You smiled and groaned at the sensation. He finished by twisting the hair into a soapy point atop your head. 

“Will you wash my back and neck?” 

Heavy sigh. But he did. His hands were amazing. 

“Toothpick, will...” 

“I’m NOT washing your dirty ass...or anything else. You can reach.” Cross rinsed his hands and exited the refresher, leaving you to finish the job. 

You finally exited the shower feeling and smelling much better. 

Clean towels and comfy clothing were waiting for you. A non-descript box sat atop them.  

Dried, dressed, brushed your hair and nasty teeth. Then opened the box. The beautiful black and silver scarf from Mel and Marv’s stand. Toothpick paid attention...and had held on to it the whole time. 

You put it on and made your way back through the darkened ship. 

Crosshair was waiting, sitting on a blanket spread out on the floor. There was a multitude of fresh food and rations upon it. Also, a lit candle in the middle. The kind he would razz you about that “smelled like flowers and shit.” 

You smiled. “Is this a date?” Attempting some levity. 

“Sit your ass down and eat.” 

“Thank you.” Caressing the scarf around your neck. 

“For what?” He played dumb. You could see he noticed. 

“Everything. Being there for...” You couldn’t bear to speak it. “Taking care of me, this food...” 

“Can’t have you dying on me. Would have smelled worse than you already did.” 

“Oh...and that shower brawl...” looking up from your food. “THAT was certainly SOMETHING.” 

Crosshair grinned. “You owe me a new shirt.” 

“Do I, now? Well, don’t wear clothes in the refresher when you decide to throw me in.” 

He cocked an eyebrow while biting into a ration bar. 

“Then when I grab something, it’ll be foreplay.” 

Crosshair choked on his food. 

You stuffed yourself full. Satisfied, thanking Crosshair again (who rolled his eyes), and wandered back to your bunk. 

He had changed the bedding out while you were in the refresher. It was clean and the blanket turned over, inviting you to slide in. 

It felt wonderful burrowing into the clean sheets. 

But sleep was elusive tonight. 

The grief was still too much for you both. 

Two people alone on a dark, silent ship. The distance between you palpable. 

“Are...you awake?” he furtively asked with hushed tones in the dark. 

“Umhmm.” Intrigued as to why he asked. Sitting up and sliding your legs off to the side of the bunk. 

Silence. 

You sat there in the dark waiting for an answer. 

More silence... 

(You like a song to go with the following scene? Please check it out. Smutty, but emotional)

...then Crosshairs hand gently smoothing away the hair from your temple. 

You immediately embraced him tightly. 

He falters for just a beat.  Body frozen for what seems like an eternity.  Would this scare him away? 

Then you feel his arms encircle you, lips upon your cheek...kissing down to your lips. 

Unable to hold back any further, you turn your head to meet his lips to yours. 

Mouths opening to breathe into the well of one another.  Sliding upon each other passionately.  Breaths furiously taken in between long heated kisses. 

Then parting quickly to pull the clothing from each other's body.  Almost ripping the cloth away from bare skin.  Occasional moans of longing for skin-to-skin contact. 

Finally free of constraints, he stops to visually take you in... 

...he’s waited SO LONG for this moment. Couldn’t help admiring your strength while rescuing him on Tantiss...but finding out you bonded romantically to Hunter... 

“I... I’m afraid...” Terror and shame on his face. 

This shocks you to hear such words fall from his lips. He’s so VULNERABLE...kneeling next to you proclaiming his feelings. 

You reach out and stroke the side of his face, then firmly grip this chin. “So am I. But it’s just the two of us now.” 

You both stare into the lonely abyss of each other's eyes. 

“And I CAN’T STAND being alone.” 

“Then you WON’T be...EVER” He reaches out across the space between, pulling you to his body. His heat, his need. 

You have your own need, your heat blazes HOT with his deep kisses. Tongues intertwining.  

Then he pulls away to bury his face next to your ear whispering EVERY DIRTY THING he’s going to do to you while nuzzling and nipping your ear. Rubbing his hard cock along your shin, sliding along the wetness it leaves behind. 

You moan loudly...” Oh...fuck me...” 

“Mhmm...” trailing his tongue down your neck. His hands caressing the inside of your thighs. Stopping just short of your sex. Teasing his fingers around it...teasing you into fever pitch. 

Your hand on his shoulder digs your nails into his flesh. He moans in ecstasy from the pain. Trailing down your chest to nip and lick at your nipples. Crosshair stares up adoringly with half hooded eyes. 

His hand casually brushes your sex and trails away. 

Smiling while he teases. 

You grip the edge of the bunk, bracing your feet on the floor, and buck out your hips in the air, gasping, baring your teeth. 

Then he playfully but firmly slaps your sex. 

It pisses you off while turning you on at the same time. The tension building. 

His cock is SO slippery against your leg. The breath coming from him labored and shaky. Tracing your thighs just so closely to where you want to be stimulated, then away again. 

“FUCK ME!” You growl deeply through your teeth.  Something FERAL awakening in you. Shaking, sweating, digging harder into his shoulder. It starts to bleed, and his eyes roll back in his head.  

His facial expression turns intense. He slaps your sex again. You moan louder, then growl again. 

The teasing. It’s driving you INSANE. 

He knows you’re about to lose it... 

Crosshair stops kissing your chest, put’s his snarky, sexy, come-fuck-me-face up to your ear...  

“...Mmm...bite me...” 

Back somewhere in your sexually addled lizard brain registers this could be literal instead of figurative. 

And he slaps you...ONE MORE TIME... 

Without thinking you sink your teeth into his other shoulder. Blood seeping into your mouth. 

Crosshair screams out in fevered sexual ecstasy...frotting his weeping cock furiously against your leg. 

His slapping hand comes back fully on your sex, furiously stimulating... 

...kneading... 

...filling up your intimate spaces... 

...sliding.... 

...you buck your hips tightly against the hand that services you... 

...as the pressure of your molars squeeze the flesh of his shoulder...it’s heavenly pressure...the taste of copper as you suck it down... 

Crosshair’s fevered thrusts of his hips. 

The fevered ministrations of his hand. 

Ragged breaths mixed with groans...whimpers... 

You release your mouth from his shoulder, as you gasp for air... blood trailing down his back from the punctures. Small crimson rivulets running down your chin, neck, across your erect nipples...you fall back...Pressing your head into the bunk...eyes widening...mouth open. His left hand on the small of your back like a spotter, his right sending you over the edge... 

Clenching your abdomen...you feel that tickle...the beginning of... 

Crosshair stops and pulls his hand away. You grab his arm devastated, angry even to be thwarted from your orgasm. 

Breathlessly “I want to FEEL you...from the INSIDE.” It’s not presented as a question. But he’s waiting for your consent. 

You reach down, stroke his sopping wet member. He moans and shudders. Then brush a ghost of a kiss across Crosshair’s forehead as you scoot fully onto the bunk and open yourself up to him. Your seductive gaze is inviting. 

Up off his knees, he slinks over you on the bunk. Staring like a hungry animal.  

For a fleeting moment, you don’t see Crosshair there...just Hunter. Your desire threatens to topple over into grief...all these emotions bubbling up from the surface. That scar will NEVER be totally healed. The sadness that will NEVER totally leave. 

Crosshair watches the subtle changes of your expression and senses this. He understands. While there are differences, it’s his loss too. 

He covers his body with yours, basking in the warmth skin to skin. Then takes your face in his hands. Touching foreheads, he whispers promises for you both in the future. All the things you will do together and the burdens you will both share and support each other through. Every one of them ends with a kiss as a promise.  

“I’m not Hunter...but...I’ll work on being a better man than I was in my past.”  

“I don’t want you to live in Hunter’s shadow. You’re different. Our relationship will be different.” 

Silence. 

“I’m SO SORRY you lost your brother.” 

Crosshair covers his face with his hand. Silent tears spill out between his fingers. 

You say no more and hold him tightly. Knowing it was A LOT for him to even let go like this. Knowing the relationship, he had with especially Hunter was fraught with so much emotional angst. And the heavy burden Crosshair holds about the horrible things he did at the end. 

You both lay there for some time wrapped up together in each other's arms...just being. Crosshair’s head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You rubbing gentle circles though his hair. 

Finally, he speaks, “Would you like me to finish?” Looking up at you seriously with those intense dark eyes. 

You read him like a book. He knows you too well now. There’s a deep care for one another. But you both know the sex tonight will be for dealing with the grief. That's ok though. It’s an unspoken agreement of how this will help the two of you bond and heal.  

You’ll both drink, fight, fuck, laugh, and all manner of things together while dealing with this shared grief. Whatever gets you by. It’ll bind you both thick as thieves. 

“Yes.” 

He kisses down your body to your sex. Licking, sucking, lavishing you with an intensity that prevents you from lying still. All the while grinding his returned erection into the sheets, soaking them. 

You both begin to get vocal. He adds more stimulation with his fingers, driving you wild. Grasping the bedding, you arch your back again. With the pressure in your core, his tongue wetly sliding over your sex...your breathing reaches a fever pitch...the tingling returns... 

“Crosshair...” 

He stops, sits up, gently pulls your hips to position, and slides his length into you. 

“Fuuuck...” he groans loudly, slowly pulling out, then slowly sliding in...he wants to feel it ALL. No rush. Just the amazing sensation...every inch...of him...against you... 

...sliding out... 

...sliding in... 

His legs are shaking. 

Your breath not just respirations but moans to the timing of his thrusts. 

...sliding out... 

...sliding in... 

Crosshair’s eyes are hooded in desire. He can see you’re about to cum. A crooked, horny smile crosses his face. 

The tingle becomes a wave... 

IT RUSHES THROUGH YOU like beautiful warm surf racing towards your sex... 

...and reaches its destination... 

You arch your back deeper...He’s watching you at the apex of your orgasm. Time seems to slow down for a few seconds. Eyes open with no angst, anger, judgement, spite, sass...his eyes...the window to a man WIDE OPEN at this moment in time. He’s telling you with his eyes what his voice could not.  

You’re staring above right into those eyes as your head presses just a centimeter deeper into the bedding...you inhale DEEPLY as those warm tendrils explode deep at the base of your core.  

Orgiastic moan-scream comes from your mouth so intensely you feel it in the roof of your mouth. Vision fuzzing out slightly. Tiny warm explosions of nerves firing everywhere in your body.  

Crosshair squeezes you tightly, screaming gutturally, eyes shut tight, and shuddering inside you with his own climax. Both of your sensory stimuli shut out to the outside world: Only aware of you both connected at the junction of your bodies.  

And then the orgasm dissipates like a wave being pulled back out to sea. Seafoam settling in and tickling the shoals of your sex.  

You feel warm and tingly...the rush of all those endorphins. He collapses gently on top of you. Gathering each other up in embrace. 

laying in each other’s arms realizing the future is wide open. It's a bit daunting...scary even. But you have each other. And, for now, that will do. 

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[drakulana]

ok but hear me out.............

[valewritessss]

What are some fanfiction pet peeves or icks?

I specifically had percabeth in mind but other ships or fandoms is fine too

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant

Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only)

Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk, Blood kink, Anal.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 29:

Do you want some more?

Chapter title is lyrics from "Kool-Aid”

We’re back to Oli’s perspective.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Four, three, nine, six.  

I let the numbers play on repeat in my mind, adopting the code like a mantra to keep it in the forefront of my memory as I clutched Alice’s hand, tugging her along behind me while I rushed us down the winding staircase. 

“Slow down,” She laughed nervously, her words echoing against the concrete walls of the fire escape, “I’m sure the restaurant will still be there if we take our time.” 

“We’re not going to the restaurant.” I felt the corners of my lips twist my features into a smile as I remained focused on the task before me. 

Four, three, nine, six.  

Or was it three, four, nine, six…   

Fuck.  

“Then where are you taking me?” 

No, surely it was four, three, nine, six.  

Right?  

“You’ll see.” I said distantly as we reached the bottom of the stairs where I was faced with my dreaded obstacle: the keypad . 

Four… three… nine… six.  

As I keyed in the numbers I’d conjured up from the depth of my memory, I anxiously held onto the hope that they’d used the same code for the back exit of the hotel as they had for the rooftop door. 

Cause if they hadn’t, the alarm would be blaring any moment now. 

“Doesn’t this lead to the back of the hotel?” I heard Alice ask with yet another nervous laugh while I held my breath and pushed the door open. 

Thankfully we were met by nothing but the remnants of the setting sun through the treeline ahead.  

I breathed a sigh of relief.  

Alice released a small yelp as I wordlessly tugged us towards the small path leading to the forest behind the hotel, intentionally not facing her as we neared a sprint, not trusting myself to keep my intentions secret. 

You see, I hadn’t meant to drift off when I crawled into bed with Alice earlier. But her comfort had been too consuming, and my sleep deprivation too great. So, when I woke up and realised from the evening light filtering through the window that I’d wasted our last day at the hotel by sleeping it away, there was only one thing I wanted to do. 

The first thing I noticed when I awoke from the land of suspiciously nightmare-free slumber, was that Alice had no longer been tangled up in my arms. She’d instead been standing by the window, staring out into the forest we’re heading towards now. 

She’d worn a dress today that I’d seen her in many times before. It appeared deceivingly modest at first glance, with the hemline almost hitting her knees. But the white fabric was so thin you could see her figure perfectly, even with the faintest of directional light hitting her. 

Her fingers were playing mindlessly on her lips as she was obviously lost in thought, her blonde locks messy, and the dress creased from having been in bed with me for so long. And while it was hard to tell the nature of her thoughts from her shifting expressions, I could have sworn I saw lust flicker in her eyes as she let her fingers drag over her soft bottom lip. 

Then I noticed the outline of her underwear, and just a whisper of one of the bruises I’d left on her hip a couple of nights ago. 

I found myself wondering what shade they’d developed into by now, followed by the thought that it would be incredibly easy to tear into such a thin fabric and have a look for myself. 

Almost too easy.  

Not wanting the early stages of my morning wood to escalate any further in Alice and Liam’s room, I abruptly sat up, jarring Alice out of her deep thoughts before asking if she was ready to head out. 

She’d nodded, a twinkle in her eyes suggesting she was happy I’m awake – happy to see me. 

Stop it Oli, you’re being a hopeful twat again.  

I immediately dragged her off to the fire escape in a rush, hoping to outrun my fears of being wrongfully optimistic; hoping to silence the thoughts that all isn’t well between us before they grow roots and spread in my chest; not wanting our last night in paradise to be wasted any more than it already had been. 

The treeline which had appeared to be in such close proximity to the hotel from Alice’s room, was a fair bit further than anticipated, made evident by Alice’s laboured breathing once we reached the first cluster of thick tree trunks. 

But I needed her to not be out of breath for this next bit, so I slowed us to a walk once we entered the forest, before having her lean up against the rough bark of one of the trees, finally meeting her gaze in the faint light. 

“Do you mind filling me in on what we’re doing here?” She asked, but I could tell she already knew, that my heavy-lidded eyes had given it away far too quickly from the way she melted against the wood behind her the moment she looked at me. 

I took a step closer, my hand snaking around her waist as I pressed my body to hers. She inhaled sharply as what I could already feel throbbing in anticipation between my legs connect with her. 

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while now.” My voice came low, uneven. 

Her eyes glowed with curiosity and excitement. 

I shifted against her, watching her mouth fall open, matching my own. 

“How fond are you of this dress?” I asked after a moment, attempting to choose my words carefully. 

She squinted at me, suspiciously, “Not very.” 

I swallowed as it seemed I would finally get to do what I’d daydreamed about, “Same safe word as last time, yeah?” 

She studied my features as our breaths mingled in the slight chill of the evening air, then nodded. 

“Good. You might also need to tap , if you need air.” I added, referencing the safety precautions we’d taken while I’d made her choke on my dick, not letting her breathe as I got off on her struggles. 

Her breath hitched as I spoke, as it was becoming clearer that we were about to have an unusually rough time. 

“Okay.” She confirmed, her large doe eyes looking up at me, and I once again had to fight off the urge to say the three little words that terrify her infinitely more than any danger I could put her in tonight. 

Once her eye contact had proven too much for my bleeding heart, I instead let my gaze fall to her lips. “Okay.” I sighed in response before my mouth connected with hers; such a delicate and gentle kiss – the last tenderness for a while. I relish it, press myself closer, wanting our bodies to touch on any surface that would allow it. I only pull away when I noticed myself moan from the sensation of her fingers in my hair, realising I was getting a bit carried away.  

“Then run.” I whisper, and watch surprise appear in her eyes, unable to keep the sinister smile from pulling at my lips. 

I take a step back, suddenly cold where she’s no longer pressed against me. 

“ Now .” I demand with a tilt of my head. 

She sprung into motion, and for a moment I simply watched her weave through the trees, her slow pace and clumsy ways would make it far too quick for me to catch up to her, so I took the time to remove my shirt and place it by the tree, simultaneously attempting to memorize its location for when we’re done. 

To my surprise, when I looked back up, she was no longer in my line of sight. 

Shit.  

I quickly undid my belt as I set off down the same path I’d seen her on moments ago. 

But after a short run, I reach a fork in the road, forcing me to come to a complete halt, my eyes darting between the two paths before me. 

Where the fuck did you go, Alice?  

As I stood there, panting, I heard a branch breaking to the left of me. 

My eyes instantly snapped in its direction, and I felt my smile return as I saw her fingers wrap around a tree not far from me. 

Quietly, carefully , I began unbuttoning my jeans as I scanned the area, making sure we were in fact alone. But the forest was thick, and the path small and winding, so I knew it would be highly unlikely anyone else was out here this late. 

In fact, I’d be wise to not get turned around, or we might have a hard time finding our way back. 

I felt my features harden, and my heart beating faster as I took slow steps towards her, nearly salivating from the mental images of tearing into that dress. 

And that’s how I got distracted enough to step on a branch myself. 

The crack could be heard so clearly in the silence around us. Wide, glowing eyes look back at me before Alice set off again, towards the last remnants of the setting sun, out into a small clearing. 

I immediately follow, but she was faster than I’d anticipated.  

Yet I managed to remain on her heal, taking a handful of longer strides which allowed me to finally grab her arm right as we were about to leave the open area and head back onto another winding path. 

She cried out as grabbed her, being quick to twist out of my hold, but in the same motion she fell to the ground, landing facing me in a bed of moss next to the treeline. 

There was so much panic in her eyes that for a split second I had to fight the urge to ask if she’s alright, but in the next beat she was crawling backwards, attempting to push back up, to continue her escape. 

Not happening, love.  

I was on top of her before she had time to get on her feet, the weight of my body falling onto hers audibly knocking the wind out of her. My determined legs pinning hers, spreading them wide and hiking up her dress while I grappled for her wrists as she thrashed beneath me. But my vision was heavily obscured by swaths of thick hair having fallen over my eyes, making an already difficult task even harder. 

It didn’t help that her every movement caused us to grind together, only the thin cotton of her underwear separating what was throbbing between my legs and the softness between hers, cradling me in her warmth as my jeans had slipped down enough during the commotion for me to be completely free. 

“ Get off me! ” She exclaimed through the sound of our laboured breaths, yelps and grunts as she struggled for freedom that I wasn’t allowing her. 

A laugh escaped me as I finally managed to take hold of both her wrists, causing her to still. 

So, I ground my hips against hers – an almost involuntary action, missing the friction the second she stopped moving under me. 

I felt her melt in my hands, the tension leaving her body, her back arching with a breathy moan. 

As I shook the hair out of my face, I met her burning eyes, and for a moment I just drank in the vision of her; her pale, delicate skin against the stark contrast of my own heavily decorated arms, her golden hair a tousled halo, a mixture of leaves and twigs having been tangled up in it, and the heavy rise and fall of her chest, matching my own. 

I wanted to kiss her panting, parted lips, to show her with affection how much she means to me, and how lucky I feel to have found someone like her – so sweet, yet so wild. 

But this wasn’t the time for such things. 

No, I wanted to see the beauty in her suffering , feel her fight me with everything she had. 

As if reading my mind, I could see mischief spark in Alice’s eyes milliseconds before promptly putting an end to our peaceful moment. With one jerking motion, she twists free, nearly elbowing me in the face in the process. 

“ Fuck ,” I said through gritted teeth as I once again tried to get a hold of her, but she was thrashing harder this time, crying out as she strained against my weight holding her down. 

After a moment of fighting her, I realised she didn’t stand a chance – she wasn’t budging me no matter how hard she tried. So, I simply let myself enjoy her struggling body writhing beneath me she tired herself out, feeling myself growing increasingly intoxicated by the warmth between her legs pushing , and rubbing against me so very deliciously, not being able to tell which one of us were making things feel so wet and slippery. 

I was getting carried away, feeling gleeful as I readied myself to move the panties out of the way and finally push into her, when I felt a sharp pain on the side of my face. 

The woman beneath me stilled, eyes wide as saucers staring up at me as I instinctively reached for what turned out to be a cut on my left cheek, leaving my hand coated in red – more than likely from one of Alice’s nails as she was attempting to get out from her pinned position. 

Adrenaline rushed my veins, enjoying this turn of events a little bit too much. A plethora of ways to punish her for harming me flooded my mind, putting steel in my features as I fought off the urge to react too quickly, too harshly . My resolve must have looked like anger, as fear suddenly filled her flushed face. 

Which did nothing but spur me on. 

With my bloodied hand I took hold of her throat – a bit more forcefully than intended as she slammed to the ground with a yelp, her fingers wrapping around my arm, and I could feel a shiver in her hands. 

I swallowed, feeling high, feeling feral. 

For a moment I consider stopping despite not having been given any of the pre-approved red lights, but the truth was the sight of her legitimate fear made my dick throb so hard it bordered pain, and while my heart wanted to console her, my body wanted to make her cry , make her scream . 

Make her hurt me even more in retaliation.  

But then I saw the fire in her eyes, the familiar need; the satisfaction she derived from my twisted ways. And in the same breath her movements returned, thrashing against me to break free. 

I watched droplet after droplet fall from my face and hit her breasts, staining the light fabric there as I pinned her harder to the soft forest floor, applying enough pressure to bring even more fear into her eyes. 

Oh god, yes.  

My other hand reached for the freshly blood-stained neckline of the dress, tearing it open, snapping her bra in the process, causing her breasts to bounce free and Alice to tense further, her sharp nails digging into the flesh of my hand. 

Yes, show me how scared you are, my whore. You’re doing so well.  

My breath came ragged as I reached between us to shove her underwear to the side, and for a moment I thought she was about to tap considering how hard I was holding onto her neck, but instead her eyes rolled back in obvious ecstasy as I pushed into her, the hands that were trying to pry me off of her neck a second ago suddenly holding onto me like a lifeline. 

She had once again melted, and while I wanted to keep her in distress, I couldn’t help myself, she simply felt too good. 

I watched more drops fall into her bouncing breasts while I fucked myself into her, loosening my grip on her neck, listening to her sharp inhale quickly followed by her gasping moans, in order to caress her skin, watching the deep red liquid smear under the touch of my straining hand, splaying my fingers over her chest to hold her in place as I began pounding her in earnest. 

The sound of my panting shifting to something more akin to moans, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to last very long if I kept going like this. 

I fell forward, nestling into our combined tousled tufts of hair until I reached the soft skin of her neck, biting down on it. She arched into me, a pained set of gasps leaving her as I bit down with more force, the taste of metal filling my mouth as I came across the blood I smeared on her moments ago. 

I was so close.  

So very close.  

Do I do it, do I go over that edge? Or do I hold back despite the great difficulty, in an attempt to make this wonderful feeling last a little longer. 

No, it feels too good. I can’t stop.  

My eyes fell shut as I focused, trying to prolong the inevitable, to enjoy how she sounded, how she felt, squeezing me as I repeatedly pushed myself deep inside her with each intoxicating thrust. 

Just fill her up, you fucking idiot.  

I’d been too busy trying not to cum, listening to her cries of pleasure as I bit and kissed her neck to notice I wasn’t holding onto her anymore. 

And right as I started shaking, my orgasm so close I couldn’t stop myself no matter how badly I wanted to make it last, she pulled away, leaving my hands, my dick slipping out of her in the process. 

It felt so cold and wet, pulsating with the orgasm it was denied. 

I saw red. 

Pure, unfiltered frustration filled me, not accustomed to being denied my own pleasure – nor her sexual defiance. 

And I had mixed feelings about it. 

“ Get back here! ” I growled, my nails digging into her leg as she tried to escape. 

Her attempt had done nothing but move us a couple of feet closer to the trees, flipping her over as she’d been trying to reach for a nearby tree to pull herself free. I heard her laugh as I dragged her back underneath me, my throbbing cock pressing against her as I spoke close to her ear. 

“You think the edging goes both ways?” I ask, the frustration more evident in my voice than I’d wished.  

But she doesn’t respond, so I give her a shake, “ Do you? ” 

“N-no.” She answered instantly this time, causing me to smile. 

I let my lips play on her ear, “We’re not equals right now, love. I’m the cat, you’re the mouse.” I say with a purr as I work overtime to settle my frustration, contemplating my next move. So, I hold her in place, wondering if I should let my intrusive thoughts win or not, wanting so badly to hear something from her lips. 

I knew it was a horrible idea, but I’d already let myself get carried away so much lately, why stop now? 

“Say you’re my whore.” I breathed, commanded .  

She was silent, but I had already taken it there; was already craving her verbal confirmation of my ownership. Wanting her to be mine so badly that I’d take this moment of delusion to pretend , to feed my hunger for a reality that might never come to fruition. 

So, at this point she had to either say it, or say the safe word. Because I wasn’t budging.   

“ Say it .” I spat. 

“I’m y-your whore.” 

It was such a rush, such a high, I felt completely delirious. It didn’t matter that she’d only said it because I’d commanded it, that it wasn’t true; I was still on cloud nine. 

Mine.  

“ Yes, you are.”   I whispered as I let my hand reach between us, caressing her soft ass under the hiked up and moss-dampened hemline of her torn dress, before reaching her soaking lips, letting my fingers glide into her warmth. She gasped and I couldn’t help but nestle my head into hers with affection, enjoying the way her pussy hugging my fingers made my dick twinge, longing to be back inside her. 

But I wasn’t going back in there. 

After a moment of relishing, letting her words echo inside me, I pushed myself up. My free hand firmly on her back to keep her in place, ready to continue the punishments. 

Letting my freshly soaked fingers slip out of her, I coated my dick with the warm and slippery substance, before spitting on her ass, my breath hitching as I watched the glistening liquid run down the crack of her soft, round cheeks, covered in bruises from the other night – from me, as I laid claim to her body. 

But I want claim to more than her body. 

“Say it again.” I breathed, pressing my shaft into it, positioning myself at her back entrance. Making my intentions clear, and allowing her a moment to react, to stop me, if she didn’t want to continue. 

She tensed, seemingly holding her breath as I slowly began to push. 

“I’m your—” 

I felt her tense up tenfold as I pushed the head of my cock into her. So, I held back, going at a pace that had me clenching my jaw to prevent myself from entering her tight hole too quickly. 

“Say you’re mine. ” My demand came broken, deep and ragged, barely containing myself as my arms tremble from the desperate urge to pound her mercilessly, and the need to hear her say it, again and again. 

“I’m yours.” She moaned, so pained, undoubtedly overwhelmed, obviously not thinking clearly enough to know what she’s saying, or what it means to me. 

My shaking intensifies, drunk from how tightly she’s gripping me, from her words. All of Alice’s motions had stilled, and I watch as her fingers dig into the soil beneath her, her breaths shallow puffs of air moving the hair covering her face in quick succession. 

Still no sign of a safe word – not even to make me ease up on her. 

How on earth am I supposed to last more than a handful of pumps?  

“ Again .” I grit out as I begin moving faster inside her, needing to hear it one more time before I go over the edge, watching as my nails dig into her back, still holding her in place. 

“I’m yours.” She sighed through gasps, sounding so far gone she might as well have been drunk off her head. 

But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered in that moment except the way her words were caressing my ears, wrapping around my heart. 

And the way she was gripping my cock in new ways that made it impossible to hold on any longer. 

In long, incredible, strokes, I fill her up. I distantly heard the sounds I was making echo around me, and before I knew it, I had pushed myself to the hilt, falling forward to bite her muddied shoulder as I shake from the intense release, nearly too overpowering; nearly painful. 

Once the waves of pleasure came to an end, I rolled off her, promptly feeling the energy leave my limbs as I stare into the sky that had turned dark enough by now to reveal some of its stars, letting my heartrate settle, slowly descending from the heavens I had just visited, coming back to reality. 

My thoughts began to race, and I felt regret, even shame, from having demanded such ownership, knowing it could derail us. Knowing that’s not how she felt. 

But my worries faded when I gathered the courage to tilt my head in Alice’s direction. 

She was so dishevelled, her face flushed with an exhausted smile on her lips. Her tired eyes glowing in the darkness, watching me with so much wonder. 

And if I didn’t know better, I would have described her gaze as loving. 

But despite my hopes and delusions, I do know better. 

Regardless, she appeared truly happy in this moment, and so relaxed that you would have thought she had been the one to have just experienced the mind-blowing orgasm. 

I reached over to pick one of the larger leaves out of her hair, my hand still holding a slight tremor as I let it brush her warm cheek before retreating. 

I wanted to tell her she’s incredible, that I never thought I’d find someone as special as her – that I wanted to spend every day with her. 

But instead, I just stayed silent as the wind gently picked up around us. 

How ironic , I thought to myself; I fantasize and get off on her running from me, craving the vision of her scared and pained eyes looking back at mine as I terrorise her. 

And yet… the sadness that drags me under when she runs from my displays of love, might just drown me. 

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