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thewinter-eden · 1 month ago

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You Live Like This?

images are mine (except middle chan pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Chan's ATE pcs are my inspo this time.

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes, one shot summary: home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob.

warnings: knives, threatening behavior, mention of rape (nothing in actuality), mention of murder (nothing in actuality), light violence (no harm), swearing, mentions of Carry-On (Netflix), mentions of cheating, fear, terrified but exhausted reader, attempted kiss (no force), satirical plotline. chan fluff.

word count: 5k

Your fingers are curled around the handle of the pot on the stove when you hear it. The slightest click, the faintest ruffle of air. It’s a familiar sound, the gentle push of your front door closing when you’re trying to be quiet.

You freeze, heart pounding, and try to mentally walk yourself back through the past couple of hours. You’d come home from work, still reeling from the latest verbal onslaught from your (former) boss, and kicked the door shut behind you. Had it closed? Had it latched?

It hadn’t.

It must not have.

One of the dogs must have just pushed it closed.

You push the pot off the burner and turn the stove off, smoothing your hands down the front of your sweats. Baited breath, shoulders tensed, you cross the kitchen and poke your head into the entryway, peering through the shadows. You have every light in the chilly house off except for the kitchen, because you’re finally settling down to watch a long awaited film, and you like to set the scene with a dark house.

But that means your entryway is pitch black, and to your slowly adjusting eyes, the coatrack looks like a person’s silhouette.

Before you can convince yourself otherwise, your hand snaps out and hits the light switch.

Flickering yellow light floods the small hall, revealing nothing but your coatrack, the tiny side table that bears the weight of your house keys and the mail, and your kicked off work heels, still laying messily on the inside rug.

Your eyes flick to the other doorway in the hall, the one leading to your living room, but it’s still dark and quiet, so you flick the lights back off.

Dinner is a painfully cheap meal of instant ramen with an egg cracked on top and half a sausage chopped up into the noodles. You don’t bother plating it, rather setting the sauce pan that it cooked in onto a large oven mitt on the table, right next to that damn cardboard filing box.

Retrieving a pair of chopsticks, you settle into your chair and stir the noodles through the eggy broth, unable to stop the heavy sigh the swirls steam directly into your face. Cheap ramen is going to make many appearances in the next couple of months.

It’s not the heat or the spice that brings tears to your eyes as you fight down a mouthful, but rather the weight of your last few days. And, to top it all off, the email from the real estate office that you found waiting for you when you got home a few hours ago, haphazardly dropping the final straw on the proverbial camel’s back.

There’s a thump from your living room, and then the rattle of your dog’s favorite bell toy rolling across the floor.

You grab a napkin and dab your lips, reaching for your bottled water. “Mira,” Your voice fills the empty house. Your oldest dog, thirteen, likes to use the obnoxious rattling of that toy to inform you that you’ve forgotten her dinner time. “Bring it here, Mira.”

The next series of noises makes your heart stop.

The sound of both of your dogs jumping off your bed upstairs, and the absolute elephant stampede of them skittering down the stairs.

Your eyes slide to the dark living room doorway, mind racing as Mira and Pip come skating across the kitchen floor, both trembling excitedly at the prospect of dinner.

You’re out of your chair in a second, ramen forgotten, tripping over both dogs in your lurch for the living room. Your hand reaches through the doorway and slaps the light switch, illuminating the room. Your tv is on, paused where you left it at the opening title of the movie you’re about to watch, but your eyes are pinned to the furniture—the couch and recliner, which both face away from you.

Mira and Pip are swarming around your legs, unbothered by whatever has captured your attention, their wet noses bumping your hips and hands. They want food, and they’re not impressed by how distracted you are, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they’re confiscating the rest of your ramen.

A rush of confidence hits you out of nowhere and you surge into the living room, turning to face down the furniture.

Both empty.

The dog toy is on the floor under the coffee table, innocently silent.

It’s close enough under the lip of the table that you realize it must have been teetering on the edge and finally fallen off just in time to mess with your head.

The breath you let out is loud enough to stir the dogs up again, and Pip snags the hem of your sweater playfully.

“Alright, alright.” Your fright is forgotten as you lead your girls into the laundry room, lowering your voice to try to calm their steadily rising excitement. “Here’s your food, quit your nagging.” You ruffle their ears affectionately and step out, closing them into the laundry room to eat.

They don’t steal from each other, but Pip likes to run between the laundry room and the living room between bites, zooming down the hall and bouncing off the couch, too hyper to chill and eat unless you lock her into the room.

You return to your half-eaten ramen and realize that you’re not hungry.

A second passes as you contemplate dumping the rest of it into the trash, but you decide against it. God knows if you’re going to be able to manage dinners like this in the coming weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to waste the food you have.

But just as you’re sitting down, you hear a creak.

You know that creak.

You know your house.

It’s the fourth step of your staircase, the creak that sounds when you put your weight on the left edge.

The chopsticks fall out of your hand. “Hello?” Your voice booms before you’ve realized you’ve released it, and your eyes skate your countertops. There’s an immersion blender in it’s stand next to your toaster, and it’s heavier than the bamboo spoon that sits next to it, so you grab the handheld appliance.

“Hello?” You don’t really mean to say it again, but you can’t think of anything else to say. What, like a murderer is going to respond? Like they’re going to say, ‘it’s just me, looking for a place to hide in your bedroom!’

You flip every light switch that you pass between your kitchen and the stairs, the cold plastic of the blender pressing painfully into the bones of your hand. You’re holding it so tight that it’s trembling.

There’s no one on the stairs.

As you make your way up, you experimentally put your food to the left edge of the fourth step. Maybe you’d heard wrong. Maybe your brain was messing with you. But as you sink your weight down, that same old creak groans from the wood like it’s mocking you.

Heart hammering, plummeting to the rock bottom of your stomach, you bolt up the rest of the stairs. If someone’s in your house, you’re not just going to give them time to hide by creeping slowly up your own staircase.

Your entire house illuminates in your wake, until there’s not a single shadow left. You poke your head into every room—your room, the guest room, the bathrooms, even the linen closet.

There’s no one.

You lower your battle blender and sag against the wall in relief.

It’s the stress. Burning the candle at both ends for the past week and unsuccessfully attempting to roll with the numerous unprovoked punches has got your brain all strung out and playing tricks on you.

One by one, the lights in your cold house shut off as you double back on yourself and return to the kitchen.

No more interruptions.

You’ll eat the rest of your (now cold) dinner, wash your chopsticks and your sauce pan, and then you’ll settle into your recliner with a cup of cocoa and finally watch that movie.

The noodles are mushy in your mouth, the egg rubbery.

A ragged, frustrated sob scrapes past your teeth as you hunch over the pan.

You’re so busy trying to convince yourself that your dinner isn’t gross, that the noodles don’t look like the worms from that horror movie you watched last week, that you really shouldn’t throw it on the floor and cry, that you don’t even notice the soft footsteps of the man entering your kitchen behind you.

You don’t notice the kitchen knife that glints in his hand, or the way his eyes alight on your cellphone where you abandoned it on the counter.

You don’t notice him slip it into his pocket and settle his eyes on you.

In fact, you don’t notice him at all until his breath is on your ear, returning your greeting from earlier. “Hello.”

Both chopsticks fly out of your hand as you dive away from the voice in your ear. The shriek you utter deafens you, and the table scrapes the floor when you try to use it to push yourself away.

Hands clamp down on your arms, immobilizing you completely.

There’s a moment where your brain blanks out, and then it’s filling with answers and questions. You’re trying to cope, all whilst being held down in your own kitchen. Maybe it’s your friend from work? Maybe it’s Woosung, but would he really come back like this? Maybe it’s your neighbor—anything to manifest an answer other than the truth.

There’s a stranger in your kitchen.

There’s a stranger in your house.

His grip tightens as you thrash and scream, and suddenly you’re yanked back against your chairback and his mouth is pressed to your ear again.

“Stop screaming.”

That’s when you see the knife. It’s in the corner of your eye, reflecting light from your overhead onto your face, and you realize that he’s holding your left arm with a thumb and two fingers because the other two are gripping a blade from your knife block.

You have a damn knife block.

Why the hell did you run upstairs with an immersion blender when you have a block full of knives?

Your mouth clamps shut.

The grip on your arms loosen and your chair is suddenly being jerked away from the table.

You use the second of freedom to bolt out of your seat, arms reaching for the counter where you’d left your phone.

It isn’t there.

Before you can redirect your efforts to searching for a weapon, a hand grips your wrist and spins you around so forcefully that your shoulder twinges.

You see him now.

He looms over you, and he’s everything you’ve ever feared finding in the dark shadows of your house. His broad shoulders are cloaked in a huge black hoodie, black gloves covering his hands, a mask covering his mouth and nose and his hood drowning the rest of his face in darkness.

In the next second, the man swathed in darkness lunges at you and you crumple, screaming.

Your knees hit the floor with a painful crack, your arms whipping up to protect your face, but then he’s on you, impossibly fast.

“I told you to stop screaming.”

He wrenches your arms around behind your back, and you feel something rough wrap around your wrists—a kitchen towel binding your hands together.

When your hands are secured behind your back, his gloved hand claps over your mouth, the movement crushing you back against his chest.

Terror claws at your heart. Every muscle in your body trembles as the man pants against you and your eyes squeeze shut.

He’s going to kill you.

Or he’s going to rape you.

Or he’s going to rape you and then kill you.

“Are you going to shut up?” His voice rasps in your ear, his fingers still pressing harshly into your face.

You nod.

He waits before he lets go, as though testing the tension in your body, and then his hand falls away and he pushes you off of his chest.

The man rises and moves away from you, leaving you to sag against the kitchen cabinets as a swell of emotion leaves your body in a rush. He’s left you on the tile floor, not bothering to even look at you once he’s back on his feet.

You pull your legs under you to sit cross-legged, curiosity suddenly overwhelming the fear that has you in a vice.

He’s at your table, ignoring your pot of ramen and the cardboard box, gloved fingers picking up your laptop and flipping it over to see the manufacturer’s stickers. Then he slides the laptop into the backpack slung across his shoulders and your heart sinks for what feels like the hundredth time.

When he turns to your expensive Nikon camera next, you can’t help but let your head droop in defeat.

Of course you’re being robbed.

After everything this week already, why not?

Might as well put the icing on the cake and steal everything you own.

You almost hope he decides to kill you on his way out, so at least then you don’t have to think about waking up tomorrow with nothing at all to your name.

After sliding the professional grade camera gently into his bag, the intruder turns on his heel to reach for your purse hanging on the back of one of your chairs, and his eyes fall on your dejected form.

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, tears free falling to plop a little mascara-swirled splatter pattern into your white socks.

He puts the knife down and snatches up the purse.

A second later, though, he’s looking at you again.

He’s seen your entire house. He knows you’re struggling—from the empty living room with nothing but old furniture and a TV from 2018, to your bedroom with your empty jewelry box, to the entryway table stacked high with unpaid bills, to the empty driveway and lack of car keys—literally the only thing he’s going to get away with tonight is your relatively nice laptop (last year’s model) and the camera that probably costs the same as a new motorcycle.

Your empty house is so pathetic that he almost feels bad for taking the two electronics.

They’re literally all you have, if he doesn’t count the Walmart-brand clothing hanging in your closet and the dirty fast food uniform crumpled in the floor of your bedroom.

From where you sit on the floor, you take in a deep breath, sniffle once, and close your eyes.

A fresh round of tears splash down on your socks.

“Are you…okay?” He doesn’t know why he asks, or why he thinks he’ll get any answer other than some insult regarding his assault on your person, but he can’t help it.

Your body sways like his words have had a physical impact. “Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You hiss, and turn your head away from him.

He unzips your wallet and thumbs through the bills. There’s not a lot of money, and you don’t have any credit cards. “I could be the last person you ever talk to,” He says absently, and he’s joking, but you don’t know that. “You might as well get it all out now.”

He hears your head smack into the kitchen cabinet just before it all comes out in a devastated wail. “I just wanted to watch this stupid movie. I’ve been waiting for two weeks for it to come out so I could watch it with Woosung—”

Your boyfriend, he assumes.

“But two days ago he decided to fuck my best friend instead—”

Your ex boyfriend, he corrects himself.

“And then I got laid off because my boss found out that three quarters of his workforce is going to try to get unionized, and I already wasn’t getting paid enough to pay my bills so I had to get a second job in fast food even though I had to sell my car and the realtor is coming to look at the house tomorrow—”

He cuts you off mid-sob. “Which movie?”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

He’s now leaning against your table, fingers playing with the edge of the cardboard box that he now realizes is full of the contents of your desk, still unpacked because you clearly had to go collect your things earlier today. His backpack is on the table next to your pot of ramen, your purse still hanging on your chair with your wallet still inside.

Between the hood and the face mask, you see his eyebrows lift. “Which movie have you been waiting for?”

Your face screws up in confusion, tears and snot dripping off your chin, and your eyes dart to the living room. “It…it’s called Carry-On. On Netflix.”

The man follows your gaze, thinking for a long second, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Alright, sure. I’m down.”

Fear and confusion battle it out in your chest until you’re sure you’re having a stroke. He wants to watch a movie with you? In the middle of his robbery? “I can’t watch a movie with you.”

His face swings back around to you. “Why not?”

He sounds so genuinely curious (and a little bit offended) that you have to remind yourself to stop gaping at him.

“Because…you…you’re robbing me.” Gaze darting significantly to his backpack full of the only remnants of your livelihood, you find yourself having an even harder time understanding this turn of events than you had when he first appeared behind you.

The man lets out a scoff, head canting back as though you’ve cracked a joke. “And you’re an expert on robbing procedure?” A huffs a short laugh and tosses his hood off with a quick swipe of his hand.

Dark curls burst into view.

As he reaches for his face mask, your feet kick out on reflex and you’re suddenly fighting the stiffness in your spine to wildly turn your body away from him. Dozens of episodes of the true crime podcast you listen to every day come to mind, ringing through your skull at the implication of seeing this man’s face, and the fear sets in like a poison. “No, please don’t take your mask off—I swear I won’t report any of this—you don’t have to kill me—”

He cuts off your desperate pleas abruptly. “Babygirl, shut up and go push play.”

The completely unexpected pet name, combined with the feeling of him releasing your hands from the dish towel binding has you falling utterly still, mouth silent. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and pull your head around, and you’re faced with a young man and his dimpled smile that grins at you like you’re his best friend.

It’s weird. It’s all wrong.

“What are you going to do to me?” You whisper, edging as slowly as you can out of his grasp.

You can’t see his knife anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that this man with his huge shoulders and massive hands can’t crush you without the use of a weapon.

“I’m going to force you to watch a movie with me.”

Your face blanches at his choice of words and he leans back, exasperated. “Not like that. Go into the living room. You got any more of that?” He nods to the cocoa packet on your counter, next to the hot water kettle.

His hands on your elbows bring you to your feet, and you point shakily to the drawer beneath the counter. “In the drawer.”

The next thing you know, you’re sitting on the couch with a mug of cocoa, your robber sitting on the other end with his own cup, and you can’t even process the scenes on the TV in front of you. You’ve been wanting to watch this stupid movie for two full weeks, and now you don’t even acknowledge it.

Your limbs are as stiff as steel, your heart pounding obnoxiously in your ears, your body leaning as far away from the man who’s introduced himself as Chris as possible. Your eyes are pinned on him, memorizing the slope of his nose and the cut of his jaw and the curve of his eyes.

You tell yourself it’s to get a description for the police, but as the movie goes on and he just keeps to himself and comments on the scenes, you start to relax. It takes half an hour, but you finally allow yourself to move enough to take a sip from the cocoa in your hands.

It warms your insides, fighting against the chill of your house, and lowers your defenses ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Chris notices your eyes on him and he looks at you, one eyebrow quirked. “You don’t like the movie?”

You don’t even remember what you’re watching.

“Are you going to take my TV?”

His eyes disappear into crescents as his face breaks into a smile. “Babygirl, your TV is shit.”

There’s that pet name again.

Heat floods into your cheeks but you tell yourself it’s because he’s identified the fact that you haven’t been able to afford to replace your ancient television, even though the apps frequently crash. He’s going to kill you later when Netflix crashes and you have to get up and unplug the TV for ten seconds to make it work again.

Oh, God, he might actually kill you.

But he just goes back to commenting on the movie. “I can’t look at her without thinking Disney channel.”

You’re thinking about his backpack in the kitchen, wondering if you can get up and steal your stuff back and hide it without him noticing. You wonder where your phone went, if you left it on the bus or if you actually did leave it on the counter—which means Chris has it.

The knife he grabbed from your block is probably on the table, too. You could hide it, or take it for yourself. You just have to tell him you want a drink from the kitchen and get up—

You have a drink. It’s the cocoa he made for you.

Maybe he poisoned it? Roofied it?

But you watched him make it. You already know it’s safe.

“Did you see him in the Kingsman movies?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the screen.

You nod absently, humming a noncommittal yes as you sip from your cup.

Chris cups his own mug in both hands, his focus never leaving the TV screen. “I can’t take Jason Bateman seriously after Identity Thief.”

You’re so confused you could cry. “Why are you doing this?” You burst out, tears flooding your eyes again. “You attacked me and tried to rob me and now you’re drinking my cocoa and watching my Netflix?”

His gaze swings to you again, eyes wide with surprise. He watches you, huddled in the corner of your own couch with your knees crushed to your chest, literally shaking from head to toe, and his features soften into a smile. “I can’t do it,” He admits.

You sniffle, blinking at him.

“It’d be like that scene from the Disney Robin Hood, when the sheriff takes the kid’s birthday money. God, I still can’t watch that without tearing up.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in remembrance and then looks back at you, his lips cutely pursed.

No, not cutely.

This man tried to rob you.

He’s not cute.

“So, you’re not robbing me?”

He shakes his head with a shrug. “Nah. But don’t worry about it, your neighbors have some good shit. I’ll hit them next week, as per my original plan. And I was never going to hurt you, by the way. That’s way too high profile for me. I like to skate under the radar.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, miming his skating under the radar. After a moment, he brings his mug to his lips and muttered, “Boy did I fail tonight.”

You let your feet drop to the floor, turning to face him as some of the tension releases from your muscles. “Don’t do that—you can’t do that. Don’t rob my neighbors.”

He raises an eyebrow at you over the lip of his cup. “I will rob your entire neighborhood before I put on a uniform like the one you’ve got upstairs.”

You gasp, the creak on your stairs returning to mind. “I knew it—you were upstairs!”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. And I was soooo scared of you and your stirrer stick thing. Thanks for putting your dogs away for me—made my snooping much easier.”

You’ve forgotten about your girls, but they can wait. “It’s an immersion blender.” You snap. “And I could have blended the hell out of you.”

He fakes a shiver and makes a mocking noise of fear. “You sure we shouldn’t be watching a horror movie?”

“My life is a horror movie.” You shoot back, smacking your mug down on the side table. Returning to your earlier point, you turn back to him and almost find yourself leaning closer. “Please don’t rob my neighborhood, Chris. The people next door have me over for dinner on Sundays and the family down the street helps me with the yard work and home repairs.”

After a moment, he relents with a thoughtful nod. “Alright fine, I’ll rob your ex then.”

You can’t help the wicked pleasure that brings you. “I suppose that’s alright. I have his address in my phone somewhere.” Your eyebrows lift as you say it, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

Chris gives a little jump, like he’d totally forgotten, and then digs in the pockets of his joggers. “Oh, right. Here. I’m hoping you won’t call the cops now that we have a pact.” He bobs his eyebrows at you.

You take your phone from him and roll your eyes, finally settling into your couch with little concern for the danger from earlier. “Scare him like you scared me and we have a deal.” You can just imagine Woosung huddled in some corner of his apartment, screaming his rotten little heart out while Chris looms over him with a knife. “But, like, don’t kill him.”

Chris deflates a little, like he’d been interested in trying something new, but he jabs out a hand anyway. “Deal.”

You clap your hand into his and find yourself smiling.

When you don’t pull away immediately, Chris searches your face with soft eyes. “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”

The memory from a few days ago, finding your boyfriend of two years in your bed with your best friend comes crashing back down on you. You’re so busy fighting the rush of tears that you don’t notice that your playful handshake has turned into Chris cradling your hand in his. “He said it was a mistake.” You sniffle and turn your eyes to the TV.

Chris gives your hand a squeeze. “Me thinking I could find anything worth stealing in this house was a mistake.” He grins widely when you take the bait and slap his chest with your free hand.

It’s way flirtier than you were intending.

“He’s an asshole.” Chris says, and it helps.

“Yeah.” You agree. “They both are. You are, too, kinda.”

Chris gapes at you, actually offended. “I’m the only one who showed up for you this week, how can you say that?”

“You also tied me up and held me at knifepoint, which is definitely asshole behavior.” You realize your hand is still in his, and you pull away, but your shocked smile doesn’t leave your face.

How is this happening? This man broke into your house and you’re sitting on your couch, watching a movie and flirting with him? You must be insane.

You’re so deeply lost in your mind, questioning your own sanity, that you don’t notice how close he’s leaning to you until his breath hits your ear.

It’s a parallel of earlier, but this time the heat his closeness carries is an entirely different sort.

Your heart pounds wildly in your throat and you lean away, gawking at him. “Woah, pump the brakes, Klepto.”

He falls back against your couch, a defeated smile curling his lips as he laughs at himself. “I thought we were having a moment?”

“I’m not kissing you after you broke into my house.” You refute weakly, crossing your arms over your chest. You have to do something to put distance between the two of you, because the way Chris is looking at you is putting a fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Babygirl, the only broke in here is you.”

Your jaw hits the floor. The third use of that damn pet name is getting to you. “I can’t believe I’m being poverty shamed by the guy who steals stuff for a living.”

He practically squeaks with laughter, the movie finally forgotten. “If I go outside and knock, can I kiss you then?” Chris leans in close again, but lets himself be shoved away by your hand on his chest.

“Why don’t you try it?” Your cheeks are on fire.

Chris sighs, abandoning his efforts and leans back into his own space. “You’re not going to let me back in, are you?”

The movie fills the silence. You’re finally comfortable enough that you want to ask if you can put it back to the beginning and watch it over again, but you don’t.

It feels like only moments later that you’re being gently shaken awake, a hard warmth under your cheek.

“You’re falling asleep on me babygirl. Why don’t you go to bed?” Chris’s voice asks, and you realize you’re slumped over on his shoulder.

This man broke into your house, attacked you in your kitchen, all but called you pathetically broke, and now you’ve fallen asleep on him.

Your life is utterly wrecked.

“Don’t have a bed. I sleep here.” You mumble.

Chris freezes. “What?”

He was upstairs earlier, looking for valuables. How did he miss a detail like that?

“Sold my bedroom set,” You say. “Bought groceries and paid the mortgage. I sleep on the couch.”

Chris is suddenly scooting out from under you, carefully lowering your head to rest on the couch pillow. “Alright, go to sleep then. I’ll turn the heater on before I go, where’s your thermostat?” He smooths a hand over your hair, glancing around the walls.

“I had my heating turned off,” You explain sleepily. “Just blankets.”

Chris can’t believe he tried to rob you, and he further can’t believe how much it bothers him that you can’t afford basic necessities. “Babygirl, you can’t live like this.”

You’re already asleep.

When you wake up in the morning, huddled on the couch under an obnoxious pile of blankets, you find your laptop and your camera on the kitchen table, and Chris’s phone number scrawled onto a sticky note on your coffee table.

‘Had a great time last night. Coffee later? Also, text me your ex’s address. - Chris.’

PART 2 INFO

Hope you guys liked it! Comments make my day :)

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella

#skz #horror #stray kids #fanfic #bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan #chan x reader #bang chan fluff #crack #stray kids crack #skz crack #bangchan #christopher bang

490 notes · View notes

ren-is-real · 4 months ago

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Inanimate Insanity dash simulator (pre ep 16) (i will do more of this if this goes well probably)

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

does anyone ever get so tired they start seeing spiders lol

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

me when i lay down and hallucinate the horrors lmfao

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

what

💼 su1tcas3 Follow

Oh so this is not a safe place suddenly

2,369 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

as an unbiased outsider im cheering for them both ^^ im so excited for the finale!!!!!!!!!!!

#idk what i'll do when this ends tbh #like damn. #we'll cross that bridge when we get to it!!

19 notes

💡 brightestlight Follow

any couple can be gay if they are bisexual and their genders are weird enough

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

why did you post this directly after talking to me and test tube

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

lightbulb why did y

11 notes

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

when you want to ask someone about something but the trek is IMPOSSIBLE and you will DIE (hes downstairs setting up a party im just scared)

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

i am not giving you the aux to play green day at the party

🎤 mic-row-phoen Follow

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

ok. two songs

19 notes

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

when a fake girl tryna act like me but im the only one there is

⚙️ rowbotted Follow

REAL!!!!!

🎀 rain-bowz Follow

who are you.

📄pageperrr Follow

hey didnt you die. or something

23 notes

🌮absolutleynot-taco Follow

hey anyone know where pickle is haha. anyone know his room number or amything lol like it would justs be fun to know,,, hagaha,,,, yeagh

0 notes

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

imagine using a run down website that hasnt been relevant in YEARS. you all need to get off and go touch some grass or something jfc

🔪sharpest-tool-inthe-shed Follow

you're literally using it?

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

kill yourself

#you used to be cool man

19 notes

🎈coldairballoon Follow

i drew some vent art about old stuff.. im better now!! im just letting off some steam haha

🏆awinners-trophy Follow

this is so cringe

🎈coldairballoon Follow

you're cringe.

🍊 orange-got-juiced Follow

trophy just ran to the bathroom sobbing

27 notes

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

greetings tumbler! i an steve cobs, C.E.O of the meeple company. i am looking to get in contact with a mephone! specifically mephone 4. (model 4s) any help is greatly appreciated!

🖌️ brushedpaint Follow

go back to twitter vro 💀

817 notes

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

trying a healthier outlook on life!! i'll tell yall how it goes!!

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failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

⚾ thegrandslammer Follow

failed

8,270 notes

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

i miss egg :( i wonder where the other one the aliens mentioned went. i hope it found a parent that loves it as much as i loved egg. i mean i wasnt the best parent but uh you get what i mean

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

😜

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

???????

🪁 inanimateinsanityfan Follow

??????????what??????????

#why is steve cobs on tumblr get off

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🕯 innerflamed Follow

i need a boyfriend except he's not a boyfriend and is just some weird british guy i drag around with me everywhere

1,393 notes

🍀fourleafluck Follow

diversity win!! corrupt capitalist CEO of multimillion dollar company steve cobs is bisexual!

🌽 official-meeple-ceo Follow

who informed you of this.

🍀fourleafluck Follow

I WAS??? JOKING??????

#GUYS??? #STEVE COBS GAY ICON??? #HOLY SHIT #IM SCREAMING ITS HIS OFFICIAL ACCOUNT ITS NOT A GIMMIC #meeple

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💡 brightestlight Follow

as a member of the lgbt we do not accept steve cobs

💡 brightestlight Follow

even when he changes the meeple logo to a rainbow during pride month we dont accept him

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☯ ringinginthenewyear Follow

just to clarify yang posted this not me -yin

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🥒 pickledposting Follow

steve cobs being bi and accidentally admitting to it on tumblr was not on my 2024 bingo card ???????

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you'll be first.

🥒 pickledposting Follow

what

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#ii #inanimate insanity #inanimate insanity fanart #ii mephone4 #ii 15 #ii 16 #ii 16 spoilers #inanimate insanity spoilers #inanimate insanity 2 #fake dashboard #fake dash #steve cobs #ii fan #ii fantube #taco ii #yinyang ii #bow ii #ii suitcase

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xwritingdixonx · 1 year ago

Text

Is It Better To Speak or To Die? | Daryl Dixon |

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Masterlist

Summary: After being rescued from Woodbury by Rick's group, you struggle with living a "normal" life in the walls of the prison. The trauma's inflicted on you at the hands of the Govenour drag you to the deepest depths. A certain archer is the onyl one who can drag you back out.

Warnings: slow burn, language, smoking, grief, depression, talk of body scars, implied smut, implied past abuse, Governor (enough said)

Word Count: aprox. 10k

Era: Prison, Alexandria.

Song Recommendation: Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Ray, Would That I - Hozier

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The survivors of Woodbury had called The Prison “home” for only a week. The war and downfall of the Governor and Woodbury were still fresh in everyone’s gut, though others were making themselves comfortable very quickly. You were not. It was such an irony to you. Taking shelter in a prison as if this world wasn’t a prison. As if the traumas of the past year of survival didn’t hold you by your throat. Your own mental prison.

The bowl you held still warmed your hands. Though you knew no appetite arose in your stomach, you still took the bowl Carol offered just to be polite. Standing alone, your back leaned against the support beam of the gazebo all the benches sat under for meals. You had been a part of Woodbury...but you certainly hadn’t been a part of the community. Not near the end at least.

Most people steered clear of you. Avoiding your tired hardened eyes and threatening gazes. Avoiding the tenseness in your persona. Completely removing themselves from the possibility of having an interaction with the emotionless shell you had become. Others were compassionate, showing you any empathy they could bear. You’d get a polite head nod and warm smile occasionally, though you never returned it.

In Woodbury, no one asked questions, they talked and gossiped amongst one another but never bothered. But at the prison, you were new. Fresh meat. So in turn, you had your fair share of stares and whispers from Rick’s group.

Carol had become your latest bother. In the mornings, just like today, people would slowly make their way to line up for their share of breakfast. Your desire was to simply come out in the crisp morning air and smoke a cigarette, attempting to forget the night of terrors you encountered when you closed your eyes. You’d be sure to isolate yourself a bit away so the smoke didn’t bother anyone’s morning. But Carol simply wouldn’t accept it.

The last few days she’d noticed the lack of breakfast passing your lips. You’d smoke a cigarette and then wait to eat a proper meal for dinner. Reminding her of another certain someone.

She couldn’t make you line up and wait like everyone else. She couldn’t make you come and sit at a table and be social. So, she’d make you your own bowl and walk it over to you, giving you a polite smile, and then walk away. She did this for the past 3 days, catching onto your pattern early on.

“How’s she doing?” Rick drawled as Carol handed him his own bowl of powdered eggs and steamed potatoes. “Can bring a horse to water but you can’t make ‘em drink.” Carol joked back, Rick nodded in response and thanked her for his bowl.

Rick had been keeping an eye on you ever since you’d arrived. Unlike most of Woodbury, who willingly came running out to be rescued, you were found by Rick. The door to the room he found you in had been locked from the outside.

Everything he found out about you from that point had been from the mouths of others. You hadn’t even used words to tell him your name, he had been told by someone else. “Morning.” Rick greeted Daryl who was already almost finished his own breakfast, “Mornin’.” He stood with Daryl, neither of the men having time to sit with all the plans to improve the prison.

Daryl followed Rick’s gaze, noticing the way Rick seemed to be lost in thought. When the gaze ended on you, Daryl scoffed. “Figured that one out yet?” He asked, shoving a spoon of egg in his mouth. “Not yet.” Daryl had tried himself to scramble for puzzle pieces of you but had no success. You didn’t talk. Not a word, not even a whisper. There was a part of him that was intrigued by you, a part of him that wanted to dissect. But there was the other part that told him to mind his business.

“Good morning.” Riley begins to pass by, greeting Rick and Daryl. If the term Southern Bell was a person, that would be Riley. Blonde hair, dark emerald eyes, sweet smile, curvy in all the right places, and a smooth southern drawl. Smooth and sweet, nothing like your jagged sharp edges. Riley had been brought in with the Woodbury group and quickly made herself useful in running her mouth…but also in learning medical. “Morning.” Riley’s green eyes darted in the direction the men were looking. Because how dare their attention be on anyone but her.

“I feel so bad for her…” She commented, putting herself into their conversation. Rick and Daryl both gave each other a glance. Rick wanted to know about you from you. Not from the gossip and storytelling of others. “I swear it’s like her mouth was sewn into a frown when Jackson died.” Riley actually looked quite empathetic when she said this. “Who was that?”

“Her twin brother.”

Rick took a pause from eating his breakfast to let this new information marinate into his brain. Though neither of them asked for it, Riley continued. “When they first got to Woodbury, everything was fine. But then the Governor wanted Y/n to be one of his soldiers.” Using air quotations at the word soldiers.

“Y/n refused over and over. One night, Governor took Y/n and Jackson for a walk outside of Woodbury’s walls and Jackson didn’t come back…Governor said he got bit but…” Riley’s words trailed off as she looked at your stone-like features. “Y/n joined him after that…some people thought he killed Jackson and used it to force her to.” Her tone was uneasy as if the Governor would come to get her if she dared speak of it.

Or maybe she was more afraid of you.

“After that, I mean..” Riley scoffed dramatically and tried to ease the tension with a laugh, “I-I shouldn’t be talking about this anyway.” She gave the men a sheepish smile before swiftly walking away, joining a full table.

"Forgot how much people love to gossip huh?"

"Hmm," Daryl hummed in response. Rick took Daryl's empty bowl and stacked it on his own. "Gonna go give Judy her breakfast, alright?" As he nudged Daryl with his elbow, Daryl responded with a hum that was accompanied by a nod.

Daryl had learned the art of minding his business a long time ago. He didn't want people in his...so why pry into others?

You had finished your cigarette and smushed it into the concrete under your boot, now aimlessly poking around in the texture of the oatmeal. Carol frequently cooked her oatmeal for a tad too long and with too much liquid, giving it a mushy, snot like texture. It gave you another reason to skip out on breakfast but you at least wanted to try.

Daryl watched as you took a bite from the bowl. You moved around the food in your mouth, chewing slowly. The texture on your tongue was enough to turn you away. You looked in the direction of the bench where all of the younger children sat. Some talking with food still in their mouths. Their chattering stopped when they saw you approach like a dark gloomy cloud threatening rain.

Without saying a word, you placed your bowl in front of Patrick, offering him your share. Behind his thick glasses, he looked at the bowl then at you, and smiled. “Thanks Y/n.” You replied with a nod and walked away. Patrick was one of the few people from Woodbury who was consistently kind to you. He was always polite and never treated you any differently. You had actually heard him defend your name more than once. Perhaps he was just too young to feed into it but it was an act that didn’t go unappreciated by you.

And your act towards Patrick hadn’t gone unnoticed by Daryl. It wasn’t as if you had saved his life but you could’ve thrown your share away. Snuck over to the pig's pen and scraped it in. Instead, you gave it to a child.

Daryl would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't intrigued by you. He had never been intrigued by anyone in his life, though he couldn't deny the itch that was the mystery of you.

Two mornings after that one, Daryl had woken up particularly early. Readying himself to go outside the fences. There was a steady whisper amongst his friends the true reason he wondered out of the safety of the prison walls. The thought of The Governor still being alive haunted Daryl’s mind as it did the others. But no one would do what he did nearly every morning. No one except you.

Not many were typically up at this hour. The sun had barely risen and the morning air was still chilly from the night. When Daryl walked out into the courtyard, he didn’t expect to see you. He knew you were typically up earlier than others but not as early as him, not on days like this. You sat on the top of a picnic bench, feet planted where someone would typically sit. You faced away from Daryl but he could see the puff of smoke that typically followed you.

He could tell you weren’t in your typical nature. Despite the circumstances, you typically kept yourself put together. You wore a black long-sleeve fitted to your body and a pair of old gray sweatpants. Your hair was untamed and frizzy, having not been brushed yet. What had you up this early? What had you out of your cell so disheveled? And obviously, in such a rush?

The drag of the cigarette burned the back of your throat. It wasn’t as if you actually enjoyed smoking them. They tasted bad, itched your throat, and the smoke made your eyes water. But it felt as if holding them stopped your hands from shaking so badly every morning. It didn’t. But you’d keep lying to yourself and saying it did. You had woken up from another devilish dream, jolting you awake with a rapid heart and heavy breathing.

Typically you’d sit on the edge of your bed, head in your hands until your heart rate returned to normal. But on this particular morning, you couldn’t sit any longer in those walls, feeling the tightness of their build.

“Mornin.” He greeted you. What was he doing? Why was he even over here? Daryl’s mind ran with thoughts and questions as he awkwardly disrupted your own running mind.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing with confusion. Someone disrupting you at this time wasn’t expected. As soon as Daryl saw the harsh glare hit your features, he regretted his decision. He didn’t know what to say to you or what he was doing. Both of your heads turned at the sound of a door shutting, Carol lugging a big pot over to the serving table.

“Carol’s gonna start setting up soon…if ya wanna get outta here.” Your eyes followed Carol for a second before meeting Daryl’s.

Daryl had never seen you face to face, he’d never even spoken a word to you. Your initial glare wore off your face and you gave Daryl a single nod, standing up from the bench. Daryl caught his bottom lip and nervously chewed at it. “M’going…out” Daryl pointed in the direction of the woods, “If ya wanna come.” You glanced between Daryl and the woods and thought for a second before giving him a proper nod.

“Alright. I’ll wait for ya at the gate with my bike.”

It didn’t take long for you to meet Daryl. You’d switched your pants out with jeans and your bare feet with boots. Accompanied with your backpack and a pair of fingerless gloves to fight the chilly morning. You had obviously run a comb through your hair as well.

Daryl appreciated the space you gave him on the bike. You sat an inch or two back, your arms loose around him. Typically when people rode with him they held on tight, maybe a little too tight and too close for Daryl’s comfort, but you didn’t. A steady routine had been built between you and the archer after that morning. Along with a growing friendship.

Carol had picked up on this growing routine. By the fourth day, she began waking up even earlier, packing both of you lunches and a snack as if she were a mother sending her children to school.

The first few days your silence made Daryl uneasy. But soon, he actually began to enjoy your company. He even enjoyed your silence. It came in handy when he was tracking a deer or bunny.

The two of you had created your own language of looks, touches, and whistles. One morning you had gotten separated from Daryl while tracking and the song of the whistle was born.

The once colorful leaves were now a dirty brown and crunched awfully loud when you stepped on them. The early Fall months were slowly becoming even colder which meant being on the lookout for anything edible became far more important. Especially meat. Daryl had begun to teach you how to track on your own, which meant the two of you could cover more ground on the same hunt.

Your footsteps were steady and quiet, your eyes trained on the consistent tussle of the leaves. There was a specific herd of deer that had been on Daryl’s radar that he’d spotted a few mornings ago. Daryl walked a few feet behind you, checking that the tracks you eyed were accurate.

The leaves began to blend together, and the steady path you found was now lost from your sight. You kneeled down and dug the leaves away from the ground hoping the tracks would be embedded in the dirt. But the ground was too cold and dense to be marked with anything. It was when you turned to face Daryl and accept your defeat that he was no longer there.

A sense of panic seized through you. Your eyes scanned around the surrounding tree lines for a sign of his silhouette but you saw none. You’re fine, you told yourself, but the comfort Daryl’s presence provided was now gone and you were beginning to spiral. You didn’t know these woods well and you didn’t know your way back to the prison from here.

Out of sheer desperation, you brought your lips together and let out a two-tone whistle. You gave it a second of silence and just as you were about to repeat, a long one-tone whistle replied back. Daryl quickly came back through an opening in the trees looking as if he had run back to you. His eyes were filled with panic. “Ya alright?” You nodded, seeing him again immediately put you at ease. “M’sorry. Found the tracks, they go off this way.”

Daryl spent a lot of time studying you. It wasn’t intentional…but he couldn’t help but pay attention to every detail. He knew when something was on your mind by the way you dazed off more or the more cigarettes you smoked. Or the way you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirts and jackets. He understood the different expressions on your face and what every one of them meant. You expressed yourself a lot through your eyebrows and eyes. No matter what expression, your eyes were always filled with such sadness. You never smiled. Even on days when Daryl felt good and felt as if he was going to have some major breakthrough, you never did.

Daryl enjoyed what he’d built with you over these last few months but his mind and body were becoming restless. He yearned for you, he yearned to know you. It was like being covered head to toe in mosquito bites. And then someone tying your hands so you’d never be able to scratch them. He wanted to hear your voice and he wanted to see you smile. He told himself that if he ever got to hear you laugh, he’d start praying and going to the prison chapel.

He realized he’d never even seen your teeth before, though it was an odd thought, it would be added to the pile of things that itched and irritated.

Then there were the other thoughts. The bites that itched but also ached and throbbed. He wanted you to sit closer to him on the bike and he wanted your arms tight around his torso. He wanted to hold your hands and stop them from shaking in the morning. He wanted to keep you close after running away from a hoard.

Daryl had spent his time dissecting you like a frog in science class.

Now, he had grown impatient of dissecting. He’d never wanted anyone how desperately he wanted you. You were his sweet tooth craving, you were his stomach-decaying hunger, and you were his fucking mosquito bite. But despite all of Daryls itches and desires, he'd never try to change you. He'd never push you out of the comfort of your silence though he would always be waiting.

The time spent with Daryl had put a piece of you at ease. You’d had grown a special attachment while Daryl had practically sewn you to his hip. The only time you weren’t with him was when it came time to shower or sleep.

You met Daryl every morning at the gate, ready to go wandering amongst the trees or scavenging. Some day's you made it back in time to catch lunch together. Especially if you had an early morning catch and had to get back before the meat went rancid. Most days, you'd find a quiet and safe spot to eat the lunch Carol packed and made it back to the prison before sunset and dinner.

There was peace in this routine...but you couldn't live in this routine forever. There were other duties that needed attention around the prison. The early morning adventures had become less but the time together never changed.

When you weren't enjoying the company of Daryl, you enjoyed the company of the garden. And when it was too late in the day for either of those things, you read books about the garden and thought about Daryl. You learned what crops could be grown in the winter and then looked for their seeds in old gardening stores...with Daryl.

Some, Most, Every night you thought of him. You thought of all the things he'd taught you, of his patience with you, and all the stories he told to fill the air. He'd tell you stories of him and Merle. You wanted to tell him that you knew Merle. That when the Governor locked you away, Merle would come visit you and sneak you food. That he was kind to you despite being such a prick to everyone else.

But no matter how much time and peace Daryl provided, the nightmares never left you. You still woke up with shaky hands and a racing mind and memories of your brother. Although you did cut the habit of reaching for a cigarette. Mainly because your pack was running low and it was becoming impossible to find any more.

Unknowing to you, Daryl had been finding them while scavenging and hiding them in spots you didn't look.

You grabbed the carrot at its very base and pulled it from the soft dirt, a soft snap following. The gloves that kept your fingers from freezing were covered in mud and bits of green. It had rained in the night which made the ground perfectly soft to harvest produce. So, instead of going out this morning, you and Daryl were in the gardens. Well, Daryl followed you to the gardens and wouldn't leave.

"This one alright?" Daryl held up a cabbage with his own gloved hand only a few feet away. You glanced over and gave him a approving nod. He tossed it into the basket that already held a mixture of carrots, celery, and fresh herbs for Carol's cabbage soup.

Carol had become less of a bother to you. In fact, you'd actually created a swift routine with her. You read and researched the books about plants and gardening while she read the ones about cooking. You were the farmer while she got to play Martha Stewart.

"How's it going you two?" Rick and Carol approached the gardens with a little extra pep in their step. The rain fall had made this winter day chillier which meant everyone was bundling up and multiple fires were lit in the courtyard and cell blocks for warmth. "S'alright!" Daryl shouted as he fought with a carrot that seemed to be deep rooted in the ground. From your kneeling position on the ground, you watched Daryl with amusement as he struggled. You would’ve thought that carrot was as big as a egg plant with all his pull and tug.

“You got it Pookie?” Carol teased, Rick and her both getting their own dose of amusement. “M’fine.” With one last pull, the carrot popped from the dirt. “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’” Daryl held up the carrot, it was about the size of his thumb. You heard Rick and Carol have their own set of laughter, “Maybe you should stick to huntin’ those deer.” Rick said between a few chuckles. Daryl scoffed and tossed the baby carrot into the basket, as he kneeled down to continue picking, he caught your expression.

It was so small he could’ve missed it but he didn’t and he was so glad he hadn’t. You looked back down towards the dirt, a smirk tugging up the corners of your lips and poking your cheeks, dimpling them. For a second, it felt as if someone had punched Daryl in the chest. But it was there just as fast as it was gone.

From that moment on, Daryl wanted nothing more than to feel that again…as did you. You felt foolish. There was this awful gnawing inside you that was telling you every day what you already knew within your heart. He was chipping away at every wall you’d built up and beginning to break down the wall to a very soft spot of you. You had begun to feel like a turtle removed from its shell. Mushy, sensitive, and vulnerable. Gross.

"Hey Y/n!" The youngest Greene girl greeted. The community of the prison had begun to warm up to you. They no longer avoided you like the plague opting to actually say "hello" or "good morning" or maybe even a "goodnight." It had become very well known the closeness Daryl and you held and if people knew, people talked.

You looked up from your current book to Beth standing in the doorway of your cell clutching a small pile of tan books to herself. "Can I..come in?" She awkwardly shuffled her feet farther in and adjusted the books, you nodded. Beth let the curtain that covered your doorway drop and happily took a seat on your bed. You sat up straight and set your book of, Wildflowers Of All Seasons, on the bed beside you. While you adjusted yourself, Beth seemed to be studying your room.

It was more decorated than she had imagined. Your cell was on the upper level, one down from Daryl's. You had a very small wooden nightstand beside your bed that had various half-melted candles. Their wax dripped down the sides and embedded itself into the wood. On the wall across from your bed stood a very slim wooden table.

It was decorated with different trinkets and bottles you'd scavenged, a zippo lighter, and a stack of your growing book collection. Shoved underneath was a wire basket that held all your clothes. Your only 2 pairs of boots and bookbag sat beside it. Your everyday black, fleece-lined jacket was hung off the pole of your bed.

"I found these in the library and thought you might like them." Beth laid out the books on your bed, making it a point to show you every single one of them. Peterson - Field Guide to... They all read. They were very small and slim, a pale shade of tan, with various illustrations on the front pertaining to the title. Perfect to slip into your bag.

"I thought they'd be nice for you to carry when you go out in the mornings." Beth watched as you examined each book, "I wanted to grab them for you before anyone else found 'em." Beth held a very innocent hopeful smile the whole time she spoke to you but your silence was causing her to become uneasy. You picked up a specific one, Field Guide to Animal Tracks. You looked up at the girl and gave her a thin-lipped smile to show your appreciation.

A wide smile formed on her face and she left with a very sweet "Goodnight."

Glenn relieved Daryl from watch tower duty later than expected. It had to of been close to midnight when he got back to his cell. As he walked by your cell, he carefully peeled back your green curtain to check on you. You were a restless sleeper, Daryl heard you almost every night tossing and turning or waking up with a jolt.

Most of your features were concealed by the darkness but from what was visible, you appeared to be in a peaceful sleep. There was a veil of softness to you when you slept. A softness and calmness that never graced you during waking hours. He knew it wouldn’t last very long but he wanted to ensure that at least right now, you were okay. But he could not stand and watch all night. He felt creepy enough.

Daryl noticed the little tan book sitting on his bed as soon as he pulled back his curtain. The moonlight slightly gleamed off the sleek shiny cover. Field Guide to Animal Tracks. As Daryl flipped the book open to its title page, he felt his ears and cheeks warm up. Thankfully the darkness concealed his cheeky smile.

To Daryl. Not like you need it. - Y/n.

The group of deer that Daryl had spotted a month ago was still high on his radar. Though he still had yet to actually catch any of them.

The cabbage soup was still hot in your thermal, emitting a cloud of steam when you popped off the lid. You and Daryl sat in each other's company in your typical spot. A large tree had fallen down just at the entrance to a clearing in the woods providing a perfect resting spot. Had it been Spring or Summer you could only imagine the beauty of the green scenery. But this cold winter didn't provide much besides dry grounds, barren trees, and a frozen pond.

There was a peaceful silence that settled, as it always did. You both ate your soups and turned the pages of your books. Surprisingly, Daryl had actually learned a good bit from the book you gifted and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Ask ya something'?" You broke your concentration from your book and looked to Daryl. "Ya know why I started coming out here in the first place, right?"

You took a second to think before hesitantly nodding. "Ya never said anything." Daryl truly never understood why. He never hid it from you but still, you never asked questions. You didn't ask what the notes were on all the maps he had, never asked where you were going, or when you'd be back. But he always knew that you knew he wasn't just hunting deer, he was hunting the governor. "What would ya do...? If you ever got to him?"

Perhaps Daryl had pushed too far. Your head snapped back down to your book, though Daryl knew you weren't actually reading anymore. Your eyes were out of focus and your lips formed a frown. You had never taken the time to think about it. You just knew you wanted him to suffer.

Daryl hadn't spoken another word to you since lunch knowing he had poked at a very sensitive subject. "Wait here a second," Daryl said just as you made it back to his bike. He jogged back into the tree line leaving you sitting on the bike, awaiting his return. Daryl returned soon after, a cluster of bright yellow daffodils in hand. You gave him a puzzled glance but as he held out his hand and said, for you, you felt the urgency to cry. Your nose burning up with tingles and your eyes becoming glazed.

"Thought ya might like 'em, I saw them in your book earlier." Your hand gently took them from Daryl's and you stood still. Very still.

Daryl awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "They're uh...daffodils, right? Start bloomin' late January into March?" He had secretly been sneaking reads of your books over your shoulder. It was so fast it startled him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into you, every muscle in his body stiffened. Daryl was reluctant to hug you back but he gave into his heart and gently laid his arms around your torso. The large jackets you both wore proved to be a barrier from feeling the true touch of the other.

“Thank you.” Your words were raspy and just above a whisper. Had you not been so close, Daryl probably would’ve missed them. “Course.” His words were mumbled against your shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal. A low groan in the distance disrupted your short moment of peace, telling you it was about time to go.

The sun was beginning to set when Daryl’s bike rode up the gravel path to the prison. The smell of a brewing soup hit your nose as the two of you began to walk closer to the dining area. “Find a table, I gotcha.” Daryl’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a second longer than it typically did. Despite wearing such a thick layer of clothes, it was as if you could still feel his touch. Even after he was already at the serving table striking up a conversation with Carol.

You sat your pack down at the usual table. It was farthest to the left, farthest away from all the other tables. “Mind if we join you?” Glenn asked, he and Maggie both holding a steaming bowl. Just as you were about to take your own seat, a loud chuckle sounded snapping you around.

“Oh come on Y/n.” Two men had been walking past on their way to fetch their own dinners. You recognized them, they were commonly on wall duty at Woodbury. The taller one motioned to the flowers that poked out from the front pocket of your jacket. “You can’t be serious.” You could feel your heart drop to the very pit of your stomach. It was as if your body was preparing you for the merciless mocking that was sure to come.

“You’re telling me the Governor’s number one soldier is walking around with flowers in her pockets?”

Stop.

You wanted to say but the words became a ball in your throat. Your eyes darted off to the side. All of a sudden, you didn’t know where to look or what to do with your hands or how to stand properly on your feet. You knew the truth behind their “jokes”.

You are not soft. You are not delicate. You are not loveable.

“The hell are ya doin?” Daryl had practically appeared out of thin air, putting himself between you and the men. You saw this as an opportunity to make an escape for your cell block.

“We were just teasing man. We were friends in Woodbury, just joking around.” They still had slimy smirks on their faces that only poked Daryl even more.

Daryl was fuming. “Didn’t look like she was fucking laughin’.” He took a step closer. “She never fucking laughs!” Before Daryl could unleash his fiery rage, Rick intervened. Rick beckoned Daryl to walk away, mumbling that everyone was looking. “Hell if I care.” Daryl snapped swinging his arm in the air. He turned on his boot and snatched up your pack that you’d left behind before going off to find you.

Daryl hadn’t found you in any of your traditional spots. He checked your cell, the library, the garden, and even the showers. He asked everyone he walked past if they’d seen you but no one had, it was as if you just vanished. And the thought of that was throwing Daryl into a deep pit.

The prison chapel had been restored and decorated by Carol to be used for the grieving prison folk. She had put as many candles as possible on a long wooden table. They had been burned and replaced so frequently that the wax dripped down the sides of the table and dropped dots on the floor. There were many different pictures of lost family members or lovers littering the table…it was quite depressing truthfully. The glow of the candles lit up the room and cast an orange glow on your sad features.

You didn’t look at Daryl as he sat down beside you.

“Didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.”

It was an odd thing…to hear you speak so openly but Daryl wasn’t opposed. “I just…” Your voice was hoarse and low, as low as a whisper. “I find this a way to be with my brother.” Daryl had gotten so used to silence that it almost startled him to hear so many words come from your lips. You shook back the hair that fell on your face and let out a deep sigh, resting your back flat against the wooden church pew. Daryl didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to scare your voice away, he just wanted to listen.

“I hope that doesn’t sound foolish.”

“It doesn’t.” Daryl shifted himself closer to you. “It doesn’t.” He repeated, his thigh pressed against yours. And for some reason, you felt the need to spill your guts. Perhaps being in a church would drag you to confess. “I-uhmm…I never fought against the prison. I refused to do any of it. I truthfully didn’t care if he killed me for it.” You didn’t have to explain yourself to Daryl but you felt the need to. If what you felt towards him was what you thought, you had to. “But, he just locked me in my room. Wouldn’t let me out.” Somehow, Daryl knew. He never saw you with the Governor, never saw you fighting. And when Rick told him the locked room he found you in, he pieced it together.

“Everything is true though. Everything they say about me, everything he made me do before that.”

Daryl didn’t care, he never had. Daryl cared that you didn’t want to. He cared about the fact that you were forced to. You shrugged your shoulders and looked off, “I’m as guilty as they come.”

Daryl couldn’t stand the sad look on your face, “Alright then…put yer hands behind yer back. I’ll take ya to your cell.” His joking manner caught you so off guard that a laugh escaped you. It was airy and gentle. He truly couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. And Daryl was in church.

Daryl returned to his serious demeanor to reassure you, “I care about how he hurt ya, Y/n. Don’t care what you did.”

Your eyes found Daryl’s in the dimly lit room and for a second you felt it, deep within your chest. And it ached and feared but it also loved. “Good.” You couldn’t fight the smile that squeezed your cheeks as you looked at him. Your eye contact broke allowing silence to welcome itself back. But only for a short time. “Daffodils are the birth flower of March…Jackson and I were born in March.”

After that night in the chapel, Daryl wanted nothing more than to hear your voice. It felt like his ears were filled with honey every time you spoke. It was raspy yet smooth with a hint of a southern drawl from growing up in Georgia. A thick rich honey that he wanted in a cup of hot tea and to take down his throat.

Winter was soon turning to Spring. The sky was bluer and most days the sun shined. The green of the grass and trees were returning. The garden was beginning to look even more promising come warmer weather. And just as the flowers were beginning to take bloom, so were you.

Your hard demeanor had softened, especially for Daryl. You still didn’t talk to many people besides him but you said a word or two when you wanted. Daryl took it upon himself to give Jackson a “grave” where the others were. It was just two pieces of wood, formed into a cross with his name carved in it, planted into the ground. “So that ya don’t have to go down to the chapel. Ya can be outside with him and the garden and stuff.” He had said when he showed you.

“It’s rotten work trying to find these deer.” You and Daryl strolled the wooded area, eyes on the deer tracks that embedded themselves in the dirt. Daryl shushed you and continued his concentration on the tracks. You smiled to yourself and shook your head. “I was rotten work…at the beginning.”

“Nah ya weren’t, not to me.” Daryl didn’t even hesitate, he didn’t even turn look at you. He just continued walking ahead of you, following the tracks.

The two of you settled in your usual spot. Leaning against the fallen tree at the opening to the clearing in the woods. You were right about the clearing looking more beautiful in the warmth of Spring. The trees were plump with fresh green leaves and the water in the pond sparkled under the sunlight. The grass grew tall with a mixture of white and yellow wildflowers. Your fingers ran the edge of the book page as you turned it.

Your current book was, Field Guide to Medical Plants and Herbs. There was some type of cold floating around the prison and finding the medical supplies to treat it was sparse and you’d do anything you could to help.

Daryl was interrupted from tending to his bow by your elbow jabbing his side. Without looking at him, you held up a folded piece of paper and pen. Daryl gave you an odd glare before plucking them from your fingertips. You did this often. When you couldn’t be bothered to use your voice or if you didn’t want to break concentration from a book.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

Daryl could feel his heart begin to quicken its pace within his chest. He didn’t know what your words meant but at the same time, he did.

The folded paper got tossed back into your lap.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

Just then, a rustling sound sounded from within the trees from across the clearing. You gripped for your blade as Daryl grabbed for his bow. Two deers came through the trees, their white and tan tails flicking back and forth. You could’ve sworn you heard Daryl stop breathing for a second. Daryl slowly leaned up on his knees, bow in hand raising to his eye. Your eye caught it before Daryl’s did.

Another deer emerged from the trees, a fawn close behind her…and then another. “Don’t.” You brought your hand to Daryl’s bow and lowered it to point at the ground. He went to protest but when he saw the twin fawns happily nibbling at the tall grass, he stopped. It was a beautiful sight, as were you.

When your eyes broke away from the deers and to him, that’s when he decided. Daryl cupped your cheek lightly and met your lips with his. His lips were gone just as fast as they were there but his hand didn’t leave. He was still so close that your lips feathered his. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him down to you again.

What happened that day was never spoken of. But as Daryl sat in the darkness of the train cart in Terminus, he so deeply wish it had been.

But now, you were gone as was the prison. The look on your face, when the Governor stood outside the prison, was burned into Daryl’s eyelids. The way your chest heaved with anger, your hands shook with rage, and revengeful teary eyes stared off. The last he saw was you slipping out through the prison fence to go after him. Daryl yelled at you to not do it, to come with him, but you didn’t listen. You’d let yourself die if it meant you finally got your hands on him and Daryl knew it.

You could be dead. You could’ve died weeks ago fighting the Governor. You could be out there alone and starving and scared. Or you could be just fine. Daryl would never know.

When Terminus fell and he watched Rick cuddle and kiss Judith in his arms, he had a surge of hope. And when he saw Carol alive, he had more hope. As everyone said hello, it was as if he waited, waiting for you to magically appear. “Nobody has Y/n?” A deafening silence followed, quieter than you ever were. “Daryl…” Michonne stepped towards him. As he went to walk away, she stopped him placing a hand on rising his chest. “Darlyl. I’m not saying she didn’t make it. I’m just saying she didn’t look good.”

“Yeah? And you didn’t help her?” Daryl snapped shoving her hand off his chest. “Get off me.” Daryl seethed with hot tears in his icy blue eyes. It became an unspoken rule to not speak your name around him.

Your hand pressed firmly on the wound that oozed blood down your side as you limped your way into the cell block. Your right side was stained in the crimson color, all the way down to the knee of your jeans. You strained and let out a groan of pain as you took a step up the stairs that led to your cell. You didn’t need to look at yourself to know you looked awful. The walkers that completely ignored your existence when you limped by them told you enough.

Your entire torso throbbed in pain. The bruising from the kicks you took to the stomach were forming and it felt impossible to move. Your head felt like tv static and you had an undying desire to sleep. But you couldn’t. You likely had a concussion and knew that if you slept now, you wouldn’t be getting back up. Besides, you had to find Daryl. There was a hope that he’d stayed in the area and you’d find him if you just looked. You knew the woods around here well, you could find him. He was waiting for you, he had to be.

In your fuzzy state of mind, you threw whatever you touched into your pack. You changed out of ruined clothes and into clean ones. When the collar of your shirt dragged down your face, you let out a whimper of pain as it got caught on your bottom lip. There was a cut that dragged from the under your left nostril, across the left corner of your lips, and ended at the bottom of your chin.

It became a blur how you left your cell safely and ended up on the path Daryl and you walked every morning. You had to get to your spot. The spot with the fallen tree and clearing. Daryl would wait for you there. You were sure of it. When you got there and he wasn’t there, it was okay, you told yourself. You just had to wait for him.

You lowered yourself to the ground, a few whimpers of pain escaping your lips. With your back resting against the tree and arm draped over your mid section, you slipped into unconscious. You awoke to the sound of a man’s voice. “Hey, hey.” He said trying to wake you but your eyelids were too heavy to lift and you felt the weight of every muscle in your body. “Heath! Go tell Laura to bring the car around. We gotta take her back.”

“It’s a ten hour drive back Aaron, you think she’s gonna make it?”

“I don’t know.”

You awoke with a slight jolt. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes as your eyes dilated to the bright and unfamiliar room. Your body ached but the softness of the mattress you laid on seemed to comfort it. “Pete, go get Deanna.” Aaron instructed, sitting up in his seat next to your bedside. Your eyes wandered the room, trying to figure out where you were. “Hey. I’m Aaron. You’re in the infirmary in a community called Alexandria.” You looked to the man that sat to your right. He had a very kind face and gentle eyes. His clothes were perfectly clean and his curly brown hair was freshly washed and fluffy.

“Myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast to look for survivors to bring here.” Aaron clarified further, “We found you and brought you back, you were in really bad shape…you still…you still kind of are.”

Aaron could see the confusion and panic drawn on your face. Your head snapped to the door when you heard footsteps on the polished wood floors. “Hi” Deanna gently said approaching your bedside. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up. What’s your name?”

Your mouth hung open for a second, your mind still wasn’t clear, and you had no clear memory of the last three days. “Y/n” You finally replied, voice hoarse and raspy. Deanna smiled at you, “Where am I?” You asked finally finding your voice. Deanna and Aaron exchanged a glance, “You’re in a safe community called Alexandria in Virginia.”

Virginia?

You could feel your world begin to tumble, a thousand thoughts racing your mind. You were so far away from Georgia. You were away from home. Away from Daryl. “No.” You attempted to pull yourself out of the bed but were stopped by Aaron softly holding you back. “No, no, no.” You repeated and dropped your head down into your hands as panicked sobs racked your chest. “Pete! Go get her something to calm down.”

You didn’t want pills to help calm down. You wanted to go home. You wanted to be with him. You sat yourself up in the bed despite the pain in your torso telling you not to. “Daryl?” You asked Deanna. She could see the desperation in your teary eyes, “I’m sorry we only found you.”

Aaron sat up from the dirt floor of the barn after Rick had knocked him unconscious. Rick’s group continuously went back and forth with one another debating their plan. Once they finally decided and everyone was being assigned a position, Rick turned to Daryl. “Daryl, go keep an eye-“

“Wait, Daryl?” Aaron interrupted Rick’s order from his spot on the floor. He felt everyone’s eyes on him in an instant. “Daryl Dixon, right? Y-you knew an Y/n?” Daryl stomped over to Aaron and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him close. “How the hell ya know Y/n?” Daryl’s tone was threatening yet shaky. Aaron knew if he didn’t start talking he’d end up back on the floor.

“She’s in Alexandria, she lives with me, she’s safe! A-a little over a month ago, myself and others were on a trip along the East Coast looking for survivors. We found her in the woods down in Georgia.” Aaron took a pause, “She was in really bad shape, we brought her back and she’s been there ever since.”

“She talks about you all the time.” Daryl’s hand shook around the fabric of Aaron’s shirt, his eyes studied his face trying to find any indicator that he was lying. ”I don’t fuckin’ believe ya.” The thought of you being alive and safe comforted Daryl but he wouldn’t so easily believe a stranger. “I’m not lying, I swear.” Aaron frantically said, “She-she gave me something to give to you. It’s in the front pocket of my bag.”

Daryl shoved Aaron back to the ground with a thud. Rick tossed Aaron’s bag to Daryl, practically tearing off the zipper getting into it. Daryl’s unsteady hands pulled out the familiar small tan book. As he flipped open to the title page, he read the words you’d written to another that day.

There’s so many things I want to say to you.

So say them.

As Daryl read the new words you’d written, he could feel the lump forming in his throat.

It was easier to die than to say them.

“I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Aaron joked attempting to lighten the mood. Rick’s gruff voice responded, “Shut up.”

The sun shined in Alexandria despite the rainstorm that came through the night before. You found yourself where you always were, in the gardens. The heavy rain had bent many of the plants out of shape and the raised wooden garden beds were flooded. The mixture of water and grass squelched under your boots as you examined the damage. With a deep sigh, you pulled out a box of cigarettes from your back pocket along with a zippo lighter. It wasn’t a habit you proudly picked back up. But after the fall of the prison and Daryl no longer being there to help you, it found its way back.

You tilted your head up to the sky and blew the smoke from your lips. You closed your eyes and let the sunlight cast its rays onto your face. And as you did, you tried to imagine that you were standing in the garden of the prison again. That Daryl stood only a few feet away, fighting with a vegetable, and cursing as he did.

“Hey Y/n.”

Spencer disrupted your daydream, standing a few feet away and calling out your name. “Sorry,” He jokingly held up his hands in surrender, “Aaron’s back, he asked for you at the gate.” Aaron had returned to Alexandria several times over the past month with new faces. Every time you’d go to the gate and wait for him to return, your heart full of hope. But every time the same disappointment rained down on you. It was never who you wanted, it was never him. So, when Aaron told you about a group he’d been tracking and trying to bring back, you didn’t care to listen. You saved my ass and now you think you can save everyone? You said to him a few nights ago.

“Going.” You replied bluntly. You wouldn’t allow your hopes to grow just to be smashed into pieces. Your eyes were on the ground as you walked to the front gate, cigarette dangling from your lips, and hair falling in your face. Spencer talked his jaw off beside you, every word he spoke going in one ear and out the other. But the sound of a familiar whistle vibrating against your eardrums perked your head up in an instant.

You tossed your cigarette from your mouth and found your way back to him. Daryl met you halfway, his arms desperately pulling you in close. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, feeling his shaky breaths on the skin of your own. Your hair was soft and smelled of shampoo. Daryl grasped the fabric of your shirt that smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

When Daryl pulled away to look at you, he finally saw the fresh scar drawn on your lips. He wanted to scold you. To tell you how foolish you'd been to go after the Governor alone. "Ya got him?" Was all he could bring himself to ask. You avoided answering but you nodded, "Come on, I wanna go see everyone else."

Despite the group still not fully trusting Alexandria, they felt more at ease knowing you’d been kept safe here. After helping Rick settle the group into the Alexandrian homes, you sat on the front porch with Daryl. Daryl hadn’t let you out of his sight for a second. Everything you did and every where you went, he was there. Besides when Carol shoved him away to shower.

The two of you passed back and forth a lit cigarette, comfortable in the silence of the night air. “Tara asked me about the Governor.” Your words were quiet just incase anyone were listening. Daryl looked to you. “Yeah?” With a deep sigh, you blew the smoke from your mouth. “Yeah…asked what he did to me.”

Daryl could see the way the thought of it dragged your lips into that familiar frown. “Told her I didn’t wanna make her guilty conscious even worse.” You said it as if it was meant to be a joke but Daryl saw through it. “It’s gettin late.” Daryl begin to break you from those thoughts. He was right. The sun had set about an hour ago and everyone was setting up their beds for the night.

“Ya ah….Ya gonna go home?” Daryl didn’t want you to leave, he never wanted to be without you again. “I am home.” There was no hesitation in your reply. Daryl’s eyes snapped to yours in an instant. “Ain’t what I meant.” You stood from your spot and reached a hand out to him, “Come with me.” Daryl glanced between your hand and your eyes. The night was dark and the porch light dim but you could see the rosy color blotch at his cheeks. You lightly kicked his foot with your own, “Just wanna show you where I’ve been staying.”

Your room was in the fully furnished basement of Aaron and Eric’s home. Aaron had welcomed you in, knowing you couldn’t be on your own in your condition. The stairs were on the farthest right wall of the basement, leading you down into a lounge like area with tan carpet and white walls. An L shaped leather couch sat in front of a, now useless, flat screen TV. Past the couch, on the back wall, stood two white doors. Daryl presumed behind one of them laid your bedroom.

You walked him over to the left door and pushed it open. There was nothing special about your room. Simply a bed, two nightstands, a dresser, and a bookshelf in the corner. You sat at the foot of your bed, Daryl took it as a sign to do the same. “I’m sorry Daryl.” Your voice was just above a whisper, avoiding his eyes when you spoke. “I should’ve looked harder for him…I shouldn’t of gotten so distracted.” Your head hung low in shame, “I should’ve talked about that day..in the woods.” The dimly lit room hid the tears that fell from your eyes. “I should’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“We should’ve.” Daryl corrected you, stopping all your blabbering. Your watery eyes met his with a look of confusion. “Everythin’ ya said. I was there too. S’not all your fault Y/n.” The impact of Daryl’s words made you go quiet. “Ain’t yer fault what he did to you either.”

“I love you.”

Daryl had never shut his mouth so fast in his life. You weren’t sure where your outburst of confidence came from but you didn’t regret it. You accepted it every waking day and every sleepless night you were apart from him. “Nah, ya don’t.” Daryl rejects your confession at the grace of his own insecurity. Your hands raise themselves to his face, a stern look gracing your features. “I have since the prison.”

Daryl didn’t know what to do. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest and the warmth from your hand on his cheek. You gently lean in before connecting your lips with his. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his own. If you had just ruined everything Daryl and you had, you at least wanted to bask in his presence one last time. “I love ya too.” Daryl leaned back in, capturing your lips in his.

The night you’d spent together was full of gentle touches and whispers. The only time silence happened was the sleep bestowed upon you afterwards. Your bedroom was dimly lit come morning time. The only windows in your room were up towards the ceiling, just above ground level. For the first time since Jackson died, you woke up peacefully. No panic attack awaiting you, no need to run away and fill your lungs with smoke. Feelings of the night before returned to your mind, memories in vivid detail. Daryl awoke when he felt the movement of the sheet from beside him.

With your back turned to him, Daryl took it upon himself to graze the skin of your bare back with his fingertips. He caught a glance at the deep scarring along your side. The gash had turned into a raised, dark pink, bruised color on your skin. Daryl could see shadow of lines covering its length from the stitches that had held it together.

As his fingertips traveled down, they stopped on another scar. The left side of your lower back was imbedded with the letter “G”. The scarring of the initial raised your skin, though it wasn’t pink and bruised like the other. It had healed to a shade paler than your skin tone. Daryl simply couldn’t believe it. Fucking bastard.

“Branding iron.” You begin, voice slightly rasp from sleep. “Never did it to anyone else…just me.” Daryl’s hand fell from your back, “Come here.” You reluctantly did so, turning to face him. His hand found the side of your face that didn’t rest on the plush pillow. His facial expression’s became serious but his eyes remained gentle. “Ain’t gonna let no one treat you like that ever again. Ya feel like someone breathes around ya the wrong way, you tell me alright?” You playfully rolled your eyes, a cheeky smile forming but you still replied “Alright.”

Daryl thumb drug along your bottom lip, stopping at the pale scar. “Promise ya won’t ever stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“…Bein’ happy.”

–––––––––––

A/n: I've proof read this over and over so I hope everyone is able to enjoy it and theres no mistakes! If anyone would like to submit a request, feel free too. If it's a project i'd be willing to take on, I will try my best to get to it.

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theofficalnarrator · 1 month ago

Text

Old With You

Summary: Some moments of Sophia and Y/N acting like an old married couple. Currently playing: Old With You by Grent Perez

Warnings: Both are kinda mean occasionally, some angst, fluffy!

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[INTRO]: KATSEYE SOPHIA AND Y/N BEING AN OLD MARRIED COUPLE FOR 12 MINUTES STRAIGHT (GAY)

---

[CUT TO: Soft music plays as the screen fades in from black, revealing the exterior of the Katseye house. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the neighborhood. The camera zooms in on the front door, which swings open to reveal Sophia, still in her pajamas, a bright smile on her face.]

“Good morning, everyone! Welcome to a ‘Day in the Life of Katseye!’ We’re so excited to take you along with us today!”, The Filipina says, all too brightly for the morning. The camera crew follows Sophia as she walks into the kitchen, where the smell of coffee fills the air. She heads straight for the coffee maker, pouring herself a steaming cup. The leader makes a show, grabbing the cup and sniffing the bittersweet aroma of the coffee, taking a dramatic sip. She then turns to the camera

"Now, let’s see if we can wake up Y/N.”

[CUT TO: The camera shifts to Y/N’s bedroom door. Sophia knocks lightly before opening it, revealing Y/N still snuggled under the covers, her hair a messy halo around her head.]

[she's so cute omg]

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead! Time to wake up!”, Sophia says, opening the blinds, sunlight streaming through.

Y/N groans, turning away from the light, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Five more minutes, please…”

Sophia rolls her eyes, a grin spreading across her face as she approaches the bed. She's keeping her calm in front of the Geffen staff, her smile forced. This was the 5th time the sleepy girl had said that.

“You said that five minutes ago! Come on, I made coffee! It’s the good stuff!”, Sophia says brightly, pulling the blanket off of Y/N.

[CUT TO: A close-up of Y/N’s face as she cracks one eye open, squinting at the light.]

“Some people need their beauty sleep…”, Y/N says, turning and shoving her face into the pillow. "Course you wouldn't know that." Sophia chuckles, sitting on the edge of the bed and playfully ruffling Y/N’s hair.

When the camera crew move the camera away for a second, Sophia leans in and whispers, "Get the fuck up, bitch, and drop the attitude".

When Sophia notices the camera crew moving the camera back she smiles again and animatedly says ,“Beauty sleep? You’re already beautiful, even with bedhead! But seriously, you’ll miss out on pancakes if you keep snoozing.”

Y/N finally sits up, the blankets slipping down to her waist, revealing her pajama shirt which is cropped Jungkook Princess Diana shirt that she stole from a certain K-pop fan.

She rubs her eyes and lets out a dramatic sigh. “Fine, fine. You win. But only because you promised me pancakes for breakfast.”

Sophia laughs, “I did promise, didn’t I? But only if you help me make them. Deal?” Y/N grumbles and nods. Sophia stands up, heading toward the kitchen with a playful glint in her eyes, thankful that Y/N dropped the attitude... for now.

[CUT TO: The camera follows them into the kitchen, where the morning light brightens the space. Y/N joins Sophia, who is already gathering ingredients for pancakes.]

Y/N stretches, her shirt riding up, causing Sophia to poke her stomach. Y/N swats her hand away, giving the camera a "Look at this guy" look. Sophia giggles, and the two begin to prepare breakfast together, their playful banter filling the air.

“Alright, let’s get started! First, we need flour, eggs, and—”

“And chocolate chips! Don’t forget the chocolate chips!”, Y/N interrupts.

[domestic sophy/n]

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[CUT TO: Soft music illuminates the letters "Katseye at the Grocery Store". The scene transitions to a bustling grocery store, filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter. The camera focuses on Sophia, Y/N, and Yoonchae walking through the aisles.]

Sophia and Yoonchae are walking in front, Y/N behind them pushing a grocery cart. “Hey, Eyekons! We’re here at the grocery store with our favorite little troublemaker, Yoonchae!” Sophia announces, her voice cheerful as she gestures to the youngest member of their group, who is bouncing with excitement.

[they're like a family they're like a family they're l- *GUNSHOTS*]

Yoonchae, with her playful grin, looks up at Sophia. “Can we get some candy? Pleeeeeease?” She tugs at Sophia’s sleeve, her enthusiasm infectious. It's clear staying with the Kats has improved her English and made her a lot more spoiled.

Sophia raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You know the rules, Yoonchip. Too much sugar isn’t good for you. We’re here to shop for groceries, not sweets.”

Y/N, who has been quietly observing, smirks at Sophia’s stern expression. “Come on, Soph. A little treat won’t hurt.”

Sophia narrows her eyes at Y/N. “You’re not helping, you know. We’re supposed to be responsible adults here.”

Y/N shrugs, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. “Responsible adults can have fun too. Right, Yoonchip?” The youngest responds with a vigorous nod, her excitement bubbling over.

Sophia sighs dramatically, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Fine, but just one treat. And then we’re back to business, okay?” Yoonchae cheers, and the trio heads toward the candy aisle.

[CUT TO: Inside the candy aisle, colorful jars of sweets line the shelves. Yoonchae’s eyes widen as she takes in the sugary paradise.]

Yoonchae is practically bouncing on her toes. “Can I get gummy bears? Please?”

Sophia shakes her head, trying to maintain her composure. “You can pick one thing, and that’s it. Remember, we have to eat healthy. Diet.”

Yoonchae pouts, but Y/N leans down to whisper conspiratorially, “I’ll get you some gummy bears on the side, okay? Just don’t tell Sophia.” Yoonchae’s eyes light up, and she nods eagerly.

Sophia, oblivious to the secret plan, continues to browse the store. “Alright, pick your one treat, Yoonchae. We don’t have all day. The Korean girl quickly grabs a bag of gummy bears, her face beaming with joy.

As they head to the checkout, Y/N discreetly slips a second bag of gummy bears onto the conveyor belt, winking at Yoonchae, who stifles a giggle.

[CUT TO: Outside the candy store, Sophia is checking her phone, while Y/N and Yoonchae share a knowing look.]

“Thank you, Y/N!” Yoonchae whisper-yells, her eyes sparkling.

Y/N ruffles Yoonchae’s hair. “Just don’t let Sophia find out, okay? It’ll be our little secret.”

Sophia looks up, sensing something. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing!” The two say in unison.

[CUT TO: The two schemers give the camera and wink and a parting wave, Sophia somewhere in the back talking about what to make for dinner, still oblivious.]

[I just know y/n would be a good mom]

---

[CUT TO: The scene transitions to a cozy, softly lit interview room. The camera is set up to capture the Katseye girls sitting side by side on a comfortable couch. A warm ambiance surrounds them, with gentle music playing in the background. The interviewer, off-camera, begins to ask questions.]

“So, you guys have been through quite a journey together. What’s it like living with each other day in and day out?”

Sophia smiles, her eyes sparkling with affection as she glances at each of the girls, her eyes lingering slightly on Y.N. However, there’s a hint of vulnerability in her expression as she raises her mic to her lips.

“Honestly, it’s like being in a friendship. We bicker a lot", She says as she giggles softly ,"but at the end of the day, we love each other fiercely. These girls are my rock.”

Lara squeezes Sophia’s hand gently, offering her silent support. Sophia takes a deep breath, her voice wavering slightly as she continues. “But sometimes, it can be overwhelming. I mean, we’re both trying to navigate our careers and personal lives, and it can get really emotional.”

The camera zooms in on Sophia’s face, capturing the glimmer of tears forming in her eyes. Y/N immediately notices, her expression shifting to one of concern.

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable.” The other girls agree, quick to support their leader.

[AHHH, she's touching someone willingly! AHHH]

Sophia shakes her head, a small smile breaking through her emotional state. She chuckles, sniffling, “No, I want to. I just… sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough, you know? Like I’m letting everyone down.”

Y/N leans closer, wrapping an arm around Sophia’s shoulders, pulling her in for a comforting embrace. The camera captures the tenderness of the moment, showcasing their deep bond. Sophia leans into Y/N, resting her head on her shoulder, visibly calming down. Y/N gently strokes her arm, providing a sense of safety and warmth.

[not y/n 'I hate physical contact' l/n cuddling w Sophia ON NATIONAL TV]

“... And these girls are always there to comfort me" Sophia says. "I don’t know what I’d do without them. They always know how to make me feel better.”

The girls smile softly, Y/N brushing a strand of hair behind Sophia’s ear. The camera captures the intimacy of the moment. SophY/N shippers were fed well that night.

“That’s what teammates are for, right?," Daniela says, as she rubs Sophia's shoulder ,"We lift each other up.” Sophia nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing in Y/N’s embrace.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the camera panning over each member before the inertviewer speaks again. “It’s clear you guys have a strong connection. How do you support each other during tough times?”

Sophia taps Y/N's hand. After a silent conversation with her eyes, Sophia raises her mic to Y/N's lips. She gently squeezes Sophia’s hand, before continuing. “We communicate. We talk about our feelings, even when it’s hard. And we make sure to be there for each other, no matter what. It’s all about teamwork.”

[my sophy/n heart- JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY]

The girls nods in agreement. Sophia's expression softening as she looks at Y/N with admiration. The camera captures the warmth between them, the way they lean into each other, creating a bubble of comfort amidst the emotional conversation. “And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. We’re a team, and I’m proud of us.”, Y/N finishes. The girls dramatically "awww", making the girl roll her eyes. It's rare of Y/N to show vulnerability and be soft, but the girls (and Eyekons) aren't complaining.

[CUT TO: The scene zooms out, the interviewer moving onto the next question. Sophia and Y/N still sitting close for the rest of the interview.]

[your honor, they're in love]

---

[CUT TO: The scene transitions to a bright, airy interview room with a modern aesthetic. Y/N is seated comfortably on a stylish chair, a playful smile on her face. The interviewer, off-camera, poses a question.]

“Y/N, I heard that you did martial arts as a kid. Wow! That goes into my next question, a small, playful one... Who do you think in Katseye you can win in a fight?”

Y/N leans back, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she thinks for a moment. She suddenly puts on a playful serious face, her tone monotone.

"Well firstly... I would never hit Yoonchae". The interviewer, audience, and the girls chuckles, and Y/N leans in, clearly enjoying the moment.

"No, seriously! I am completely against hitting little kids...," The camera captures Y/N’s playful smirk as she continues ,"... on the topic of not hitting little kids. I also would never hit the elderly, so Manon and Sophia are out of the pic-"

[oop you didn't have to clock them like that y/n]

The camera zooms out of Y/N’s face, capturing her infectious laughter as she's punched on her arm by Sophia. The Filipina blows a stray strand that came loose form her pony off of her face, as she glares at Y/N, who's too bust clutching her stomach in laughter.

[are we all sure Sophia didn't also do martial arts?]

[CUT TO: The scene fades out, leaving the audience laughing, Sophia's face still red and angry.]

---

[CUT TO: The scene opens with a softly lit room. The camera is set up for a Weverse live, with Sophia sitting on the bed, her hair slightly tousled and a bright smile on her face. The atmosphere is warm and inviting, with fairy lights twinkling in the background.]

“Ooooh, someone asked, "What's the Kats love language". Thats a good one...”, Sophia thinks for a second. "I know Lara is big on words of affirmation. She's all of our biggest hype girl. Dani likes physical contact. Manon too... Y/N..." Sophia glances toward the bedroom door, a playful glint in her eyes as she smiles mischievously.

"...speaking of which…,” She calls out playfully, "Y/N! Can you come here for a second?”

[CUT TO: The camera shifts to the door as Y/N walks in, looking slightly confused.]

[good lord how can she look good in a hoodie and sweats, BARK BARK WOOF WOO-]

The newcomer briefly waves at the camera and then turns to Sophia. “What’s up?”

Sophia grins, gesturing for Y/N to come closer. “Can you help me with something?...”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, suspicious with Sophia's singsong tone. “Oh? What do you need? Or are you just trying to get me to do your chores again?”

Sophia giggles, shaking her head. “No, no! I was thinking more along the lines of a massage. You know, to help me relax after a long day.”

Y/N crosses her arms, feigning seriousness. Sophia's not one to ask her to come on lives in general and now asking for a massage? Then again, who was she to be suspicious of. Y/N sighs and sits down next to Sophia.

Sophia lays her feet out and the other girl starts massaging the leader's sock-covered feet. The camera captures the relaxed atmosphere as Sophia leans back, enjoying the moment. Finally, Y/N breaks the silence with her usual snarky comment.

“You know, if I give you a massage, does that mean I get a gold star or something?”

Sophia rolls her eyes, a smile flitting across her glossed lips. She throws a pillow at Y/N (who avoids it). "...But seriously, it means a lot to me when you do things like this.”

[they're so cute I'm gonna combust]

Y/N smirks, seeing an opportunity to tease Sophia. “So, if I vacuum the floors or cook dinner, that’s like a love letter to you?” The leader simply scoffs and pushes the younger.

[CUT TO: The camera is moved by Sophia, who is a lot closer. She smirks and whispers so only Eyekons hear]

"... and Y/N's love language is acts of service."

"What are you whispering about over there?"

'Nothing!"

---

Took a break form writing a Megan fic. That one's gonna be LOOONG. anyways hope you enjoyed this!.

#katseye x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #katseye #sophia #touch #debut #im pretty #tonight i might #my way #sophia katseye #x reader #kpop x reader #katseye fluff #kpop fluff

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lovebugism · 8 months ago

Note

Hiiieeeeee may I maybe recommend a fic with Stevie and maybe his ditsy/clumsy gf?

And maybe she tries a new recipe and cooks/bakes something different and gives herself a nasty burn and maybe it’s the first time Steve hears her swear and he’s so concerned over her because she’s clearly hurt and crying but she’s more upset about messing up the dish instead of how badly the burn actually is?

hope u like it angel xoxo — steve patches you up after you burn yourself making breakfast for him (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of minor injuries, 1k)

French toast sizzles on a hot pan. You stand in front of the stove, in nothing but a stolen t-shirt and a modest pair of underwear, and watch it cook with your features pinched in a distant concentration. Your Stevie wanted breakfast — “’s the only thing I want in the whole world,” the boy whined dramatically into his pillow — so you were gonna make him breakfast or die trying.

Steve sits quiet at the kitchen table, sipping steaming coffee from a Count Chocula mug, and hissing every time it burns his tongue. He decides to flip through the Sunday newspaper, mostly ‘cause he feels the honeyed domesticity calls for it. He only finds real interest in the cartoon page.

“Alright. Put ‘em up,” Charlie Brown threatens in the first panel, dressed head to toe in cowboy gear. Snoopy’s in the second one, with both of his black ears sitting straight in the air.

Steve chuckles to himself, a sharp exhale through his nose, and opens his mouth to call you over. “Fuck!” he hears you squeak before he can. It makes him laugh for real this time. “Hey. Watch the language, babe,” the boy teases.

“Sorry…” he hears you murmur in response. With your back still facing him, obscuring any view of the hot stove, he figures you must’ve burnt the first batch of toast.

It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing, anyway. You’re the clumsiest person he’s ever met (more than Robin, which he didn’t think was even possible). You’re not much of a chef either, bustling around the kitchen with a floundering air of confidence.

“Such a naughty word from such a pretty girl,” Steve jokes in an attempt to make you laugh. He hears his sensitive girl sniffle to herself instead, like you’re crying — or about to. His crooked smile ebbs. “Hey… I was just kidding, babe. You can say whatever the hell you want— I don’t care.”

His chair scrapes the tile when he stands. His socked feet pad against the floor on his way to you. “I swear all the time,” Steve says and embraces you from behind. His scruffy chin bobs on your shoulder. “I mean, you’ve heard me— I basically make up new words.”

He scoffs a faint laugh before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You sniffle again. “I messed up,” you murmur, voice wet with unshed tears.

“What do you mean?”

“The french toast. I put too much egg in the mixture, and now everything’s all sticky— It’s gonna be so gross now.”

You ramble mindlessly and gesture with your hands. Steve catches a glimpse of a red and raging welt on the outside of your thumb. The sight of the fresh burn makes his chest twist.

“Holy shit, babe.”

You meet his concerned gape with a doe-eyed look. “What?”

“Your hand— Let me see.”

He takes your fingers in his gentle, softly calloused ones. You shrug off his palpable worry but let him examine your stinging skin nonetheless. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt,” you lie through your teeth. “I barely even felt it.”

Steve’s peers at you beneath his lashes, bushy brows raised until his forehead wrinkles. “It’s gotta hurt, babe,” he insists in a monotone.

“My bruised pride hurts more.”

He grins before he means to. “Come on, weirdo— let’s get a bandaid on you,” the boy chuckles and turns off the burning stove-eye. You gasp when he tugs you out of the kitchen with a gentle hand around your wrist.

“But breakfast!” you whine in protest.

“I’ll drive us to the diner after, alright? I promise,” Steve assures as he leads you down the hallway. “That way neither of us has to die to put some food on the table.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic.”

He shrugs and flips on the bathroom light. “Maybe a little.”

You sit on the edge of the bathroom counter, per Stevie’s instructions, while he fishes for the first aid kit in the cabinets. He fits just perfectly between your thighs, you notice, as he rubs ointment onto your finger with an impossibly gentle touch. You quickly forget about the raised welt on your thumb — too focused on the pretty boy who holds all his love in his hands.

“There you go. Good as new,” Steve smiles once he’s stuck a plaster flush to your skin. He doesn’t notice the small pout scrunching your pretty face until he’s closed the first aid kit. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’…” you murmur, gaze averted as you pick at the fraying hem of your oversized tee. “I just… I wanted to do something nice for you, but I messed it all up, and you ended up having to do something nice for me…”

Steve scoffs. “You do nice stuff for me all the time.”

Your frown deepens.

“You tidied up the house when I was working late yesterday,” he tells you. “And you did the dishes even though you hate doing the dishes—”

“Everyone hates doing the dishes,” you insist.

“Exactly!”

“Well, you said death would be easier than doing them, so I thought it’d make it easier on you by doing it while I was off…”

“Exactly,” Steve repeats, settling between your legs once more. He smooths a pair of wide palms over the outsides of your thighs and flashes you another pretty smile. “You make everything easier on me. Even when you don’t mean to.”

You peek at him beneath your lashes, gaze glimmering with something short of hope. “Really?” you wonder in a mousy voice.

“Yeah! All the time!” the boy scoffs without thinking.

He wraps a pair of golden arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a smothering hug. Your hands curl into his sweatshirt as you bury your face in his neck — inhaling the sweet scent of sleep and leftover cologne lingering there.

Steve noses at your hair, still a bit wild from your slumber. “Except for when you accidentally burn yourself and act like it’s not a big deal,” he teases with a smile curling at your temple.

Muffled against his neck, you grumble, “It wasn’t.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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simp-ly-writes · 29 days ago

Text

When All That's Left is Love

─────── · · How Could You Refuse? (pt.9)

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After everything you both had been through; the pain, the torment, the utter longing, you and Jayce can only find your love leftover in the post-war rubble and go on to find various ways to show each other that your love is truly enough.

─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective! jealous! possessive(?)! Jayce, fluff, emotional angst (happy tears*), Evren (OC), kissing, teasing, swearing, brief descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of death and war, reader is mentioned to have hair and is shorter than Jayce, not beta read. smut: unprotected pinv sex (be safe please!), oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, almost caught, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, hand kink?, dirty talk, aftercare.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 5,456 |

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: a gift from me to you~ (gosh i'm so in love 😫🫠)

─────── · ·

─ · · Evren had come by near the end of breakfast as he helped ensure there would be no leftovers. He offered a giddy smile before stuffing his face and licking the plate clean. You sighed, disappointed, I was really looking forward to those waffles later. You feel Jayce's stare on you, catching your sad look as you stare at Evren's plate longingly. "Want to get ready together?" You feel Jayce hot breath whisper into your ear, you turn your head over your shoulder and nod as Jayce pulls your chair out and you both head down the hall.

"Would you mind helping me to the market? I used up the last of the eggs," Ximena asked, grabbing Evren's arm. "Of course, gorgeous," is the last thing you hear Evren say to Xiema before the bathroom door closes.

"You really are okay with Evren flirting with your mom?" you question as Jayce shrugs his shoulders, "my mom has better taste than him." Your jaw drops, "Jayce!" you shout before cracking up and Jayce can't help but laugh as well.

─ · · You and Jayce proceeded to get ready in the bathroom... or well, at least you tried too, Jayce on the other hand seemingly couldn't allow you to focus on anything but keeping his touch on you; pulling your head in his direction for a kiss before wrapping his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder as he looked at you both through the mirror with a grin- kissing you on the cheek. "Jayce! I can't get ready if you're all over me like this."

Jayce sighs, peeling his head away yet his arms and chest still block you against the vanity. "Someone's desperate for attention," you mumble underneath your breath, bending down as Jayce groans, not knowing that you would pay for your words and actions later.

You look for your hair product in the cabinet but just as you feel his hips roll into your backside you stand up straight and continue your routine- refusing to even make eye contact with him in the mirror.

With a huff Jayce pulls off his shirt before walking over to the shower albeit it slowly- knowing that the moment you saw skin, your attention was drawn to his back muscles flexing as he reached over to adjust the temperature and the small chain that dangles around his neck, you raise your brow curious as to what it is.

Steam begins to fill the small space as he turns around, bare chest brushing up against your covered one to grab a towel. Your hand grasped his side, eyes connecting with your promise ring dangling from his neck- you blink away the memories of that moment before trailing your hand slowly around and down to his stomach as you bite your lip, looking up at him.

Jayce says nothing, simply unbuckling his belt but before you can remove your hand he grasps your wrist, pulling it back to rest on his abs in a silent demand before you hear the leather slipping through the belt loops and crashing against the floor. You feel a wave of emotions come over you as your cheeks warm, your eyes not knowing where to rest upon as Jayce stares down at you, his body taking up your frontal vision and your hand so close to his- you simply stare up at the ceiling trying to calm yourself with deep breaths, I have work I need to get done today, I have work to do, I have-

─────── · · ⭐️

You feel Jayce's lips against your exposed neck feeling as he smiles against your skin once hearing you moan, fuck, that you quickly try and cover with your other hand. "God you're so beautiful," Jayce murmurs- his hands reach up your shirt leaving you gasping as he gropes your chest and feels for a clasp. Your hand slips from your mouth, "Jayce" you whisper-shout his name slowly in warning your yet it comes out more like a plea.

"Mhmm?" He murmurs, lips finding your cheek trailing down to your chin and across to your lips. You feel his breath, hot and heavy as he speaks softly to you, "I know you worked so hard on your make-up and hair darling, I won't mess it up, promise." You feel as he pulls away, your eyes opening as he pats the counter, "sit."

You stare for a moment, thighs clenching together, you can feel your core start to throb in want as Jayce watches the gears turn in your head, "just want to make you feel good, sweetheart." You cover your face with your palms, shaking your head, trying to regain your rationale mind but all you can think about us how good his fingers would feel stretching you out, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing your clit, the feeling of his beard scratching the skin between your thighs- you groan before lifting yourself onto the counter, looking at Jayce with pleading eyes.

Jayce rubs his palms up and down your thighs, feeling as they tremor in wait, the material of your nightgown starts to bunch up at the top of your waist exposing your wet folds soaking through the fabric of your undergarments. You shiver feeling the ghost of his knuckle teasingly swipe up and down your folds, "this wet for me already?" you nod, staring down at his hands watching the veins that bulge across the back of them and how they run up his forearms, you bite your lip remembering all the nights you fantasized about those exact hands helping you to reach your release and how many times your own fingers failed to compare.

You wiggle against the countertop in need, ready to start begging and by the look in Jayce's darkening eyes, he expects you to beg for him. "please just touch me, please," you press yourself against his hand, rotating your hips as he pushes the heel of his palm against your clit, you groan once finally finding friction to soothe the ache within you.

Jayce pulls his hand as you hump air for a second ready to complain before feeling as Jayce pulls down your ruined panties, casting them aside with his belt. Two large fingers circle around your leaking hole, the first knuckles sneaking in to gather your wetness before carrying it up to clit- pinching it and getting you to whine. When Jayce beings to rub, your head soon feels too heavy for your body- your forehead falling against his shoulder, "feels so good, Jayce," you hum into his ear, he smiles at the praise, "missed my fingers-hm?"

"mhmm, so much, Jayce. Just didn't feel the same," Jayce's movements pause again and you are beyond frustrated, reaching down to move his hand but Jayce remains firm, looking at you in the eyes with a strong, no.

"Who touched you here? tell me," Jayce asks, taking his attention away from your clit and instead entering your hole, filling you slowly before stopping halfway seeing as you don't answer him, "who fucked this pussy?"

"Only you since then Jayce, promise, only you," you feel yourself drip down your thighs as you pray for another finger to further the already delicious stretch you feel. "So this is mine?" you nod your head frantically feeling that third finger prodding at your entrance, the stretch a pleasurable burn as you grip his forearm, "all yours" you moan out feeling as he fully pulls his fingers out before filling you quickly and roughly.

"Mine to finger?" he kisses you once, another thrust, "yes," you whisper against his lips.

"Mine to fuck?" his kiss lingers, teeth pulling at your lip, "yes," you moan out, feeling his other hand move to place pressure againat your clit in small circular motions. The steam of the room coats your mind in a foggy haze of pleasure.

"Mine to cum in?" you clench down on his fingers, hard. Jayce presses his head against your own, breaths ragged, you feel across his chest down to his abs as he continues to fuck you with his fingers feeling as his muscles tense with every breath he takes.

Sparks explode across your hot skin that quickly turn into flames as you wiggle your hips, chasing your impending release. "Did you dream of me, baby? Me filling you up? Stretching you out? Reaching parts inside of you that no one else could? Marking you with my-"

"Jayce!" you yell, his words inciting your orgasm to come crashing down as you moan and whine against him yet Jayce only quickens his pace, slamming his fingers in and out of your gushing hole, the entire scene obscene as you flush at the squelching sounds of your lingering orgasm.

Your thighs are shaking as the once pleasurable burn turns into painful sensitivity, you tap Jayce's back three times getting him to stop. You watch as he slowly pulls his fingers out of your dripping cunt and see the way that they gleam underneath the artificial lights.

"My messy girl," Jayce belittles you, licking your release off of his fingers slowly, enjoying the taste thoroughly before bending down and forcing your knees apart, "let me clean you up?" he asks, looking up at you with large and shining hazel eyes- pleading.

How could you refuse that look? Grabbing him by his curly brown locks you lead his face towards your sex, withering and learning back against the cool mirror once feeling his rough tongue take a long lick up your slick. "J-jayce~" you sob his name and feel his moan vibrate your clit, your ankles lock behind his back, pushing him further into you.

Jayces hands grip your thighs tightly, you know marks will appear later but how could you care when he was making you see literal stars as you blinked looking up into the light fixture, lost in pleasure. "I'm gonna cum... a-almost there," you look down meeting his eyes as his tongue enters your hole making sure to gather every last drop of your previous orgasm.

You open your mouth in a silent scream, gripping his hair as he groans, nose rocking against your clit as your muscles clench- your orgasm rocking through every vein in your body, tingling and coming to life as your breaths become short and staggered before hitching as Evren calls your name from the front door.

You freeze, trying to pull Jayce away yet he just shakes his head, continuing to lap up your cunt as you plead at him, "J-jayce I-ah," you whisper through moans trying to wiggle yourself away but only finding yourself sitting more on his face, his hands squeezing and gripping your ass in warning.

You breathe out a sigh in relief once feeling him pull away, not bothering to wipe his mouth as he pulls you in for a kiss- tasting your release on his lips. You push your hands at his chest, needing air as he kneads your muscles, "I have to go see him," you try and explain to Jayce, feeling as he rocks his covered bulge against your prepared entrance. "Yeah? you need to go see him?" Jayce counters while starting to pull your night gown and bra with it over your head.

"I-I thought you said you weren't going to mess up my look," you try and counter with pout and glare once seeing your reflection in his dark eyes. Jayce smiles softly, "you're glowing, my love." You shake your head with a sigh, "I just came twice Jayce, I'm covered in sweat-there's a difference," you try and explain yet Jayce only shakes his head, kissing you to effectively shut you up. You hear Evren yell your name again, the front door slamming closed as his footsteps continue inwards into the apartment.

"He'll leave soon," Jayce explains as you listen to him unzip his pants, feeling as he rubs his length across your slick before feeling the tip of his cock poke at your hole- threatening to enter. Jayce tilts your head to the side, brushing your hair away before kissing up your neck to behind your ear, biting down on your lobe and whispering inside, "say you don't want this and I'll stop so you can go say hi to your friend."

You sigh frustrated, Jayce knows what he's doing, knows that your need is speaking louder than your brain. Evren will leave... right? "I need you Jayce," you confirm feeling as your hole wraps around the head of his cock, sucking him in. Jayce curses underneath his breath, knuckles turning white as he grips the countertop. "You have to relax for me, sweetheart. A bit too tight," Jayce says, biting his lip listening to you whine and force yourself to relax.

Jayce sighs, pushing himself in inch by inch, the time apart and the prep from his fingers could only do so much to fit you around his girth as you hissed, nails clawing into his back as he rocked you both gently to start. A hairbrush of yours falls and clatters against the tiled floors. Jayce leans forwards- sinking deeper into you, pressing a kiss to your nose before leaning down and leaving wet hot kisses against your shoulder.

"Hows it feel? you doing okay?" a knuckle gently brushing up and down your spine as you shiver and wiggle your thighs around his waist, "feels... good, so good, Jayce. So deep- thank you, Jayce, thank you," you cry out in bliss feeling him rock into you again, your walls aching with need.

"Yeah? This what you needed-hm? Just cock in you to make you relax?" You lean forwards pressing a kiss to his arm- not trusting your words as only moans come out of your mouth in between gasps of air as he forces himself in you again and again... a knock at the bathroom door sounds. You freeze yet Jayce keeps fucking you, uncaring as he smirks and looks down at you, wondering when you'll tell him to stop.

You stare at him blankly, a harsh snap of his hips has you about to moan yet he places his lips quickly against your own to muffle the sound, "quiet" he hisses into your ear afterwards. You paw at his arms, mind half filled with desperation for him to fill you, the other side to wanting to pull away. You close your eyes, thankful for the shower still being on but praying for Evren to just walk away.

Jayce begins to rub at our clit, your hands fall off Jayce's arms as you arch your back, leaning against the counter. After hearing nothing for a little while you look up at Jayce, I'm close, you try and whisper to him before biting back another moan- feeling as your eyes well with tears.

Jayce removes his hand from your clit, grabbing your waist as he starts to fuck you harder, hips slamming into your own as Jayce chases his own release.

You can barley contain yourself as you cry out in pleasure, mind fully gone, only thoughts of your impending orgasm clouding over. Jayce watches as your eyes roll into the back of your head, the way your chest bounces with every thrust of his cock into your leaking core. You feel as his hand snakes its way up between your breasts before gently gripping the sides of your throat in warning.

Another knock sounds, this time louder, "Hey, you doing okay? I'm gonna head to the library, take it easy today alright?" Evren says, voice close to the door. Jayce pulls your neck towards him, your eyes looking into his own as he squeezes again in warning before slowly releasing his grip. You clear your throat yelling, "Okay Ev! I'll see you tomorrow!"

"See you then!" you hear him tap the door twice in goodbye before locking your front door again. You collapse against Jayce's chest, moaning loudly, "Did that turn you on, sweetheart? Having someone almost hear me fucking you... could have seen my fucking you? Making them know that I'm yours and you're only mine?"

"Fuck, Jayce! Yes," you wiggle your hips meeting his thrusts, "just want to be yours." Jayce kisses you harshly feeling your thighs lock around him as you near your peak. "Gonna let me cum inside you?"

"Yes, please Jayce," you cry out. "Want to feel me coating your insides? Making you mine?"

"Mhmm!" you shake in his arms that wrap around your back, holding you upright as you feel him twitch within you, you gasp feeling your own orgasm rake over your body as you shudder against his chest, tears dripping down your cheeks as you mumble incoherently once feeling him fill you up with jagged thrusts, "s-such a good girl, so perfect for me," he stutters into a growl feeling as you clench down harder at the sound, effectively milking him dry.

You both lean against one another's hot and sticky skin. Jayce presses a kiss to your forehead, brushing the hair away from your face as he checks you over quickly, your heart aches at how quickly he changes personalities before picking you up by the back of your thighs and carrying you into the shower, still connected. You hum once feeling the warm water coat your skin before feeling the cool tile against your back as Jayce steadies you, equally hissing while watching him pull out.

You feel your combined release drip from your hole and start to run down your thighs with the water. You gasp once feeling the rough pads of Jayce's fingers collect the mixture and stuff it back inside your sore opening as you grip his bicep and take deep breaths. "Can't waste it now," Jayce murmurs- you question if you can orgasm again from not being able to feel your legs... and then you suddenly remember all the papers you have to mark as post-orgasm clarity comes to the forefront of your thoughts. "May just need to fuck you again if you're still thinking about anything, relax, my love," Jayce, lovingly ridicules you, picking up your chin to press a gentle kiss to your puffy lips.

─────── · · ⭐️

You sigh- forcing your mind to numb as you watch Jayce lather and wash your skin before cleaning himself. You reach up and pull him forwards by his shoulders so that you can wash his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as he smiles contently, closing his eyes in pure bliss. You had never seen Jayce so utterly... relaxed. Your heart swells as you cares his jaw, running your thumb across his cheek, you didn't realize you said those words aloud before hearing Jayce's response, "only you could make me feel this and it is only you I would trust enough."

Your heart skips a beat, "I love you, Jayce."

"And I love you, Sweetheart, so incredibly much," you squeal once feeling his large hand hold the back of your head, pushing your lips together in a heated kiss. We're never getting out of here are we?

─────── · ·

─ · · Drying yourselves off you both helped each other to get dressed. Jayce's heart ached seeing that you had taken some of his clothes with you, "I found the smell comforting" you explain with a blush before throwing one of Jayce's shirts in his face. He quickly catches it before then and moves to press a kiss to the side of your head as you sort through what to wear for the day.

Sliding on your pants you fiddle around your drawers for a shirt, huffing frustratedly when you realize the shirt you wanted to wear was still drying. "How about that white one?" Jayce points while tucking in his shirt. You become distracted seeing his forearms on display as he reaches for his belt. Jayce tilts his head and looks at you, "You don't have to, sweetheart. Just thought it would go with your pants."

You grab the white shirt and blazer to go with it. Jayce places one of his cufflinks between his teeth, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he fiddles with the metal before moving to his other sleeve. He watches as you button up your shirt, confused as to why you still looked annoyed. "Can you turn around please?" you ask quietly, slipping your blazer on without even looking at him.

"Turn around? But we just... okay, are you doing alright, darling?" Jayce asks, you stare as he bends over and reaches for his own jacket on your bed watching all the material of his clothes perfectly contour his body. Jayce listens to you huff, "Stop it," you demand.

Jayce turns back around to find you choosing a pair of shoes before moving to sit in an armchair within the corner of your room, practically shaking. "Stop what?" he asks softly- not wanting to anger you further as he kneeling before you, placing your ankle on his knee before sliding your shoes onto your feet and lacing you in. He presses a kiss to your knee before picking up your other foot and doing the same.

You open and close your mouth annoyed by how good he looks while simply getting himself ready. The way he moves and flexes as if knowing you're watching. Jayce picks up your hands in between his own, rubbing the backs of them with his thumbs. "We can't get ready together again," you say before standing and picking up your jewellery from your nigh stand, hands shaking as you try and find the small clasp of your necklace behind your head before feeling Jayce's larger hands take the chain from your hands and clasp it together with ease before gently pulling your hair back into place.

"Why?" Jayce asks, hands rubbing up and down your sides as you both stand there silently and feel the suns warm kiss against your faces coming in between the blinds. "You're really distracting," you mumble underneath your breath before pulling away from his touch and heading outside the room. You listen as Jayce bursts out laughing- the sound of it echoing through the apartment before he takes a few large strides to meet back up with you at the front door.

─────── · ·

─ · · You take Jayce on a tour of the university campus, walking him around the greenhouse, pointing and explaining the various local fauna to him (yet also getting annoyed once noticing he was too busy staring at you instead of the flowers). "Jayce look! You can look at me whenever you want but not these," you try and explain. Jayce sighs looking at the flowers more closely, imagining how good they would look in your hair... fuck, I'm staring again, he thinks to himself.

You both are go un-noticing to the way a few of your students point and cover their mouths gasping and gossiping at the sight of your both together.

─ · · Next you take him into the library where you showed off your recently published studies with Evren. Jayce was so happy for you he nearly yelled while picking you up for a hug and giving you a little spin. His smile was intoxicating as he took the material off the shelf and started flipping through it.

You rested your head on his arm looking between his reaction and the pages as he pointed to the various diagrams you drew and the articles you collaborated on with utmost interest before gently placing it back on the shelf, squeezing your hand, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart." You pulled him in for another hug, "thank you... it really means a lot."

"I'll say it a thousand more times since you deserve nothing but praise," you looked up, eyebrow raised as Jayce winked before pulling away, dragging your hand with him and back into the library's lobby where a small crowd had formed.

"Head Councillor! What brings you to the campus?" "Is it true that you slept with Councillor Medarda?" "When's the engagement?" "Can you let us know Piltovers plans for new trade?" "Do you still consider yourself, 'the man of progress'?" "Miss!" a hand reaches out to shake your own yet you quickly lace your fingers together and offer an anxious smile, taking a step slightly behind Jayce becoming worried as the crowd of journalists only seems to grow once discovering you.

Jayce looks down at you, trying to hold a smile while the lights flash in your face and various students begin yelling and complaining about the growing noise. Jayce shakes a few hands and waves away the questions with apparent ease yet you can see the way he grits his teeth, jaw tense as he constantly rings his fingers through his hair and grips your waist a bit too tightly, trying to lead you through the crowd and back to his hotel room so you both can get some work done today.

"Thank you all for your interest, but me and my partner here must get going-" Jayce begins to say, almost making it to the doors yet the question are a waterfall. "So you both are back together then?" "Why and when did the split happen?" "From partner to assistant, did you sleep your way to the top of society?" "Can we expect a wedding in the future?" "What about kids?" "Who is the heir to the House of Talis?" "Do you consider yourself distracted from your role?"

You start to feel sick, mind flashing back to all those sponsorship events you both used to attend. The seemingly never-ending curious eyes and hands- someone grabbed your elbow tugging you away from Jayce. You scream, threatening to fall back as a sea of reporters hold you upright... there are way to many hands touching me right now, your eyes go wide with panic as you begin to hyperventilate.

Fuck, where's Jayce? where is-, you blink through the masses trying to find Jayce, Evren, anyone you recognize before feeling your arm be tugged- firmly into a warm chest. Jayce shoves an on-coming reporter, taking deep breaths through his nose, eyes pointed and threatening as he opens the door for you and you both escape outside.

─ · · "Are you alright?" Jayce asks once you both are a distance away, "I'm sorry that happened. I had not considered that was the first time we had been publicly seen together since..." Jayce's voice trails off, his hand cupping the back of your head- eyes wide and glistening as he studies every micro-expression that crosses your features.

"I'm okay... just a bit... shaken-up after it all is all," you try and explain, reaching out to hold Jayce's hand hearing as he lets out a sigh of relief. "When you come back to Piltover, I'll make sure this doesn't happen."

"When I come to Piltover?" You raise a brow while holding a frown doing your best to hide the playful tease behind your eyes to appear pissed. Jayce opens and closes his mouth, removing the hand from your head to instead scratch at his neck, "I-uh, well, I was assuming, ass move of mine that-ah, you were coming back with me?"

You stare at him, tapping your foot with your arms crossed watching as he sweats, eyes frantic in panic before walking past him and in the direction of the hotel without another word with a smile. "Sweetheart(name)- please, I-I can stay here or visit, whatever works for you-" Jayce runs after you, hands extending yet pulling away quickly as he goes to touch you- unsure of how to not set you off further.

─────── · ·

─ · · When you get to the hotel doors, a staff member quickly ushers you both inside as you stand in the elevator, "what floor?" you ask in a cold tone as Jayce reaches over and hits number ten. You wait until the doors close before pulling Jayce by the lapels of his jacket and pressing a kiss close to his mouth before dropping your hold quickly and facing forwards.

Jayce stands there still leaning, shocked etched into every muscle as he blinks twice. "Where did that come from?" he whispers before standing up straight once hearing the doors chime open. You smile up at him innocently, adjusting the bag on your shoulder with nonchalance- waiting for him to unlock the door.

You watch as he fumbles for the key in his suit jacket before extending his arm through the doorway, allowing you to enter first before closing the door behind you both and taking your jacket to hang up in the entry way. You look around his organized room, picking up the random papers on his desk before falling onto his made bed and spreading out your arms with a sigh.

Jayce stands at the foot of the bed looking down at you in concern, "Jayce my love," you call out to him while observing his hopeful eyes. "Of course I'm coming back with you... I'd follow after you endlessly," you admit before feeling a dip in the bed as Jayce burrows his face into your stomach, you feel as he shakes his head, "can't believe you, toying with my poor heart," you hear him murmur.

"Would it also count as toying if I said I wanted my ring back?" you feel Jayce frees before pushing himself up and hovering above you. "Really?" he whispers, you can hear a younger Jayce in those words, see it in his bright eyes, feel it in the duvet as he rushes to unbutton his shirt and fish the chain out and over his head.

You sit up in the bed, leaning against the head board and presenting your hand not being able to contain the smile that spreads across your cheeks mirroring Jayce's grin as he slowly slides the band across your finger before leaning down to press a kiss against it.

You squeeze your hands together, closing your eyes to enjoy the moment as you hear laugh to himself in disbelief before hearing him choke into a sniffle. Your eyes flash open looking to see whats wrong watching as Jayce silently cries with a smile, gently shaking his head while staring at you with large hazel eyes that seemingly appear to be made out of gold from the sunlight flooding into the room. "Jayce," you softly call him name, feeling as your own eyes start to burn.

Jayce's eyes closes his eyes once hearing you say his name so sweetly, so full of love that his heart has his head falling to the bed as he grips your knees- posing as if to worship you. "Jayce?" you call out again, combing your fingers through his hair as he continues to quietly cry, "thank you," he says before picking up his head and trying to blink through the tears. You wipe your own away, reaching up to help him wipe them away as he does the same with choked chuckle.

"For what, darling?" you pose back.

"For loving me," Jayce moves his head to kiss your palm, taking a deep breath before continuing, "For allowing me back into your arms, for dealing with every ribbon and string that comes attached with me. For accepting me as enough even when I couldn't see it- can't see it-" You leap forwards and into Jayce's arms, sobbing into his shoulder and pressing a light kiss to his neck.

"Forever and always, Jayce. Until the end and whatever comes after that for us," you promise with a squeeze of your arms and another press of your lips to his skin feeling as Jayce nods, not being able to find the right words for the first time in his life in order to convey the utter relief he feels in this moment, feeling you in his arms, hearing your love in his ears, knowing that you both had finally gotten over the mountain and through every valley to come to this.

You both find yourself crying harder once feeling a cool breeze enter the room- bursting from a loose window and caressing your skin in a gentle embrace. Hello Viktor, you think to yourself, opening up your hand from Jayce's back, Thank you for returning him to me, you feel the cool air seep between your fingers before leaving like it never came.

"What do you think Viktor would think?" Jayce mumbles, playing with the seams on your shirt, you hum, starting at yourself through the mirror above the hotel desk. "I think he'd be happy for us," you respond, placing your hand back on Jayce's back, rubbing large circles with your palm feeling as he lets out a long breath, Thank you, Viktor, for allow me to see this, Jayce thinks to himself, Thank you.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: right in the feels am I right? AHHH 😭😭😭

─ · · JAYCE TALIS TAGLIST: @sseleniaa @sunshiines-stuff @kiromiix @todorokishoe24 @w2momo @m-arj-1 @reid490 @kaminocasey @chickenlvr123 @peachhiz

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

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justporo · 8 months ago

Text

Instead of Roses

It's your birthday! And oh, your vampire knows how to treat you so well - in every kind of way.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Well, technically my birthday is already over by half an hour - but we'll say it counts. I wanted to write a *small* self-indulgent thing for myself as much as you as a treat. Don't we all know how these things go in the end around here... Have tooth-rotting fluff that turns into smut! Enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal sex, creampie, aftercare Wordcount: 3,1k

~~~

You woke from Astarion softly kissing your cheek. His lips on your face feeling like a feather caressing it. He whispered against your skin in between kisses, making his way down to your throat. You felt his cool breath brush over your skin, leaving goosebumps on the nape of your neck.

Being softly dragged from your dreams you needed a few moments until you could make out what sweet nothings your vampire kept murmuring against your pulse point before he pressed his lips to the delicate skin there again.

“Good morning, darling,” Astarion mumbled again when you slowly opened your eyes and began stretching with him leaning over you, loosely caging you with his arm he was propped up on. “Happy birthday, my sweet,” he continued, his words so low they were merely more than a rumble in his throat.

“Hm, is it?” you murmured back sleepily and turned your head a little so you could look at your lover. Astarion was smiling ever so softly at you, curls still messy from sleep but his crimson eyes glimmering happily at you. He was shirtless - but had pants on for some reason - while you remained pleasantly naked beneath the covers.

You rolled your neck and stretched your limbs - like a cat would after getting up from a good rest. Astarion eyed you lovingly, smile growing into his signature smirk. He was definitely up to something - but when wasn’t he?

“I know you said you didn’t know when your actual birthday is,” he explained, cocking his head to his side observing you as you raised your eyebrows at him and couldn’t resist a deep yawn that rolled over you - and another big stretch. “So I thought: wouldn’t today be just perfect?” Astarion concluded and kissed you fully on the lips before nuzzling his nose behind one of your pointy ears, tickling you.

You shivered and chuckled and tried to push him off. But this only resulted in the pale elf wrapping his naked arms around you and tickling you more with the tip of his nose at the nape of your neck.

Wiggling in his arms you tried to escape him but it was no use.

Rolling around your enormous bed while the vampire was teasing you - his hands joining in to tickle you at your waist - it threatened to turn into full blown melee combat. Even with your hand in his face and fingers spread to push him off, Astarion only laughed and doubled down on his attacks by trying to nibble on your fingers - damned vampire.

But as you looked around for a weapon other than a pillow that, shoved in a vampire’s face, emitted a loud hiss from the predator but nothing more, your eyes wandered over something on your nightstand. And suddenly you smelled it too!

Stopping your efforts to escape Astarion - and he apparently deemed you sufficiently teased by tickling - you saw that a nice plate of scrambled eggs with veggies, a bowl of fresh strawberries and a nice steaming cup of tea was placed there. Along with a single white blossom that you recognised from your tiny garden, placed in a random chalice that usually was meant for wine.

“You made me breakfast?” you asked, feeling how warmth filled your chest at the image of a half-naked Astarion standing in the kitchen of your small townhouse to prepare food for you. You moved around a little until you were laying on your side. Astarion softly wrapped his arms around you and scooched up to you until he was spooning you. He pressed another kiss to the crown of your head.

“Of course, isn’t that what spouses do for their partner’s birthdays?”

Your heart was about ready to melt.

You craned your neck to give your vampire a kiss.

The eggs were a bit burned you had noticed. But it all smelled delicious and he’d prepared all your favourite things for you. He was really trying so hard - and succeeding even harder.

“You’re the sweetest, Astarion!” You beamed at him.

The vampire looked very pleased with himself.

“I know. Aren’t I just the best” - you hummed in agreement - “handsomest” - another hum but with lips curling into a teasing pout - “most forthcoming” - you huffed lightly - “and smar-”

Grabbing a nearby pillow you smacked him in the face with it. “And so humble too,” you replied sickeningly sweet as Astarion hissed at you once more and shoved the pillow out of his face - his hair even a little worse for wear than before.

You giggled while the vampire acted as if he was brooding - the corners of his lips dragging up betraying him though.

“Insolent little mi-”

But once more you interrupted him by straining to turn around to grab his face and kiss him. With your mouth moving against his you tried to convey how much your chest was swelling with love for him at this lovely gesture. How much you adored him.

And just to be sure: “You’re the best, Astarion,” you whispered against his lips while you felt the vampire’s hands start to roam under the covers while he hummed happily - not only soothed but pleased.

His hands kept wandering as the kiss deepened and slowed. And you gasped lightly into his mouth, as you sensed what he was about to do.

“I have more in stock for you, my sweet,” the vampire murmured against your lips when he broke the kiss as you felt his fingers purposefully slide down your naked form beneath the covers before quickly diving between your legs. You turned your head away once more, closing your eyes and felt how Astarion moved his head to lightly bite down on one of your pointy ears.

“So much more.”

His voice was almost a growl directly in it. You were still on your side, Astarion wrapped around you. He pressed his lips to this spot directly below your ear and made you shudder.

“Oh?” you almost moaned as the vampire’s long fingers stroked along your core, already getting wet from that and his sinful promise.

“Did you get me roses too?” you tried to tease him. But the way his index began circling your clit was making it hard to keep even an edge of sass towards the vampire in your voice.

Involuntarily, you bucked your hips with a gasp when his fingers stroked along the sensitive bud between your legs more forcefully. You rubbed your ass against his crotch, snuggled up behind you. Even through the covers and his pants you felt that he was just as hard for you as you were wet for him.

“No roses, my heart,” Astarion replied, lips directly at your ear again.

“I thought I’d give you something even more pleasant instead,” he whispered and in time with his words let two of his fingers enter you, taking you by surprise.

A moan was ripped from your lips. You threw your head back and arched your spine.

“How thoughtful of you,” you replied breathlessly as you felt your lover’s fingers wandering to your clit again, covering it in your own slick. Astarion just laughed haughtily, knowing exactly the effect he had on you.

The heat pooling between your legs as you absent-mindedly pressed your thighs together for even more friction was quickly becoming like lava. And Astarion didn’t give you much of a break. His other hand was working its way to your boobs now. It began to squeeze them, the vampire’s long fingers spread out, squishing them together as more lewd sounds spilled from your lips.

“Fuck,” you cursed when at the same time his fingers entered your cunt again and with his other hand he rolled your hardened nipple between his thumb and index.

“Who, love?” Astarion teased. “Me?” Another finger entered you. “You?” His other fingers pinched the hardened peak of your breasts. The groan caught in your throat.

“Both, you bastard,” you pressed out followed by a desperate moan as the vampire worked your body like a musician did his beloved instrument. Caressing and teasing simultaneously, lovingly but with force plucking and stroking to elicit the sweetest notes from you.

Gods, you needed more. You tried to open your legs to give your lover better access to work his magic but felt the bed sheets restrict you. With a frustrated groan you kicked them away, aided by Astarion momentarily letting go of your breasts. But once you were freed of all fabric his hand was quickly back where it had left off, kneading your tits as they felt heavy with lust.

You opened your legs wide for Astarion with a dreamy sigh as he pressed himself against you from behind harder now, rubbing his hardened length against your ass. With a grunt he bucked his hips into you as he rewarded your eagerness by stroking your clit with the pad of his thumb now.

He was doing this for you, you knew. But as his grip on you became stronger, a little more desperate and you felt his hard dick press against you, you knew this was as thrilling for him as it was for you. And that made the moans coming from you almost turn into growls while you arched your back harder, desperate to give you both some more friction to work with.

To be desired and loved by a man like him-

Just knowing this made you almost unravel fully beneath his deft fingers.

Astarion had buried his face at your neck, his lush curls softly tickling you and sending electric shivers through you.

For a while the room was filled with nothing but breathless, needy sounds from each of you.

“Astarion,” you moaned as you were practically grinding against his hand, trying to get more of this delicious sensation. Your vampire merely groaned in response - barely taking in how desperately his name was rolling off your tongue.

Your lover’s hands were all busy with offering you all the pleasure he thought you deserved. And seemingly his mind was all filled with you as well as his face was buried in your hair, his gasps and moans brushing over you. You felt his hardened length twitch in need even through his clothes.

“Astarion,” you exclaimed again, even more desperation in your voice now, feeling as if you might perish on the spot when his fingertips hit just that spot as they dragged over your clit again.

“What is it, my love?” he replied, voice almost as desperate as yours.

“Me-,” you gasped and bit your lip hard as the way your nipple was teased sent another jolt through your entire body. The vampire just made a quizzical sound in response.

“Godsdammit,” you pressed out as he gave you not a moment of peace with how his hands worked your body. You could barely form half a thought.

“Fuck me, Astarion,” you almost shouted in frustration, your hands helplessly curling in the sheets. The tension inside you became almost unbearable.

But thankfully your partner finally moved to fulfil your request.

Astarion only shortly moved away from you to wiggle out of his pants while cursing profusely. Just by the way the bed was swaying under his struggles showed you how desperate he too must have been to answer your plea.

Quickly, you let your own hands take the place of your lovers’ so as to not lose any steam: squeezing your own tits with a moan. And with the other feeling how obscenely wet he’d gotten you. You were a heated, desperate mess already - and you weren’t nearly done.

Soon after, you felt Astarion roll around again, his arms wrapping around you once more, his hands covering yours, lacing with them. His dick was hard as granite as he moved to let it slide along your hot, wet folds.

For a few delicious long moments your lover was rolling his hips into you, making his twitching length slide along your slit again and again - precum mixing with your wetness - while his and your hands together played around with you.

Your pleasure became his and vice versa, as if there were no bounds between his body and yours.

The sounds you made rose in pitch and lewdness as you revelled in the sensation and how wonderfully debaucherous it felt to be touched and caressed like that by the love of your life. And yet you didn’t even have him where you wanted him.

“Gods,” Astarion breathed as he took you in. How you writhed in his embrace: so needy and yet giving him so much. His movements almost halted, to bewitched by you. So you reminded him of what exactly you wanted.

“Fuck me, Astarion,” you pleaded with him again, grinding against his cock and his hand now to get him moving again. “Fuck me hard.”

Astarion’s breath caught in his throat at your harsh and enticing demand.

“Fuck me until I see stars,” you kept begging, your words like the beckoning song of a siren in the vampire’s ears.

Oh how sweet you sounded as you requested such frivolity, tempting him.

And Astarion wasn’t one to resist temptation. Not if it was so much more rewarding to give in. Not if it was you.

Suddenly he could barely move fast enough to comply, even with his roguish quickness and dexterous hands.

His fingers that had been teasing your tits together with yours grabbed your already lifted leg to give him easier access to your core. And between your legs your hands quickly worked together to lead the head of his impatiently jerking cock to your entrance. But not before you hadn’t let your hand stroke along his erect length, earning a helpless grunt that almost became a whimper from Astarion as your palm dragged along his cock and then his balls.

“Fuck,” he swore.

And somehow you found it in you to reply even as the head of his cock was sinking into you. “Who?” you teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You or me?”

But the vampire had the upper hand now as he bucked his hips to sink into you to the hilt with a single hard thrust. “You,” he growled back as you yelped in surprise. “In every sense possible.”

You tried to grip for something - for balance or to help you cope with the sudden sensation of how full you were, you didn’t even know. But Astarion didn’t let your hand, still joined with his between your legs, escape. So just the other curled in the sheets until your knuckles showed white.

Still trying to catch your breath you already felt how he almost fully withdrew from you. You mirrored him by slowly breathing out

But Astarion caught you off guard again, thrusting into you again, forcefully. His hand wrapped around your leg spread you further for him as he did it again. Slowly but vigorously rutting into you in a ragged rhythm that left you near breathless.

“Astarion,” you managed to utter between two thrusts. You were barely able to cope with how hard he fucked you now but still the way his name fell from your lips coaxed him on. Meanwhile you nearly lost your mind by how well you fulfilled your wish.

His thrusts became faster and harder still as he lifted you almost off the bed in his eager need to feel you. Feel you as fully and entirely as he could.

The hand between your legs, still entwined with yours, made your fingers circle around your clit together again as you had forgotten about it; too lost in how roughly he fucked you.

With every single thrust he hit so deep he was already making good on making you see stars and you knew your release would shatter you completely - not just stars then but a whole universe.

Nearing the edge and with the vampire plunging into you forcefully and fast now, you gave up on trying to keep your balance. But your vampire kept you close and steady, rearranging his other arm not spreading your legs for him so you were snuggly with your back against his chest.

And so he could keep moaning into your ear while the sounds you made became more and more desperate whimpers: almost unable to keep up and also still begging for more. There was nothing left to form words anymore. Just him inside you and at the same time all around you as you felt the last of your threads came undone.

Your joint fingers between your legs mirrored his strong, fast pace and then-

You came with a scream and your voice breaking as Astarion kept fucking you through your orgasm. Floating somewhere far above your body, shuddering helplessly as the pinnacle of lust shook through you, you felt how Astarion came as well, dick twitching and spilling inside of you while he moaned your name over and over again like a credo. And even then he kept thrusting again, twice, thrice more in slow and hard movements, drawing out your orgasm for you and you drifted up even further.

Until you toppled over together in a shuddering, breathless mess, too exhausted to speak while you slowly returned to your earthly body.

Astarion carefully helped you lower your shivering leg and his arms held you carefully as you were almost laying on your stomach, him above you.

Still breathless and void of speech, he pressed a kiss to your cheek as you had your face buried in the pillows you were laying on.

Your vampire withdrew from you and began whispering soft loving words to you while his hands began rubbing your body.

When you finally had the breath and the mind for it you sluggishly mumbled something into the pillows.

“What’s that, my sweet?” Astarion asked who even with his vampiric senses couldn’t make out your words.

You turned your head slightly. “I said I love you, Astarion,” you repeated.

“I love you too, darling.”

“And then I said that I fear the eggs are cold now,” you repeated truthfully and yawned as a wave of blissful exhaustion from the earth shattering sex you just had washed over you.

From your lowered position you saw how your vampire stared quizzically at you. Then he burst into laughter. He slowly climbed off you and off the bed.

“Well, you insisted I’d fuck you first, so whose fault is that, my sweet, hm?”

Laughing more, he dodged the pillow that came flying for his head. Then he grabbed his pants and pulled them on.

“But just because it’s your birthday,” Astarion said with a pointed look, a dramatic sigh and a smirk on his lips “I’m making you fresh ones.”

And then with a wink he was off.

You smiled broadly - so hard your face hurt - and stayed there for a moment longer, reminiscing about how much you loved this stupid idiot.

Then you jumped off the bed, grabbed something to throw over your naked body and ran after Astarion to keep him company while he would inevitably burn another round of eggs for you.

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion bg3 #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x mc

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