#damn thought it was some like implied or cold shoulder shit but no he screaming at him

[cryptidwizard]

fuck yall really werent kidding when you were saying notshiro was a dick to lance in season 5

[mortytheestallion]

tasting glass

Part 2   Part 3

Rating: 18+ (No minors); explicit 

Wordcount: 1.6k

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, angst, implied age gap, unprotected sex, daddy kink

A/N: Hello I’m back from the dead, I know I’ve been lacking on both fandoms but my hyperfixations have died. In honor of season 5 here’s a new little mini-series I’m challenging myself to this summer! This takes place in between episodes 2 and 3!

The summer heat was humid and sticky as Rick finished his latest project. The sweltering seemed to permeate the garage just the same with the door opened or closed, and with Beth and Jerry’s latest fight reaching its peak, he decided hiding away was his best bet. 

Rick and the heat did not get along well, something that translated to the rest of the family, it felt as though he was fending off Summer and Morty with a stick. Their boredom was not his problem though, he had much better things to do. The thought of slipping away had plagued his mind for the last few hours, but the fever of the summer seemed to make his mind feel like syrup. 

“What I wouldn’t fucking give for a pool right now?” Rick murmured to himself, his brow furrowing at the reminder of his own sticky misery. The sky bathed the house in a silky red with the sun slipping down under the horizon. He took another sip from his flask, turning to lean on the workbench. 

He heaved a deep sigh as his phone caught the corner of his eye, you were ignoring him, and in true Rick fashion he had taken that in stride. His eyes narrowed unconsciously as he thought about it, his empty hand tightening into a fist. He didn’t fucking need you.

 He didn’t need anybody.

Beth’s shrill voice cut through the air followed by some thuds and an “Ow!” from Jerry. That earned an eye roll from Rick and while he wouldn’t mind going in there and tearing them a new one, it was too much work. Morty was breathing down his neck about letting them be, that they were happy. He had scoffed when Morty said that, it was bullshit and he wouldn’t be surprised if someone wanted another divorce in the next 6 months. 

Nonetheless, he was stuck in this stuffy house with his family’s bullshit to avoid your bullshit and he was starting to feel suffocated. Why did he give a shit if you were mad, fuck if you wanted to play that game so would he. Maybe it was the liquor he had just downed but it really didn't take much to get Rick riled up. And you knew that. 

He could feel the anger blooming in his chest, he wasn’t some fucking teenager in a petty fight with some dumb, little girlfriend. Suddenly he was hot with anger and before he knew it, a portal was in the center of the floor and he was walking through. Damned be his new fibermesh epidermis defense, and fuck his family, always asking him for shit. 

One foot through he stopped and thought of you briefly softening, he had been pretty rough on you lately. You called, he declined. You showed up, he went out the nearest portal. He had really only been around lately to take care of his own needs.

A particularly loud curse from inside the house brought him right back to his original train of thought, he was the smartest man in the universe, he didn’t need to take crap from you. You should be thanking him for his presence in your life. 

“You have some fucking nerve.” 

You shrieked as Rick pulled back the shower curtain. A cold shower was one of the better ways to fend off the heat with the air conditioner broken, especially since Rick had moaned, groaned, and wormed his way out of fixing it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed as he climbed in fully clothed, his brow in a prominent V-shape, lids half mast. It would have been comical in any other situation, his lanky body struggling to fit in your small shower, an almost bored expression on his face as the water drenched his clothes. 

“Me?” Rick scoffed, and narrowed his eyes at you. He began to lose his composure a bit, having your wet naked body in front of him. 

“Yes, you. You can’t just barge in here unannounced anymore Rick. I’m not some toy you can pick up when you’re bored and throw it away when you’re not.”

He feigned a hurt look, shrugged the now soaked coat from his shoulders. “I have enough toys, sweetheart, if you were one you’d know.”

That earned a huff from you, it had been a long day and the last thing you needed was Rick’s bullshit. Turning back to face the water, you rinsed the rest of the soap off of you, jumping slightly as his arms snaked their way around your waist. 

“C’mon,” he murmured, pressing kisses to your shoulder, you could feel the hard press of cold denim against your ass as he ground into you, “you know you can’t refuse my huge dynamite penis.” 

That earned a snort from you, the hard shell of anger cracking slightly. “You’re not off that easy, Rick. You’ve been a huge asshole lately, even more than usual.” 

His hands came up to massage your breasts, the feeling amplified by the cold water. You let out a low moan as he latched his mouth to the sweet spot on your neck while one hand tweaked your nipple, and the other snuck its way down to stroke your fluttering core. 

“S-shit baby you can’t still —is this all for me?” You could feel his wolfish grin against the back of your neck, and in return you arched your back more to grind against his erection. His long fingers trace through your folds as he removes his other hand to undo his belt, you feel the tight heat in your lower belly as you gush around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” Rick murmurs, stopping his motions momentarily to land a hard smack on your ass. You bite back a whine, wanting to maintain some semblance of composure, despite him being knuckle-deep in you. His fingers suddenly press against something deep and spongy within you, your knees buckle as you lurch forward, the unexpected waves of pleasure shivers down your body. Rick lets out another curse, his arm darting out to grip your waist, surely you would’ve fallen face-first into the wall had he not been holding you up.

He inhales sharply as you clench around his fingers, whispering good girl into your neck as you ride it out. He eases out of you, your juices dripping down your thighs, the feeling coupled with the uncomfortable chill of the water makes you shudder. 

“You’re a dirty little slut,” you tense again as he aligns himself to your entrance, still a little sensitive from your release, “beg me baby, I-I want to hear you.”

You mewl as he pushes into you, the stretch rides the line of pleasure and pain, Rick barely gives you enough time to get used to it before he bucks his hips and grips your jaw as a warning, “Beg.”

“Please, Rick, I want �� I want you to fuck me,” your voice comes out whiny making you wince a bit, but it seems to please Rick as he sets a deep pace, biting into your neck hard enough it's sure to leave a mark.

You can’t help but arch your back even further, this seems to please him as he releases his bite on your neck, “Someone’s eager, y-you can’t seem to get enough of my dick can you?” You moan in response, snaking a hand down to rub the tender bundle of nerves. 

You clench at the contact, leading Rick to fasten his pace, his hand moving to tighten around your neck. 

“You’re my — you’re daddy’s good girl aren’t you? Can’t get enough of m-my monster cock, you wanna come don’t you? Don’t fucking dare, not until I say so.”

All you can manage is incoherent moans with the occasional Rick! thrown in, you’re too cockdumb to be embarrassed or angry anymore. Rick has his way of getting out of trouble, especially with you. 

His brutal pace coupled with your own fingers becomes too much for you as you near your second orgasm, Rick seemed to egg you on as his own fingers replaced yours, you could feel your stomach tightening as your release began to stir in the peak of your stomach. 

“Come on my dick, baby, let the neighbors hear you scream my name.”

The pleasure washes over you in waves, your pussy clenching hard around his dick, he thrusts with wild abandon chasing his own release. You can feel him rut against your sensitive walls, riding your post-orgasmic haze. He spills inside you a few moments later letting out a string of expletives in true Rick fashion. You feel yourself stir again slightly as you feel him fill you up, but Rick extracts himself from you gracelessly. 

Coming back to your senses you rinse the mixture of juices off your legs, much to Rick’s distaste, and turn off the water. You shiver from being drenched for so long, side-eyeing Rick as he avoids your gaze. 

“You’re dripping on my floor,” you murmur, he stands there uncomfortably, it's not lost on you that his portal gun has returned to his hand.

“Well, I-I should go.”

“Typical.”

Rick can feel the anger simmer low in his belly at your dig, “What do you mean typical?”

“Well let’s see Rick, you show up angry and unannounced, seduce me in my show—” “I didn’t seduce you! And —and frankly, I resent the accusation!” “And now you’re leaving with no explanation. This isn’t sustainable long term, Rick.”

“And what makes you think I want to be here long term,” He regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, a hurt look flashes across your face before it's replaced with anger. 

“Come on, baby, I-I didn’t mean it.” 

He reaches out for you and you jerk backwards, “Your family may have taken you back, but I’m not this time Rick.” 

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “Just go, it’s what you’re best at.”

Rage blinds him as he shoots a portal to the floor, “Don’t — I’m not coming back this time.”

“I know you're not.” And with that he’s gone.

[kurosukii]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

summary: there’s no one you hate more on this earth than your school’s cocky volleyball captain, and being paired with him for a class project just honestly takes the cake. 

genre: college au, enemies to enemies fucking au.

warnings: 18+. hate sex (oiks is a meanie here but so are you, kinda), slight size kink, against the wall sex, facetiming (noncon to dubcon), exhibitionism (noncon to dubcon), voyeurism (noncon to dubcon), dacryphilia, ass play, multiple orgasms (oiks has mad stamina), degradation, slight praise, face-fucking, oral (m receiving), tit-fucking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, spanking, dirty talk, humiliation, dumbification, spitting, cumplay, creampie, hair pulling, pet names (bunny), implied seijoh four x reader

word count: 6.9k

author’s note: not much to say about this other than i’m a SEIJOH FOUR WHORE!!!! (let me know if i missed any warnings) (MINORS DNI)

[2:11 PM]

you honestly think the world hates you.

you tried your hardest to stifle your groan and not slam your head on the desk when the professor called out your name with your self-proclaimed “enemy”, oikawa tooru, for the project that was worth forty percent of your grade this semester.

when class ended, you marched ‘respectfully’ to your professor to negotiate if you can work on this project alone, but even before a word even slipped out of your mouth, your professor raised their eyebrow at you, sensing what you were going to say and just said “just deal with it” and “stop acting like a high school student”.

well, that was an ice cold bucket of reality that was just poured on you.

you were definitely acting like a high school student, and the cause of your behavior was none other than one of your school’s most obnoxious athletes, oikawa tooru.

seriously, there was just something about him that irked you so much. maybe it’s an accumulation of all his actions, his smugness, and the way he turns his nose on everyone, but all the girls and guys seemed to keep running back to him. everyone saw him as the ‘perfect king’, but you knew better. at least, you seemed to think so.

sometimes, you’d feel embarrassed at the way you were feeling and acting. you were raised to be a respectful person with good manners and conduct, so every time you get the pep talk from the imaginary angel on your shoulder, you’d try your best to be amicable with oikawa for every interaction since you shared multiple classes with him. but every time you did so, oikawa would end up doing something that broke your resolve and you were back to square one again. it seemed like the guy got off to annoying the shit out of you and making your day terrible.

with the professor long gone from the lecture room, you were left alone with your thoughts, up until you heard someone click their tongue. you shook your head as you turned to the source of the sound.

“aw, do you not want to be paired with me that badly? i’m not that bad! i’m going to help you do the work if that’s what you’re so worried about, sweetheart,” oikawa taunted in that lilting voice of his, with brown eyes glinting in mischief as he tossed his hair back.

“fuck off, tooru. just don’t slack off on this project or i’ll kick your ass,” you threatened him, anger slowly rising. he laughed at you, mirth making his eyes disappear. your lips thinned to a line as your anger increased.

you called him by his first name, not bothering with the respect (if he even deserved that) that came with addressing someone with their family name since you ‘hated’ his guts anyway, but somewhere deep down, you called him tooru because you like the way it sounded.

you liked the way it fell from your lips with a sigh whenever you touched yourself in the privacy of your room. the post nut clarity always hits you hard after orgasming with his face in your mind. maybe that’s why you pretended to hate him so much, because you were really just like the other girls. you were just as enamored by him as the other fangirls were, only they embraced it while you still denied it. nevertheless, the hornier you felt for him, the easier it was to channel that into anger and exasperation against him.

meanwhile, you didn’t notice it, as you were too busy in your own bubble, but his eyes darkened when he heard his given name slip from your lips. he’s more accepting of his desire for you, fucking his fist nearly every night with the thought of you underneath him, begging him to fuck that naughty pussy of yours to oblivion.

oh he knew that you were just putting up a front, and he let you. he knew it in the way your stares would linger and change into something deeper—more carnal. you thought he wouldn’t notice.

but he did.

he notices everything about you just like how he notices every play on the court. he relishes in it, practically keeping a tally in his head, so when he finally gets to pound your cunt, he’d confront you about it, and there’s nothing you can do about but accept his cock and his words.

he shook his head from his dark, carnal thoughts and slowly walked towards you, shoulders tightening as he fought the urge to slam you down on the table and fuck your cunt and make you scream so loud that people will come running.

you stood your ground as you looked up at him, which is a feat because you were damn near shaking and the tightening coil in your lower stomach was not helping either.

damn you oikawa tooru, you growled in your head.

he leaned down towards you until your noses were almost touching, with his bubblegum breath fanning your face and chocolate eyes boring into your own. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’m not going to let you do this on your own. what kind of guy would i be if i let you slave over this without my help? tsk, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me, now would it?” he says as he straightened his body, with attitude and face going back to his usual demeanor, different from the one before.

you sucked in a breath as he pulled away and he smirked at you. “see you later at 7pm, sweetheart. you know where my place is, don’t you?” he asked you absentmindedly, making your blood boil at the audacity of him expecting you knew where he lived, and you did, but that’s besides the point. he was just so fucking obnoxious.

you scoffed an affirmative at him which made his smirk grow wider. “count the hours until you get to see me again, darling. i know i will,” he winked salaciously as he turned his back on you, wiggling his fingers as a sign of goodbye. you didn’t bother to grace him with a respectful farewell. instead, you raised your middle finger at him that was accompanied by a glare.

he just laughed at you, “always so mad at me, sweetheart. maybe you need to remove some of that tension,” his gaze smoldered, eyes turning into molten brown.

you involuntarily gulped as he slowly looked you up and down. he made eye contact with you, eyes still dark, as he licked his lips. he looked like he was about to pounce on you and devour you. It took him every ounce of his focus and self-control before his lips curved into his i’m so perfect and you’re not smile and blew you a kiss as he finally walked off to his next class.

you bit your tongue to prevent yourself from screaming as you cursed oikawa in your head to hell and back. the nerve of this dickhead, you thought to yourself. you grumbled more to yourself as you hiked your bag over your shoulder and walked out of the lecture room. you were done for the day and despite what oikawa thinks, you weren’t going to count the hours until you get to be in his apartment with him. alone.

but then again, all you did was lie to yourself wherever he was concerned, because you definitely didn’t twiddle your thumbs for five hours, took a shower and shaved, basically pampered yourself to look good and decent for him. no, you definitely didn’t do any of that for him.

if you were paired with another person, you would have definitely arrived ten minutes before the set time, but because it was oikawa, you took your sweet time going to his apartment, annoyance brewing. what was so wrong with living on campus? you asked yourself along the way, which made you even more annoyed because he didn’t even offer to pick you up at the train station. not that he needed to, but the courtesy would’ve been nice and it would’ve made you see him differently, but he didn’t do any of that so you’re stuck stomping your way to his apartment building.

“are you sure about this, oikawa? makki and i don’t mind having front row seats to this shit,” mattsun smirked, arms resting on the back of the couch in the spacious apartment. oikawa invited them to hang out after practice because he said he had a “surprise” for them.

“don’t know about the other one there, though,” mattsun nodded to iwaizumi who was brooding by the floor to ceiling window, arms crossed as he raised his eyebrow at mattsun. “maybe he wants in on it,” makki piped which made all three of them laugh at iwaizumi while he just told all of them to fuck off. he didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to see you put in your place as well.

he wouldn’t have given a fuck about your petty and sexual tension-filled issues with his captain, but you also gave him grief whenever he was with oikawa and what better way than to witness, and probably have a hand in, seeing you begging and whining for your cunt to be filled with cum?  

“don’t worry guys, you’ll definitely have your turns,” oikawa’s eyes glinted as he smirked at his friends. “looks like little bunny is running late,” he checked his wall clock and tutted to himself.

sheesh, guess the king really does live lavishly, you grumbled to yourself as you stared at the intimidating complex. most college students are broke, live in school sponsored dormitories, and survive on store bought ramen, but oikawa obviously isn’t like most college students. you shook your head at the clear social divide and pushed through the spinning doors, the cool air of the lobby blowing into your face as you shivered from the temperature.

you walked up to the receptionist’s desk–of course there’s a receptionist–and you asked her what floor and room number oikawa’s apartment was. you just about thanked her when your phone pinged so you took it out and checked the message.

“you’re running late, little bunny. might have to punish you for this.”

your legs squirmed as you felt your panties dampen at oikawa’s text. your clothes seemed hotter now and you pulled at your collar. you cleared your throat and nodded to the receptionist as you walked to the elevator.

before you knew it, you found yourself before oikawa’s door. you were about to knock but it opened, revealing his shirtless form. you gulped and couldn’t help but stare at his lithe body, with droplets of water slowly trickling down his abdomen and disappearing through the waistband of his sweatpants. you raised your eyes to meet his. he was smirking at you, his smug face satisfied with your perusal of him. he was drying his damp hair with a towel, and it made his biceps ripple. why does he have to be so goddamn obnoxious and hot.

“are you done staring at me bunny? as much as i love your gaze on my body, that’s not what you’re here for, unless…?” he taunted you, his body lazily leaning against the doorframe as his tongue slowly licked the bottom of his lip as he stared at you this time. you scoffed at him, and didn’t bother to wait for his invitation inside his apartment.

you lightly shoved him, careful not to make most of your skin touch, which was a feat since he was naked from the waist up. “you wish, tooru. stop being stupid and let’s get this done and over with,” you muttered in annoyance, standing in the middle of his living room with your arms crossed and quietly observing your surroundings. “and don’t call me bunny!” you snarled at him, eyes meeting his glowing brown ones.

“i’ll call you anything i want to, bunny, and seeing that you’re in my home, you don’t get to have the privilege to order me around here, understand?” he warned you, voice lowering by a few octaves. if you had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between your legs by now. you bit your tongue and nodded at him with your eyes lowered. he smiled devilishly at you and turned his still shirtless body in the direction of what you presumed to be his room.

“let’s do this in my room, bunny. i have everything we need there,” you followed him without a word, realising that you were indeed powerless here. you didn’t notice the smug smile he was sporting, however, because his muscular back was turned to you. each step to his bedroom was a step closer to what he and by extension, his friends, had in store for you.

you entered his room and you marveled at his king size bed that was covered in navy blue sheets. there was a tall shelf against the off white walls that was filled with a few alien and ufo figurines, trophies, and framed pictures of him and his team.

you turned to him to ask about what he wanted to do until you felt him loom over you. he looked at you like you were his prey and he was the predator, which was not a far cry because you really did feel like a bunny and he was the big bad wolf. his dark eyes seared into your body as you felt your heartbeat quicken.

in one blink, he had you on your back on the soft bed with your wrists pinned together with one big hand as he nuzzled his nose on your neck and inhaled. “you smell so good, bunny. did you clean yourself up for me?” he hummed and shamelessly snaked out his tongue to lick a stripe on your neck which made you squeal at the hot and wet muscle against your skin. “taste good too,” he chuckled, the vibrations and heat of his breath making your spine tingle and arousal grow.

his timing was impeccable, he pinned you down before you even had the chance to notice the phone propped on the table beside his bed, with a fancy desktop where a few books laid askew, and his friends staring intently from the small screen. mattsun opened his mouth and before he could break the tension, makki slapped his hand over it and quietly shushed him. iwaizumi was too transfixed at the situation before him to reprimand mattsun for almost interrupting.

“t-tooru! get off—” you weren’t able to finish your sentence before oikawa bit the skin of your neck to quiet you down. “you should be honest with yourself, you know? i know how you look at me,” he teased you, slowly kissing down your body through your shirt. 

“not so feisty now, hm? you’re so putty in my hands,” he rose to his knees on the bed and let go of your wrists. you raised your arm to slap him on the face but he caught it, he also grabbed your other arm and slightly squeezed them as a sign of warning. “there she is, my feisty little girl,” he smirked down at you. his brown hair glistening in the low light of his bedroom as his dark eyes glinted at you.

he transferred your other wrist to his one hand as he slowly untied the strings on his sweatpants. you didn’t miss the growing bulge in pants, cock hardening at what was about to happen. you swallowed the lump in your throat because after so many nights of fantasizing and imagining, you’re going to finally see what he would look like under all those clothes.

“you want my cock? of course you do, your eyes are practically dripping with greed,” he mocked you, his hand slowly lowering his pants until his naked cock sprang free and bounced on his abdomen. fuck, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. your pussy gushed at the thought of him lounging around his apartment with only a thin fabric separating his cock from exposure.

“got nothing to say, hm? i was hoping you’d run your mouth just so i could have the excuse of shutting you up with my cock,” he taunted, eyes studying your face as a smirk stretched his lips. “did seeing my cock shut you up? i do have a pretty cock, don’t i?” he questioned you rhetorically.

you hated it because he was right. his cock was as pretty as him and it was enough to swallow on the words rising from your throat. it wasn’t overly girthy but you knew that it would still cause damage just by watching it pulse and throb, with pre-cum leaking from its tip.

“i’m going to let go of your hands now, slutty bunny, and you’re going to suck my cock until i fill your throat and mouth with my hot cum,” he told you in a matter of fact tone, and you really wished your weak self would protest and shove him away and bolt from his apartment to disappear from the face of the earth, but you couldn’t deny this opportunity, couldn’t deny yourself anymore, and oikawa knew that. he’s playing you like a fiddle and you’re absolutely falling for it.

he let go of your hands and you immediately gripped his cock, the other one holding on to his muscled thigh for balance. you licked one long line on the underside of his shaft before going back to suck the pre-cum on his tip. he tightly closed his eyes as he groaned, putting one hand on the back of your head and felt his thigh tense at the stimulation brought by your tongue.

your lips curled into a smug smile at oikawa’s reaction. he noticed it and glared down at you, he was about to say something before you widened your mouth to fit his entire cock in one go. you slightly gagged when he hit the back of your throat. oikawa threw his head back as he let out a long and loud moan, cock twitching in the heat and wetness of your mouth.

determined to make oikawa lose his shit, you started bobbing your head as you licked and sucked on his throbbing cock, maintaining eye contact with him. his lips were parted as he stared down at your moving head, eyes smoldering and grip tightening. you watched as his chest heaved up and down, his breathing becoming heavier.

oikawa lightly shook his head to get rid of the haze your mouth put him in and squeezed the roots of your hair. you moaned in pain while you narrowed your eyes at him. just when you were about to give him a lashing, he cut you off.

“my cock may be in your mouth but this is not your time to shine, bunny. you do have a good mouth on you, but i’m here to fuck that mouth until you learn your place,” he growled at you, the vein in his temple pulsing as he tried to regain control.

you didn’t even have time to think before he pulled out and slammed his cock back inside your mouth, balls hitting your chin. you cried around his cock as your eyes immediately watered at the sudden force of his thrust. you squeezed his thighs as a sign for him to settle before he fucked your mouth like a fleshlight.

unfortunately, he only gave you a few moments to get used to his size before his hands bundled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and used them as leverage to fuck his cock in and out of your mouth. he groaned as he watched the tears from your eyes fall around your full cheeks as you moaned like a whore with his cock in your mouth.

“i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me, huh?” he taunted you, not stopping from his thrusts. you whined pathetically and felt slick from your cunt wet your panties. “fuck, you do. just how much of a slutty hypocrite are you? all you do is lie to yourself-shit, that’s good–and pretend to hate me when you’re just like everyone else,” he growled, thrusting deep until he hit the back of your throat, clearly frustrated with your actions. you were slobbering all over his cock, saliva and pre-cum staining your face with how fast he was thrusting, while it dripped on the sheets below you.

his groans grew louder and his thrusts became sloppier as he neared his orgasm. you so badly wanted to touch yourself but with the way you were positioned, you’d end up choking on oikawa’s cock if you removed your hands from his thighs. instead, you tried your best to ignore the growing ache in your pussy.

“swallow all my cum, you slutty whore,” he ordered you, voice straining as he delivered one final thrust inside of your mouth before you felt the warm spurts of his cum paint the insides of your mouth and throat. you moaned at the heat, your mouth so full of his cock and cum that you tapped his thigh to give you room to breathe. thankfully, he pulled out his cock with a pop as you inhaled loudly, throat raw from the fucking it experienced.

even if he didn’t tell you, you would’ve swallowed his cum to try and make a statement. he gripped your chin as he inspected your mouth, eyes flashing in satisfaction when he saw your mouth empty. “that’s a good fucking girl,” he said, thumb going inside of your mouth as he pushed on your tongue. you closed your eyes as you breathed heavily, hands hanging limply on your thighs.

oikawa seized the opportunity to swiftly look at his phone, smirking at his friends when he noticed them shifting uncomfortably. iwaizumi flipped him off and oikawa just winked at him.

he turned back to you with your eyes still closed, stealthily blocking your view of his phone as he pulled his thumb from your mouth and licked it. his cock was still hard, owing to the pent-up tension that you have been giving him ever since day one.

he shoved you so your back landed on the bed as he straddled your waist, kicking off the rest of his sweatpants and chucking them to the floor. you opened your eyes as you yelped at the sudden movement, wondering what the fuck he was going to do now.

“what are you do–” you questioned him, but before you could finish, he ripped your shirt into two pieces. your eyes widened in protest as your sports bra-clad chest was exposed to him. “i’m going to fuck these pretty tits, whore,” he said as he squeezed your breasts together and groped them, making your nipples harden into peaks.

you moaned at his touch, finally feeling some stimulation on your body after aching for so long. he lowered his head down to your chest and started sucking on your nipple through the fabric. you threw your head back on his pillow and whined, his hard cock grinding on your thigh at the sounds you were making. he sucked and licked until your back arched to him, silently begging for more.

he raised his head from your chest which made you whimper at the loss of warmth. he looked wild, like he was a man on a mission.

his large hands reached for your bra and stretched the fabric until your tits were exposed to the cool air of his room. you moaned at the feeling of being exposed to oikawa, he stared at your hardened nipples, watching as his cock twitched against his abdomen. you watched his adam’s apple bob until you saw his mouth open. he spit on the valley between your breasts, string connecting from his lips. you moaned at the obscenity of his actions, spit feeling cold and thick as it ran down your chest.

he groaned at the sight, one hand guiding his cock under your bra and inserting himself between your tits. once he settled in between them, he squeezed them together to create that tightness. it wasn’t enough but he’s been wanting to fuck your tits, and it’s finally happening now. he thrusted and groaned at the softness of your breasts squeezing his cock.

his cockhead hit your chin, making it wet with your saliva mixed with his cum. your body rocked along with his thrusts, hearing him grunt and moan as he squeezed and fucked your tits. you wanted to touch yourself, but he was holding you down so you couldn’t reach your pussy. his thrusts became faster and your breasts became wetter as he neared his second orgasm of the night.

you watched him and you became even more annoyed because even in the throes of passion, he was still so pretty. pink lips parted as he breathed loudly, brown eyes darkening the more he looked at you, and that drop of sweat from his neck going down his defined chest.

“g-gonna cum bunny, fuck,” he grunted loudly, head thrown back as his cock spilled his cum and landed on your chin, neck, and chest. he stopped moving and stared at his work in amazement. you glared at him, because although he looked divine when he came, you still hadn’t experienced any type of relief for the night.

“tooru, i’m starting to think you can’t make a girl cum,” you raised your eyebrow in defiance, looking at him boredly, arms supporting you as you lifted your body in a sitting position. “all you did was pleasure yourself. do you even know how to pleasure a girl?” you taunted him, displeasure clearly written over your face. he watched your expression and smirked to himself.

the nerve of this guy.

“oh bunny, i can definitely pleasure you and make you cum. several times, in fact,” he said, eyes tracing his finger as he spread his cum all over your chest. “i just had the foresight to let myself cum twice because if i went straight to fucking you, you’d pass out before i even got my fill of you,” he purred, cock twitching again.

“and i want you to be aware of everything i’m going to do to your body,” he ended his statement with a pinch to your nipple. you yelped at the sting and swatted his hand away. he let out a low laugh before he grabbed your hips and abruptly flipped you over to your stomach.

“let’s remove these pesky shorts, shall we?” he said as he slapped your ass hard. you squealed at the pain, almost forgetting that he’s a volleyball captain and you’ve seen how lethal his serves can be. but you know that he’s not putting all of his strength in that slap. he laughed at your reaction and slapped the other cheek of your ass before pulling your shorts down and throwing it to the floor, eyes subtly flicking to the table.

“pretty ass wearing pretty panties,” he whispered, his index finger tracing the white lace of your panties. your face flushed in embarrassment because you know he’s thinking that you wore those for him. you did, but you’re never going to admit that.

never in a million years.

“your reaction tells me all i need to know, bunny. you definitely wore these for me,” he growled, his large hand coming down to your ass again as you cried at the pain. he watched the plumpness of your ass jiggle before he landed a few more consecutive slaps on the skin.

satisfied with the redness of your ass and the whimpering that came out of your mouth, he tore your panties into two flimsy pieces. he slowly removed them from your pussy, your wetness clinging on to them and forming a string. “can’t wait to fuck this dirty pussy, bunny,” he groaned as he watched it, cock pulsing at the tip.

he didn’t even bother removing your cum stained bra before he pulled your hips up until you were on your knees. he pushed his hand on your lower back, forming a deep arch until you bared your wet pussy to him. leaving one hand on your hip, he guided his throbbing cock to your clenching pussy and ran his tip along your folds. both of you moaned at the stimulation, sensitivity running down your bodies. you gulped at how he was going to make himself fit.

he stopped at your clenching hole before he pushed the tip in, squeezing your hip as he groaned, feeling the tightness around his head. you were about to thrust yourself on his cock because he was taking his sweet time before he shoved himself, making the both of you cry out as he bottomed out in your pussy. he gave an experimental roll of his hips which made your pussy flutter around his cock. he moaned at the sensation, bracing both of his hands on your hips.

he pulled back out and thrusted harder this time, drawing out a moan from you at the force and fisted the sheets in your hands. he began snapping his hips against your ass as you moaned louder.

“look at how my cock’s splitting you,” he grunted, eyes trained at how his cock was disappearing in your cunt. “swallowing my cock like it’s nobody’s business. your fingers aren’t enough. no, you need my cock,” he hissed as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust. he slapped your ass every time he thrusted back in, the double stimulation making you moan like a whore.

his obsession with your ass didn’t stop there. he stopped spanking your ass and centered on the puckered ring that was slightly clenching. he tilted his head to the side and stared at it in wonder. he gathered the saliva in his mouth as he spat on it. you squealed at the new sensation, body rubbing against the bed as he brought his thumb to play with the tight ring, an area you never dared to touch.

“t-tooru, that’s dirty!” you cried out in indignation, trying to squirm away from his finger, but you couldn’t because his cock was drilling your pussy to the bed.

“so? it’s perfect for a fucking dirty girl like you,” he growled, thinking twice if he should insert his thumb in your asshole, but he decided not to. he figured you weren’t ready for that, yet.

he removed his finger from your asshole as he gripped your hips to fuck you even harder, clearly frustrated that he wasn’t able to plunge his thumb in your ass. you moaned at the harshness of his thrusts as he pushed on the back of your neck to the bed. you whined at the pressure, switching your head to the side as you focused on oikawa’s brutal thrusts. that was when you noticed a phone on the table, seeing three red faces peering at you.

“oh my god, are they watching us?!” your eyes widened as you cried out. oikawa looked to the side and chuckled. “took you long enough. they were starting to feel lonely because you weren’t noticing them–fuck, that’s a good pussy,” he hissed as he felt your cunt tighten around his cock.

“why don’t you scream for them as well, hm?” he said as he delivered a particularly hard thrust that made you moan loudly while looking at his friends. iwa, makki, and mattsun groaned at your reaction, shifting their pants as they stayed in their respective places in the next room.

“t-tooru, please turn off your phone!” you cried, tears streaming down your face as you felt shame, embarrassment, and surprisingly, arousal creeping up your sweaty body. were you getting turned on by his friends watching your pussy get fucked?

“fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry,” he groaned as he spanked your ass once more, thrusting harder as he felt your cunt squeeze the shit out of his cock, clearly enjoying the fact that you were getting excited about being watched.

“and besides, i don’t think you really want me to. i think you like getting fucked stupid for my friends to see,” oikawa taunted you, his hands squeezing the fat of your hips. he moved your bodies so you were facing his phone head on, your fucked out face clear for them to watch. you lowered your head to save some of your dignity but he pulled your hair, neck straining as he showed your face to show them.

“tsk, don’t hide your face from them, bunny, let them see how good i’m fucking you,” he said as he looked at his phone, smirking at his friends who glared at him, clearly wanting to leave and bust the door down just to prove him wrong.

“after all, you are an attention whore. i’m just giving you what you want,” he whispered as he leaned down to bite the lobe of your ear. you whined at his strong thrusts, slick from your pussy sliding down your thighs.

“maybe you want them to come in here after i’m done with you and use you as a cum dumpster, do you want that?” he asks, hips thrusting hard as his balls hit your sopping cunt. you whined at his statement, hands gripping the sheets as your vision blurred from the pleasure.

“y-yes i want that! shit, t-tooru, feels so fucking good,” you whined, brain turning into mush as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. your legs were starting to tremble as your orgasm was fast approaching. oikawa knew you were going to cum so he pulled your hair harder and leaned down to whisper in your ear, his sweaty torso covering the expanse of your back.

“it’s okay, you can say it, tell me you love the way i’m fucking this filthy pussy. you’re the only one who doesn’t want to admit it,” he growled in your ear as he furiously played with your clit, making the knot in your stomach threaten to burst from his ministrations.

“i l-love the way you’re f-fucking me tooru! so fucking good, yes—!” you screamed as you came all around his cock, body shaking from the intense orgasm. oikawa groaned loudly as he filled you up with his cum, yours mixing with his. you moaned at the warmth in your pussy, breathing heavily as you tried to regain your senses. he came so much that it was sliding down your legs and staining his sheets.

you looked up at his phone and saw his friends staring at you with their jaws dropped. you would laugh at how comical they looked if you hadn’t just experienced the best fucking of your life, though you’ll never say that to oikawa. ever. you sighed instead, feeling icky with all the cum on and in your body.

you were about to lay on your back until oikawa carried you off the bed and slammed you against the wall, his hand cushioning your head from the hard cement. you yelped as your head spinned from the sudden movement.

“oh? you thought we were done? i promised to make you cum several times, didn’t i?” he smirked at you. you were amazed at his strength, his biceps flexing as he wrapped your still shaking legs around his waist. he didn’t even give you time to breathe before he plunged his hard cock inside your leaking pussy. fuck, this man’s stamina is endless.

you moaned wantonly as he pistoned his hips in and out of your cunt, hands squeezing the back of your thighs. your sweaty back was sliding against the wall as your body moved up and down, hands holding his shoulders for support. you noticed that you were still wearing your bra and it made you uncomfortable at the restriction it was causing to your tits.  

“we want to see her tits, oikawa!” mattsun exclaimed. he was practically bouncing in his seat in excitement. iwaizumi didn’t stop him because he wanted to see your breasts too.

oikawa  smirked, “you heard what he said, wanna show these tits to them?” you nodded frantically, embarrassment nowhere to be found as you removed your hands from his shoulders, finally removing the stained fabric from your chest. oikawa squeezed them with one big hand as soon as they were exposed causing all of them to collectively groan at the sight while oikawa continued fucking you.

“you walk around hating me only for you to end up getting fucked by my cock?” he growled at you as he ended his sentence with a hard thrust. “how pathetic and cock-hungry you must be. such a fucking whore.” you whined at his words, not being able to say anything because it was true. you were a cock-hungry whore for him, and you loved how he was fucking you with pent-up anger and frustration.

he squeezed your hips tighter, all the accumulated fluids in between you making lewd squelching sounds as you neared your orgasm once again. “to–tooru, fuck!” you screamed, cunt clenching as his cock hit your sweet and sensitive spot, walls fluttering around him.

“cum for me, whore,” he growled as he lowered his head to bite your neck. you came with a scream as you left red lines on his shoulders. his thrusts slowed down as he set your shaking legs down to the floor. he was still inside of you as he leaned his forehead down to yours, eyes closed as a drop of sweat fell from his hairline. his defined chest heaved as he fought to catch his breaths.

he carried you back to the bed with his cock still inside you. you thought he was going to pull out until he grabbed your limp legs and put them on his shoulders. you moaned at the new position, weakly trying to push him away because you were so tired. “n-no more tooru, t-too sensitive!” you weakly protested, hands trying to push yourself away from him.

“i think your dirty cunt can give me one more orgasm, hm? can you be a good whore and do that for me?” he cooed at you, thumbs slightly rubbing your ankles. you softly nodded at him, enamored by his sparkling brown eyes, or were you just drunk on his cum and musky scent? either way, his cock was too good to deny, even if your pussy was already close to being numb.

he smiled devilishly at you, he hugged your legs closer to his body as he started thrusting once more. you were practically incoherent, mouth sputtering unintelligible words and high pitched whines as oikawa rode your pussy. he let one leg fall off his shoulder as he gripped the headboard, mattress squeaking from his deep thrusts.

you watched as a drop of sweat fell from his neck and travelled down his chest and abdomen to mix with your joined bodies. you were so wet and slick down there that every thrust oikawa made only served to make your pussy throb and pulse around him more. you were moaning with reckless abandon, uncaring of the people that were watching your bruised cunt getting relentlessly fucked, only caring to climax one final time just so tooru would let you go and pass out on his bed.

oikawa was thrusting so hard and fast that the headboard was banging against the wall, with your breasts bouncing up and down along with it. you could tell that he too was at his limit, judging by how his thrusts became sloppier and erratic and his moans increasing in volume and pitch.

“t-tooru, g-gonna cum, please,” you said, he groaned as he brought down his arm from the headboard and played with your clit, pinching it with his fingers, making you scream and arch your back as you squirted all around him. he came with a loud moan as he saw the clear liquid shoot out from your pussy, drenching his abdomen. “fuck, did you just squirt?” he breathed in amazement, eyes widened and mouth dropped.

he set your leg down and pulled out as he watched your mixed fluids trickle out of your cunt. you were too fucked out to care as he played with your pussy, your mouth open and eyes drooping as you breathed loudly and heavily. he was pushing the mixed cum back inside your filthy cunt when you heard the door swing open to reveal your three voyeurs, all with tented cocks stretching the front of their pants.

“shit, oikawa. you actually fucked her dumb,” mattsun said in fascination, watching your chest heave up and down. makki hummed in agreement while iwaizumi just stared at your dripping cunt, watching your cum and tooru’s trickling out of your pussy and sliding down your ass, staining the sheets. you shivered at their stares and brought your hand to spread your folds, making them see your filthy pussy better. you smirked lazily as you heard the men in the room groan in unison while you swirled your finger, playing with the cum in your cunt.

“you got room for three more cocks, baby?” mattsun taunted you, three of them entering the room and standing at the foot of the bed. your smirk dropped as you watched iwaizumi take his shirt off, leaning your head back on the pillow as you moaned tiredly, your battered pussy quivering at the thought of more cocks making a mess of your cunt.

needless to say, you and oikawa didn’t get any work done on the project that night.

[9:21 PM]

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hello i would kill for some awkward Connor attempting to comfort Chris during training please and thank you

Follow-up to this piece from yesterday

CW: Pet whump, implied whump of a minor, bruising, some dehumanizing language, BBU, facility whump, creepy comfort, The Moral Standards of Monsters, some implied conditioning due to ableism (blink-and-you’ll-miss-it)

“Hey, Manning.”

Connor looks up from his lunch - he’s at his desk in his training room, a sandwich, bag of chips, and bottle of his iced coffee set out in front of him while he finishes up paperwork from the last trainee’s fitness reports - and sighs. Fucking Luke goddamn Petrus. “Yeah?”

For a second, his stomach flips. Linda swore up and down that the complaint would be anonymous, and Connor isn’t the only person in the hallway who has brought up the screaming being… irritating… but still.

Luke is Director Renford’s favorite in a big way, her loyal henchman, and he can make a handler’s life a living hell if he wants to.

Luke leans against the open doorway, giving him a bright smile. Above the expression, though, Luke’s blue eyes stay cold as ice. Like the Director, Connor thinks sometimes. Two fucking peas in a pod, and Connor’s always a little bit on the outside.

Lately, though, he’s been feeling kind of grateful he’s on the outskirts. The Director’s approval is something everyone works for, but having her focus on you too long and too thoroughly sounds as terrifying as her anger.

“I just got called up to a meeting with Renford.”

Renford. Like they’re buddies. Like he’s equals with her. Connor keeps his mouth shut, but he wonders how the Director would react if she knew he calls her Renford when she’s not right in front of him. “Good for you. I don’t see why that should affect my lunch break.”

“The meeting could last a few hours. I know you’ve got the afternoon off from trainee work. Would you mind keeping an eye on one of mine? He’s just out of a week in solitary, so he’s needy as fuck.”

Connor perks up a little at that. Needy trainee and unscheduled afternoon sounds like just the pick-me-up he needs today. “He need any training work?”

“Nah. Do whatever you want with him.” Luke gives Connor a wink. “He’s got some top notch fucking flexibility. Just saying. You can twist him into pretzels. Tell him he’s being good and he’ll do it all himself. Kid’s eager as fuck now that we’re past the halfway point.”

Kid?

Connor swears internally but keeps his expression carefully the same. “What do you mean, kid, Luke? Wait a sec-”

“I’ll bring him in, hold on!” Luke’s already gone from the doorway.

Connor has a sinking feeling of realization that Luke didn’t just randomly decide to leave a trainee with him. He must’ve figured out who put the fucking complaint in. And he knows that Connor hates the screaming, if he knows that.

Which means…

Luke reappears, and sure enough, the little redheaded trainee who is the cause of all the wailing and sobbing is right beside him.

No weights hanging from his hands this time, but there are deep red marks around his wrists and bruises at his upper arms just below his sleeves that suggest he’s done plenty of training work this morning, whatever Luke says.

Jesus, this kid is eerily beautiful. Pale skin, flushed in the aftermath of tears, with a smattering of freckles all over like constellations of stars. His hair’s that rare shining strawberry blond, with eyebrows pale enough to make him seem faintly inhuman. Connor wonders exactly which piece of shit with a thing for teenagers put the order in.

He wants to make sure he doesn’t vote for the guy.

Not that Connor Manning votes.

But maybe he’ll start, and then start purposefully voting for someone else. That's probably way more effort than he'll ever put in to anything that isn't work or Socks, but it feels kind of nice to think about it.

The trainee keeps his eyes carefully down on the floor. Connor notes he’s not even wearing the shock collar any longer - just your average band of black leather, buckled at the side, no padlock. Not only not being shocked, or not needing it, but already far enough along not to try and remove his own collar.

“Luke. I’ve told you how I feel about the underagers-”

“Yeah, and I’ve told you that you can judge me when you're an angel, numbnuts. You’re not better than me. You just have different victims.”

“Oh, the Director would have a shit-fit hearing you call the trainees victims.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m the only one who really grasps exactly what it is we do here, Manning. I just also happen to enjoy it. Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your life, right?"

“Go fuck yourself, Petrus. I enjoy my job just fine.” Why is he defensive about this? Connor doesn’t quite understand the surge of irritation within him. Why does he give a fuck what Luke goddamn Petrus has to say about anything, anyway?

“Yeah, for now you do. We’ll see how it goes. I’ve been at this gig for a long time, I see the ones who flame out, and you’re one of them. Anyway, I’ve got to go meet with Renford, I’ll be back by three. If you get tired of him, just put him on the mat and I’ll pick him up when I’m done.”

“Yeah, okay.” Connor frowns, pushing himself to his feet. “I do like my job, Petrus.”

“For now. Bet I’ll be the only person here totally unsurprised when you quit one day.”

“I’m not going to quit.”

“I’ll bet you a thousand damn dollars you do, and I’ll raise the bet to fifteen hundred that it’s over your fucking conscience making a reappearance.”

“Don’t have one."

Luke just sighs, and gives Connor a patronizing little smirk before he turns and leaves. The trainee looks over his shoulder to watch Luke go, pleading with his eyes but not saying a word. The door shuts, and Connor and the trainee are alone.

Connor clears his throat, picking up the sandwich but finding he doesn’t really want it any longer. “What’s your number, trainee?”

The boy’s eyes snap back to him, briefly, before they drop to the floor. Connor notes with vague professional detachment that they’re red-rimmed. He’s been crying again, but then, when isn’t this fucking trainee crying?

When he’s screaming instead, Connor’s thoughts answer him.

God, he wishes these trainees didn’t get to him so much. He can’t talk to anyone about it, either, word will get out Connor Manning has regrets. Questioning the company is a good way to find yourself on the wrong end of a shock collar.

“223499, sir,” The boy says. His voice is low and soft, and each number and word is deliberately placed, as if he’s carefully pacing himself as he speaks. “Designation… Romantic-”

“Yeah, I knew that already. That’s all Luke does.” Connor leans his chin on his hand, looking the kid over. There’s solid muscle in that kid, he thinks, legacy of whatever life he lived before. It’s wasting away under the carefully calibrated malnourishment they’re all subjected to, but the memory of strength is in there, still. An easy, unconscious grace that didn’t have to be taught. “You’ve already done training work today?”

Those green eyes flash up at him again, nervous. Frightened. The boy shifts from foot to foot, then goes still. His fingers twitch before he pauses that, too. Connor watches it all with a kind of slightly repulsed interest. “Yes, sir. But… Handler Petrus said that… that if you want, you can-... can test me-”

“I don’t want,” Connor says heavily, cutting him off with a gesture. The boy’s mouth snaps shut instantly. “Not in the mood.”

There’s an expression of genuine confusion - when is a handler not in the mood? - that flits across the boy’s face. It’s a look of such comedic bafflement that Connor ends up laughing, shaking his head. He doesn’t even put his sexy, dark laugh on, but just snort-laughs naturally, before he walks over to the kid, watching him pull into himself, shoulders hunched.

“Relax, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The kid’s nose wrinkles. It’s adorable. “But… all you do… is hurt us.”

Luke’s fucking technique, Connor thinks. Luke’s trainees don’t forget anything he’s taught them, to be sure, but they never quite learn how to act like they’re in love with it, either. Connor can turn out a trainee who genuinely thinks he’s in love. Luke turns out trainees who hate everything they can’t stop themselves from doing.

Some perspectives are into that, he supposes. Connor thinks he’d rather have the act.

“Yeah, well, I’m not going to do that today. Come on,” Connor says, and his voice gentles a little. “I’ve got plenty to keep myself busy with. Why don’t you lay down on the mat and get some sleep while I work?” He puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling him trembling slightly through the thin cloth of his white trainee t-shirt. The boy moves when he’s nudged, carefully stepping across the room, tense as a wire about to snap.

“Are you-... are you going to, to, to, to, um-” The boy flinches back from an expected punishment when he stammers. "Silence is, is better than stammering, try again, silence is better than-... try again." The kid mutters to himself, takes a deep breath, tries again. "Are you... going to... give me a pill?"

Connor pulls his hand back, frowning. Now it’s his turn to look confused.

What the fuck is even going on with this kid?

“Nah. I don't even keep them in my training room. No worries, kid.” He pitches his voice low, soothing, reassuring. “The only thing I intend to do is finish up some papers, go take a smoke break outside, and then come back and get set up for my next rounds at seven before I head out. This is a real break. Okay? I’m not even interested in whatever it is Handler Petrus is doing with you. I just want to do my job.”

The kid looks at him. He’s almost always seen him drugged out of his gourd, barely able to focus on anything not right in front of his face. Right now, though, there’s a sense that the boy is considering his words, actually able to think about them. “Yes, sir. I can-... I, I can lay down?” 

 “Yeah, go for it.” Connor waves his hand again, moving back to his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” The kid’s gratitude is pathetic. Connor has to give Luke that, he does know how to make a trainee say thank you for just about anything. Connor’s method takes more work to get to that than Luke’s.

But Connor doesn’t have to drug his trainees to do it. And he doesn’t work with kids.

Shit. Maybe I am going to wind up with a conscience. Handlers get fired over that.

Or worse.

After a pause, watching him go, the kid kneels down, then lays down on his stomach, making as much contact with the heated mat as he can. There’s a soft exhale, something almost like contentment. Connor watches those tensed, probably painful muscles slowly relax. His bare feet start to rub against each other, back and forth, back and forth.

There’s a blanket nearby, and the boy hesitantly grabs at it, pulls it over himself. Breathes out, eyes fluttering shut as warmth surrounds him utterly for what’s probably the first time in a while. Or at least warmth that doesn’t come with certain conditions.

Connor’s eyes trace the line of the boy’s jaw - there’s a bruise there, too, like a thumb pressed too hard into delicate skin. Coppery eyelashes lay flat, long enough to just brush his cheek. His hair falls over his forehead and eyes.

It’s like looking at a fucking painting.

“Jesus, you’re pretty as hell, aren’t you?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow, briefly, but he doesn’t open his eyes or pull back from the mat. He curls up tighter under the blanket, disappearing up to his chin.

Connor turns back to his work, filling out a questionnaire. He’s still working at it when he hears, just barely, the boy’s soft reply to his question.

“I, I, I wish I wasn’t.”

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

Tag List:

@xxboesefrauxx ​ @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

[astranva]

Daffodil

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language.

Inspired by lines from Lana Del Rey’s excerpt from her poetry book – ‘L.A, Who Am I To Love You?’

“And also I can't sleep without you No one's ever really held me like you Not quite tightly, but certainly I feel your body next to me.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

 It was suffocating.

Oxygen wasn’t always an ally, at least not there and then for Harry. He had changed t-shirts 4 times after each one got soaked with his own sweat, before finally resorting to taking a shower.

His body felt limp, like it was on auto-pilot mode and he wasn’t in control of it, only watching as his legs dragged him to the room he tried to avoid if it was anything of no necessity.

He remembers a time when he loved the full-body mirror that stood in the room. He remembers the amount of pictures that one mirror caught, the amount of kisses it had witnessed. But as he passed, his stomach flipped upside now.

He had been avoiding seeing his face for far too long, could go as far and say that he hadn’t seen himself since it happened, a month ago.

But he caught a glimpse of himself and he couldn’t help but divert all his attention to the reflection that stared back at him. His hair was greasy, red blotches on his cheeks that seemed to mock him for crying too much for his skin’s own liking, puffy eyes, dry lips that reminded him that the alcohol he sipped at wasn’t what his body needed and that it needed water. He looked…pathetically sad.

But he was okay with it, being sad. Of course he was, how couldn’t he?

He looked dull – dead. Harry grimaced at the sight, his heart seeming to break and shatter even more – if possible – at the sight, feeling as if he couldn’t really recognize himself.

He took a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from the reflection before moving along with the simple task; showering.

He hadn’t bothered taking out clothes prior to stepping inside the bathroom, wanting to just get it over with.

Harry took off his t-shirt and boxers, throwing them in the hamper before his eyes caught sight of it. Her toothbrush.

His mind was loud, screaming at him to keep his hands to himself, to get his shit together and maybe throw the damn brush away but he shut that off, reaching to grab the vibrant green toothbrush with rough bristles, as if confirming the absence of its owner.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling his nose itch before he set the toothbrush back in its rightful place, right beside the hair cream she used to use.

It probably didn’t help that he used her minty shampoo and coconut shower gel, mindlessly doing so. He hated how dependent he was on her, even when she wasn’t there but he didn’t know any better and he didn’t want to.

Harry’s shower was quick, as if he was in hurry to get out of the place that held so much of her belongings. The cold water didn’t soothe his muscles either, it only tensed them more, making him shower with a clenched jaw as he struggled to get used to the cold temperature – it was too cold and he fucking hated how it made sense.

It was all too cold.

Without her.

He had dried his body quickly before reaching towards the cabinet underneath the sink to take out the microfiber towel which she had gotten him,

“The material just causes lack of friction, know what that means? Less frizz. It also dries your hair faster than the cotton ones.” She had said as she dried his hair one night after her trip from the grocery store, the pink microfiber in her hand thoroughly drying Harry’s wet hair before she began scrunching some of the long lockets of hair.

He loved the towel.

He loves her.

Walking naked and barefoot, he opened the wardrobe, taking out a pair of shorts and resting them on his shoulder before opening a drawer to take out briefs. Harry contemplated wearing a top at all, but then reached to grab one – the one right on top.

Hers.

His movement halted as he felt the material in his hand, looking at the familiar watermelon-printed t-shirt.

“H!” She ran to him the moment he stepped inside their home, a wide grin on her face as she looked at his amused face. How couldn’t he be? She was standing in a watermelon-printed t-shirt and Toy Story-themed shorts. “Look what I got!”

It was that damn t-shirt and the love they made that night that had him write Watermelon Sugar.

That t-shirt.

His chest seemed to clench around his heart, almost begging him to put the t-shirt away, and that time, he listened and folded the t-shirt and put it behind his pile of t-shirts, nonchalantly grabbing another t-shirt before speeding out of the room to put on his clothes somewhere else.

Harry wasn’t stupid, but at times like these, he really thought he was.

He was stupid enough to think that it was the room he could escape when in fact, she was implemented in every little nook, every cushion – everywhere. Hell, even the coaster he had put his cup of tea on in the morning was one she had gotten.

After putting his clothes on, he walked to the kitchen. Surprisingly, he found his phone on the kitchen table, lit up as it released no sound and he was more amused by the fact that he had forgotten he placed it there.

‘Gem’ the screen had read, showing him a picture of him and his sister from when they were kids.

Harry debated picking up the phone. They all had been checking up on him, almost pleading to visit him but he was set every single time;

“I want to be alone.” He had said, every time.

He knew they were concerned, knew they cared about him but he couldn’t not cringe and grow even more melancholic when he heard the pity in their voices and, worse, he knew that in their minds, they probably called him a few names;

Pathetic.

Coward.

Dick.

He knew they probably liked the state he was in because after all, it was all his fault.

He gulped, taking his phone in his hand before answering, putting the phone on his ear and waiting for his sister to speak first.

“Harry? You here?”

He hummed, “Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, making him clear his throat.

Gemma sighed through the phone and he wasn’t sure what type of sigh was that, but it seemed to be as one of relief. He really needed to assure them more often.

“How are you?”

Harry had begun to hate the question. He didn’t like lying, but how could he reply with the same miserable answer every time? If you wanted an honest answer, he would give you one that went like that:

“Never been worse. I’m sad, I’m hallow. I think I need therapy but I know I need her more. I miss her but I’m a fucking dick.”

But he didn’t settle on that one for Gemma, no. Instead, Harry moved to fill the kettle with water while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, and gave her an answer anyone would want to hear,

“’M fine. How are you?”

But Gemma wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t a distant relative nor was she a friend he hung out with every other year – she was his sister and she knew him better than that.

“You can be honest, you know?” She reminded him, “I understand.”

It assured him, really. Not enough to make him smile, but it felt somewhat nice but nonetheless, he hummed.

So, Gemma went on, “I want to head to the flower market, what do you say about joining me?”

Harry’s movement halted, standing straight and holding his phone with his hand, “Which?”

She was glad he didn’t decline right away, but knew she still had to choose the right cards to play. “Columbia Road’s.”

“Th-I-That’s one of her favorite places.” He commented.

“What are the odds that she would be there, Harry?”

“Yeah, what if she was, Gemma? I-I can’t, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, feeling anxious at just the mere possibility of seeing her.

“Please,” Gemma said gently, “You love that place.”

Because of her, he wanted to say. It was her who made him love that place despite the amount of people with their phones out, taking picture after picture of the flowers instead of actually buying or learning about them.

“I’m telling you; some people spend so much money on carnations and boast about their blue colors, but they always have no idea that they’re actually dyed.” She had told him once as they strolled through the market, hand in hand.

Gemma knew she was making a risky move, but she took her chances. “What if you see her? What happens if you do?”

Harry’s heart dropped, his palms got sweaty and millions of scenarios raced in his head.

Gemma knew he had heard her, but she wanted an answer, whatever it could be. “Harry?”

“She hates me,” He began, rubbing his hairline in distress as he felt his eyes grow tearful, “I-I can’t see her and see the amount of hate she has for me. It’s already killing me, Gem, I can’t.”

“But she doesn’t,” Gemma said, hearing him sigh in annoyance, “No, you listen to me. You’re feeding yourself bullshit and you’re forcing yourself to believe it. Did she say that? Did she tell you that she hates you?”

“She fucking implied it!” Harry shouted, “She said she regrets falling in love with me, what does that sound like, for fuck’s sake?!”

“Sounds like disappointment to me, Harry!” Gemma exclaimed, growing frustrated with how thick her brother could be. And to be honest, she was getting tired of tiptoeing around the truth – one he needed to hear. “Sounds like she was hurt that the one person she trusted and loved for years decided to tell her one day that she couldn’t fit in his life and he couldn’t fit in hers! Sounds like she was hurt to me, Harry, especially because she didn’t expect you to break up with her, no one did!”

That was the last straw for him. Harry’s tears fell, plopping himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, burying his face in his hand as he cried.

Gemma’s heart broke at the sobs she heard through the phone, but she knew he needed it. “You have been scared to see her, to talk to her since the moment she walked out of that door, Harry, but till when? It’s not doing either of you any good.”

Harry sniffled, “D-Did y-you talk to her? Know anything about her?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly, “She’s not okay.”

Another wave of tears hit him, shaking his head at himself.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He repeated to himself, over and over.

“I’ll pick you up in 10. I was already on my way before calling you.”

Harry gave her no response except for a sniffle.

“Harry?”

He hummed in question.

“I love you, alright? I’ll help you fix this.”

---

Harry wasn’t lying when he said the flower market was all about her.

Without her by his side, it seemed like all flowers lost their beautiful blooming colors, devoid of the saturation. It seemed like his mind loved playing tricks on him so much that it refused to make him smell anything but her scent, even when surrounded by dozens and dozens of petals.

A pair of sunglasses hid his puffy and red eyes, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweat shorts and t-shirt, only put on a pair of socks and jogging shoes.

Gemma was beside him, walking quietly with a pair of her own sunglasses perched on her nose, her arm linked with his.

She dragged him to one vendor, checking the flowers and bouquets before pointing at pretty, blue carnations. “Look at these, they look beautiful, don’t they?” She asked her brother.

“They’re dyed.” Harry had instantly replied, Gemma more surprised by the fact that he talked than by the statement.

“Ah, you know a secret,” The vendor smiled at Harry, “You read a lot?”

“My girlfriend d-“ He paused at his slip, feeling Gemma give him an assuring squeeze on his bicep, “Someone once told me that.”

“Better hold on to them, not everyone is interested enough to learn about stuff like that nowadays.”

Harry felt bitter, like he wanted to tell the man to shut up and ask him if he knew anything about what happened, ask him if he was mocking him, but he knew that that was his mind playing another goddamn trick on him.

He was getting sick of the tricks and the amount of times his mind mocked his state, because when he turned his head away from the man and spotted her, he wanted nothing more than to have a one-on-one fight with his mind.

His jaw dropped, his green eyes widened from beneath his sunglasses, and he felt like he no longer was in an open-air place.

There she stood, in flared jeans, a half-sleeved shirt and eyes hidden beneath a pair of Seven Wonders sunglasses that Gemma had gifted her when she launched her brand. In her hands was one single yellow daffodil, holding it gently and with care, reminding Harry of the days and nights when she would hold him, exactly as a flower.

“Ha-“ Gemma stopped, following his gaze before her eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t say she was very surprised, because she knew how much Sundays at the flower market meant to her friend and brother’s ex.

Gemma also knew it was the first time since the breakup that Y/N visited the place and she couldn’t be any happier for her friend for kicking herself out of the bed and to the one place she enjoyed being at.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the Styles siblings’ fixed gaze on her, carrying herself with grace despite the ache in her heart and the memories that clouded her mind with that one special someone – someone who was standing nearby.

Time seemed to go slow, as if someone had added a slo-mo effect. She had turned, and she was going to miss him if it weren’t for her double taking.

The daffodil almost dropped from her hands, and her knees almost gave out on her.

As if she was pulling the leash on her heart, she turned away quickly before beginning to walk away in big steps, Harry’s heart aching.

“Go!” Gemma urged him, “Fucking go after you, you shit!” She pushed his back.

“I-“ Harry shook his head at his sister, not being able to tear his eyes away from Y/N’s figure as she walked among the crowd, leaning to the side as to not lose sight of her.

“You can, Harry!” She groaned, before tugging on his arm, making him look at her stern face, “It’s now or never, Harry. Your call.”

More often than not, Harry was thankful and grateful for his older sister; like when she took him sightseeing in London for the first time when he was 16 during the boot camp stage of The X-Factor, or when she would help him with his science and English coursework back when he was at school as a kid.

Like that moment, as he ran after his love.

It was easy to spot her. It was easy to run towards her.

Reaching her, Harry gently held her elbow, halting her movement before she turned, and fuck, 

what now?

He expected her to shout at him, tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him but she was quiet, looking up at him as she waited and Harry didn’t know whether he was thankful or despised the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes – was she glaring at him? Was she not?

He opened his mouth before closing it again, slowly removing his hand from her arm, unaware to her longing for his touch.

“Say anything, Harry, dammit.” She almost pleaded, pushing her weight to her right leg and – finally – putting her glasses on top of her head.

Harry definitely wished she kept them on.

Because the moment he saw her puffy eyes, clearly from crying, he wanted nothing but to cry out himself.

As if to assure her though, Harry mirrored her and placed his own on top of his head, letting her see how the eyes she adored so much, the color she decided was her favorite, was hidden beneath the puffiness and red.

“I don’t know what to say, fuck me,” he cringed at himself, reaching up to aggressively rub his eyes with his palms as to calm himself.

But then she gave him that look, that one look she gave him before walking out of the door a month ago – she was disappointed.

She shook her head at him, eyes judging him. “Forget it.” She was about to turn again when he, again, held her, but that time, Harry’s hand reached for hers.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted.

God, what exactly was he sorry for? What exactly was he apologizing for? Kissing her one moment then breaking up with her the other? Not calling her? Standing in front of her and being a coward?

But she had always been patient with him, and as much as her friends advised her against, she was still patient with him that moment.

“I can’t read your mind.” She said gently, stepping closer to him and looking him directly in the eyes, searching them. “Use your words.”

“I can’t do this without you,” Harry’s tone matched hers, staring down at her and stealing a glance at her lips before going back to her eyes, “I was- No, I am a dick. I’m an idiot. It’s taken me too long because I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and,” he shook his head, “But I am. I fucking hate myself for letting you leave, for saying the bullshit I said, for- for disappointing you,” he gulped down the tears that threatened to fall,

“I can’t sleep without you. Can’t eat, can’t function like a normal fucking human without you and I am to blame.”

Y/N listened, eyes getting glossy before she took a breath in, gulping as she tore eye contact before looking back at him, “Would you have said all that if you hadn’t seen me here?”

Harry stared at her a moment.

“Would you have called me? Visited?” One single tear betrayed her and fell, “Because I waited for you, all damn month.”

Before he was even aware, Harry nodded, taking the risk to reach forward and cup her face in his hands, watching as she closed her eyes at the feeling. “I would have.”

“I can’t-” She let out a sob, looking up at him with an almost childish frown, “I can’t afford having my heart broken by you again, Harry, because it fucking sucked.”

His breath hitched in his throat but it didn’t stop him from pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, hiding his face in her hair, his senses waking at the whiff of her shampoo.

“Never again.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 20

Shit goes sideways for y/n and Hannibal as they search for Will. 

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon 

Trigger warnings: stalking, threats of violence, implied threats of sex abuse

Your text notification sound rang over and over. You pulled yourself out of the abyss of sleep, slowly regaining your lucidity. You checked the time. 3:45AM.

The room was dark, a plush blanket was draped over your body, and Hannibal was nowhere to be seen. It was clear he had no intention of waking you up. You resigned to chew him out about that later. For now, you had to attend to what seemed like the thousands of text messages piling up in your notifications. 

But they weren’t text messages. They were comments on all your reddit posts. Dozens of them, all from different burner accounts, and they all said the same thing. 

u/lostlamb928723: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

u/fallenone736139: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

u/ledastray372935: Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

You threw the blanket off your legs, scrolling through the overwhelming mass of biblical spam. You saw the silver lining immediately: Chase wouldn’t be fucking with you if you weren’t close. 

“Hannibal!” You called out, eyes scanning the dark house for any sign of him. He wouldn’t have gone to bed. You let the blood return to your legs before standing up, stretching and searching the house. 

You could hear the beginnings of a storm brewing outside. The ambient pitter-patter of rain was usually a source of comfort, but the abrupt claps of thunder out of nowhere put you on edge. You tiptoed around the massive house, eyes up for anything out of place. 

“Hannibal?” You whispered, peering through the threshold into the kitchen. You hadn’t noticed how scary his kitchen was until then. It was large, cold and uninviting, especially when it was only illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, over and over and over. More of the same, no doubt. 

A hand found your shoulder and you jumped out of your skin. You screamed. It took a second to realize that it was just Hannibal, and not your sleep paralysis demon come to life. 

“It’s just me, darling.” He soothed, putting both hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Fucking hell, Hannibal.” You cursed, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you could have at least answered when I called your name.” 

“I’m sorry.” He stroked your hair, knowing it would soothe your nerves. "I was in the office and I couldn't hear you."

"Why is everything so dark?" You asked.

“The storm knocked out the power about half an hour ago." He explained. The nuances in his voice suggested that this was only one of several inconveniences. "I was hoping it would be back on by the time you woke up.” 

"Damn, just when I thought we were getting close." You muttered, pulling your phone from your back pocket. "Here, take a look at this-"

You unlocked your phone and showed him the mass of notifications.

"Strange." He commented. "How are you getting notifications if the power is out?"

"Huh." You furrowed your brow and looked at your phone. “If the power is out, that means the Wi-Fi is down, right?” 

“Thus the source of my confusion.” He said.  

You opened your phone and saw that you were getting four bars of WiFi. “Then how on earth are all these notifications coming through?” 

“Your cellular, perhaps?” He asked, looking over your shoulder.

You shook your head. The network was just a strand of ten numbers. "No, this is... a hotspot? Is your phone putting out a mobile hotspot?” 

"I'm afraid not." He lowered his head. “Would your phone connect to a hotspot being put out by some random source?” 

“I don’t know, I-- Wait.” You cut yourself off. “Oh no.” 

“What is it?” 

“Hannibal, call Will’s phone.” You said, frantically.

He was compliant, but he could never be comfortable taking orders from someone without knowing why. His motions were slow and he let the silence linger, urging you to fill it with an explanation.

You rubbed your temples. "When I was in Wolf Trap, Will set up a hotspot for me to call my mom. My phone probably recognized it and connected automatically when the power went out."

A distant, but audible rumbling came from just outside the front door. He caught on as soon as the sound hit his ear. A peek out the window confirmed your worst fears. A phone with a shattered screen was laid directly in eyeshot. You could make out Hannibal’s call icon. 

“Shit.” You cursed. “They found us.” 

Like clockwork, your phone began to ring. An unlisted number appeared on the screen. You looked at it, and then back at Hannibal.

"Answer." He said. "Let him think you're alone."

Hesitantly, you slid the green answer icon across the screen and put the caller on speaker. 

“Hello?” You answered, your voice trembling. 

“[F/N] [L/N].” Will’s strained voice croaked from the receiver. “My favorite sinner.” 

You shared a look of relief with Hannibal. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Will, oh my god, you’re alive!” 

“So you believe in god now?” Will said through his teeth. You weren’t talking to Will. You were talking to Chase. Will was just his current in a long line of surrogate bodies he used and disposed of. 

“Chase,” Your voice lowered with severity. “If you hurt him, I swear to shit, I will not hesitate to paint the walls with your insides.” 

“Be careful little ears what you hear, be careful little ears what you hear” Will read off. “For the father up above is looking down in love...” 

“Chase, you sick fuck.” You shouted. “Pull that dick out of your mouth and talk to me yourself.” 

“If you want to talk to me...” Will struggled. “Come here yourself.” 

You looked at Hannibal for any sort of direction. In your silence, Chase continued to make his puppet talk. 

“Since you seem to be having some trouble finding me,” Will said. “The directions are on your boyfriend’s phone. I left it on the porch for you.” 

“Yeah, I found it.” You spat. 

“Next time, don’t leave yourself so vulnerable by posting on public forums.” He said. “Some psycho may have found you before I did. Oh, and [F/N]?”

“What?” You snapped. 

“No cops. No FBI.” Will said, pain in every word.

You just couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell do you want from me?"

“I want to have a conversation about god’s true love.” Will wretched as he spoke. You had a sickening feeling that Will was privy to what that 'conversation' would really entail.

You wanted to vomit. You could picture the look on Chase’s face, flashing his unnaturally white teeth at the idea of finally having you. Doing fuck-knows-what to you. Using Will’s mouth to say it. Tormenting the man you’d come to love. You channeled your disgust into rage. 

“I’ll see you in fucking Borrasca.” You snarled. 

[bakedcrispers]

Show Me How To Love You

seasons 6-7

warnings: implied smut, slight angst, big crossbow man hormones 😔✌

[ gif's not mine! ]

--

Gray smoke danced around the porch of the house as Daryl sat idle on its oak stairs, his eyes snaking aimlessly around the streets as he spiraled deep in his thoughts. He remembers every bit of detail that happened, and he couldn't seem to keep his mind out of it.

It just kept coming back.

His hands travel feverishly along warming glistening flesh, tender skin sliding smoothly among his palms and lips as he took his time in exploring a pulchritudinous figure. His head was fogged and hazed, completely under the spell of the melodic sounds bouncing through the thin walls of the room. He felt full. The buzzing of his chest drummed and pounded throughout his torso the more he bit, leaving purple marks along those lips he adored so damn much.

His mouth dragged and dragged, exhaling through the unforgiving breeze as he tried desperately hard not to shift around his spot. He could feel his body slacking the more he stared, the tiredness gradually getting to him as he sat. God, he was so worn out; yet at the same time, he didn't have the courage to go back in there, lay down, and dream about it again.

He'd go crazy.

Nails scratched his back roughly, piercing up and down at a constant painful pace. He scrutinized every move and bounce, traveling down the deliciously pinned body underneath his figure as he treated you as gently as he could. Hair sprawled, face wet, lips apart and heaving; your euphoria was greatly highlighted under the hues of the moon, and all he could do was gawk at it. Daryl couldn't help but admire it.

"Goddamnit." He could feel his cheeks heating up at the thought, and he couldn't seem to rid it of his brain. It had been preserved exclusively to torment him out his mind later on, and he fucking hates it. "Stupid attractive nurse and her stupid fuckin' smile." Daryl grumbles in vexation, but a part of him knew he didn't exactly mind it - he didn't mind the thought of you being implanted permanently inside his restless brain, residing in his mind rent-free.

Feelings have never been so hard to control.

"Can't sleep?" The tender timbre of your voice abruptly wakes him up from the intrusive images in his head, and almost instantly he sat up straight, his drowsiness disappearing altogether; though, your presence provided not an ounce of aid to his ever-lingering issues.

"I'm a'ight." Daryl grunts his usual reply, avoiding any type of eye-contact towards you. It took everything of his strength not to twist his body to face you fully, nor even look at your face right now. He just couldn't bring himself to talk to you when all he could think of was.. those nights.

And much to his fucking luck, you shuffled your way to him, making yourself comfy on the empty space beside him. "You always say that when you aren't." You snarked, a knowing grin illuminated on your face, staring at him for a little longer than he anticipated as you talked. You already had him read.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

Daryl found himself snorting quietly at your little quip, his dark tresses swaying along as he shook his head in disbelief. He wouldn't trade his thoughts even for a goddamn gold bar. He'd rather die than to expose the explicitness of his head out to you, of all people.

"You can keep yer goddamn penny, I ain't thinkin' o' nothin', sunshine." He didn't mean to snap, but the way his head felt a sudden haziness definitely contributed something to his sudden outburst.

Nonetheless, you didn't budge; instead, you pressed on with much vigor, a light expression on your face as you did so. "Are you thinking of a person?" Your eyes soften, and Daryl didn’t know whether to relax his shoulder at the sight of your face or tense them at your question. 

You wistfully continued, "Like.. you think of them so much that it just starts to be a real problem?"

Exactly his fucking problem.

"Nah. I ain't' ever think of people like tha'." He answers almost too quickly, the lie slipping down a little too smoothly to his absolute horror. Daryl, however, was completely aware of what he was experiencing — completely present on his stupid issues, and he hated that you somehow wriggled your way to be the main root of all his dilemmas. Even so, Daryl was curious.

"Who're ya thinkin' about?" He diverts the topic towards you, trying not to let his discomfort fly into view, even though it’s probably already so obvious.

You chuckle, eyes crinkling at him. "I didn't say I was thinking about someone, Daryl." You lightheartedly taunted, and he fought back the heat that rushed up to his face, caught up with words as he struggled to gather a reply. You got him tongue-tied: again. Before he could retort his defense, you were quick to cut him off, placing a hand on his thigh with a playful shake of your head.

"I was just kidding, Daryl. I was thinking about someone." The soft grin on your lips encourages Daryl to relax beside you, but his heart continues to hammer in harsh beats, surely causing a tinge of pain throughout his chest.

It sure did.

All he could do was vocalize a grunt, wanting you to continue without explicitly voicing his words out of his throat. He felt embarrassed to ask, feeling like he was being pushy about the topic — intruding, even; but fortunately for him, you follow right after, as casual as you were.

"Been thinking about this amazing guy recently."

Daryl's brows unknowingly furrowed, a swirl of discomfort residing inside his stomach. "A guy?"

"Yeah? What? I can't dream of love?" You joke with a face full of blithe, shining almost as bright as the goddamn stars in his perspective.

He snorts a reply, "Nah, ain't sayin' that." The archer then sheepishly shrugged. "Just - just didn't think you'd get worried 'bout som'n like that, 'is'all." He finishes gently, catching your eye for a second before looking back down on the ground, lips pursed and his fingers laced together.

"Really?" You raised your brow at him in an amused manner, another chuckle bubbling out of you as you playfully jabbed his side with your elbow. "Would've never thought you'd take me as a responsible and sensible type, Dixon."

He could only roll his eyes, but his lips quirked up to a tiny grin, his baby blues shining in mirth as your energy radiated even under the cold of the night. "Never said that either."

"But you hinted at it." You sang with a grin, childishly wiggling your brows at him as you swing your legs back and forth. “Ya’ big softie.“

How could he even resist the urge to fucking smile?

You were just so infectious to Daryl, and everything about you was amazing to him — a huge enigma that he wants to explore all over and over again. He’d never get tired of you; he could never.

Sure, there was a part of Daryl that screamed, cursed, and tore apart whoever this guy was that you were dazed over in the jealous corners of his mind, but he refrained himself from doing any physical reaction; for the sake of his dignity and sanity, especially when he’s in front of you.

"Wanna talk about it?" Daryl broke his silence with a quiet exhale, releasing more of the smoke to color the air around him, without much of a care in the world.

You didn't spare him a glance and continued to stare straight ahead, your lips twisting up to a content smile. The archer rose a brow, trying to figure you out, but nothing in his mind was deemed helpful to scan your thoughts; all of them ending up to be a loud meaningless static, one that he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"Ya' deaf or som'n?" He grumbles, impatient, and nervous. It took Daryl some self-control not to practically bite his nails off his hands while you just beamed at him like some damn gorgeous nymph. He felt vulnerable, and he didn't know how to feel about it. He certainly felt attacked though. 

"Not deaf, silly. I’m just surprised you don't know him yet." You finally say, your eyes glowing in mischief as you laughed. "I thought it was pretty obvious. I mean all those nights, those talks, those.." You trailed off, and Daryl almost regretted catching sight of the look that you just gave him, breath stuck in his throat as he watched your tongue swipe across your bottom lip. 

Daryl shivered as he could feel your eyes dangle from his lips down to his exposed neck, drinking every change of pigment along his skin, where all your points were made and proudly done. He could tell by the look on your face that you were seething with pride; but at the same time, you were looking at him so lovingly. Daryl didn’t know what to do, sweating and freezing under your deep scrutiny. “Those… wha’?“ He gulps the courage to return your gaze, almost immediately feeling his throat grow even drier with each second he stared at your adoring hues that maintained strong contact with his.

You huff at him, brows furrowed but your lips were quirked up. “Playing dumb, huh?“ You whistled, gently bumping your shoulders against his, electricity coursing through him as your bare skin clashed with his cold ones. “From how frozen you are right now, I’m guessing you don’t really want me to dive deep into it?“

"It’s a mistake, Y/N.“ Daryl finally takes the courage to speak up, face beet red as he looks at anything but your face. “We didn’t know the hell we’re doin’.” He grumbled, his voice drenched with every ounce of regret and shame he could ever carry from that night alone. He just didn’t think it felt right to him. Those nights were only used to pour those unwanted feelings and emotions out, Daryl thought, It didn’t mean shit.

It shouldn’t.

With shoulders slacked, the archer completely isolates himself away from you in an attempt of just shutting down from the conversation altogether. He never even thought of talking about it with you, thinking you’d just pass over him and forget about it over time; that you’d just drown out his existence after you were done using him as some fucking stress outlet.

Not that he had complaints in the first place.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Daryl.“ You murmured sincerely, your eyes maintaining that soft, adoring look that you’ve reserved for him since the beginning. “At least for me it wasn’t.“ You follow with a wholehearted grin that immediately sent his heart beating and hammering against his searing chest. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me.“

“Ya’ don’ know what yer talkin’ ‘bout, sunshine.“ Daryl scoffed, perilous eyes snapping at you with a mix of disbelief and distrust. “Yer delirious.“ He didn’t want to believe it; he refused to. You deserved more than just some filthy, asshole of a feral redneck in your life. You deserved men like Rick;

A part of him wanted to believe you — to tell you what he really felt, but as always:

He doesn’t know how.

Slightly shaking the hair out of his face, he continues in defeat, "Look, ya’ deserve someone better, Y/N.“ His words were filled with nothing but bitterness, but he knew it was true. “I ain’ tha’ someone, an’—“ He pauses, taking a long drag of his cigarette before fixating his eyes down the ground under him. “I ain’ any better.“

Daryl took a long drag of his smoke before standing up, not entirely wanting to be in this conversation anymore. He didn't want to hear you spew out any more words that would just draw him back in; make him believe that he'd ever had that honor to just call you his for the rest of his life. "You should get some rest, Y/N." He spoke softly, hating to have to shut you down so quickly, but it was for the best. Daryl couldn't bring himself to be with you after all he's been through.

"What's stopping you?"

He doesn't deserve you.

Your words were left hanging around an air of tension, the archer completely still on his track as your soft tone struck him like a rain of bricks. He nervously chewed on his lips, fighting the urge to just blurt everything out to you in one go — to tell you everything racing in his damn head.

"Stopping.. what..?" His voice was quiet and unsure, almost as if he was scared to hear what you were about to say next.

More silence came from your part, and Daryl could hear his heart moving wilder and wilder the more you remained unresponsive to his reply. Nothing but your quiet shuffles rustling through the crisp air of the night was to be heard while Daryl tries to distract himself by fiddling with the tips of his gnawed out fingers. He knew he wanted to settle back with you — be close to you even, but his brain was holding him back from even trying to; afraid that he'd end up as nothing more but a piece of meat.

You were better than that, and he knows, but a tiny part of him was doubtful of your future, and he had every right to be. With winter coming along and scarcity of resources following painfully behind, there were many more things to be worried about than his stupid high school feelings.

"What's stopping you from loving me?"

Daryl pursed his lips into a thin line. This was something that you've also asked him the night before, your bare body pressed against his chest while you snuggled under the late sky. He could barely get any word out to give you a proper answer. But even during times like those, Daryl could never tear his eyes off of you. You were drowsy, tired from the night’s activities, but you never seem to get restless of his scattered thoughts and feelings; you always tried your best to understand and communicate with him, but as always, Daryl remained nonchalant — almost as if he couldn't hear you amongst everything.

He was being unfair.

Eyes squeezed shut, knuckles white, jaws clenched — He's gotta drop and let you know.

"I.. I don' know how to love ya', Y/N." He confessed softly; ashamed that he couldn't give you the love that he wanted you to have — love that only people who weren't broken can give. "I.. I don' know how to love ya' like.. like how Glenn or Rick does." He croaks weakly. "They do it so easy, but I just fuckin'.. can't."

His frustration was evident, yet his head was facing the ground, not wanting to have you catch the longing and bitter look that he had on his stormy blue eyes.

"Daryl." His eyes slowly snaps towards the direction of your voice, lips trembling slightly as your cold palms brushed and settled on his reddened cheeks.

"I didn't follow you everywhere with the hopes of finding the same love that men like Rick or Glenn can give in you. I didn't go out of my way to be your run partner just to seduce you and jump on your lap. I'm with you because you make me happy, and you make me feel loved in the warmest way possible."

He watched your lips effortlessly mouth the words out to him as if you were reciting a ballad specially made only for his ears to reach.

"You don't have to show me or the others that you love me, Dixon, because I already know that you do." Your hold on his face tightens, and so did Daryl's heart as he watched you send a loving smile up at him. "You don't have to hide from me, Daryl. You don't have to be scared about not being able to compete with others because no matter what, you're the only damn thing I see."

It may take some time, but your words truly have impacted him more than he anticipated. There were moments where he'd thoroughly savor and indulge himself on your touch and with your words, letting himself loose within the security of your arms; this was one of those times.

"Damn it, sunshine." He curses quietly, breathless over how something as enchanting as you could ever be real — how even did he manage to capture you in his life?

He builds the courage to meet you in the eye, his heart singing at the sight of your eyes holding adoration only for him. "Hitting me with the cheesy shit again, huh."

Your grin widens, prompting his own smile to stretch along with yours. "Want to know how to love, Dixon?"

Even when his surroundings dim, you continue being a light above all things cynical in his life. You were his guide; an angel sent to him by whatever fate exist in the world. You were surreal, and if he could wish for more of you, he would do so in a heartbeat.

"Show me."

You're the only thing he sees.

--

a/n: OMG?? HI?? ITS BEEN A WHILE?MNDJEJE IM SORRY FOR THE INACTIVITY! schoolwork has been catching up and i have also been sick for the past few days! have this lil oneshot friends 💞💖 all you'll ever see in this blog is longing and yearning so kekeke prepare urself >:D

taglist: @pulplorrd @impala-1979 @twdeadlysins @greginaries @pastanest @thanossexual @taikawho

[ if you want to be added in the taglist, just send an ask baybees 💞! ]

[just-whatever-ig]

Rex's Duvet

clone/clone, implied nsfw, post umbara angst, hurt/comfort

One day there arrives a package on Rex's desk, a fairly big one, that has nice things written all over it, like: You are loved or happy birthday or other things that could be connected to a lifeday. It carries a note written on the same flimsi paper..

Dear Rex,

We heard you still have nobody to bunk with. We don't want you to be alone but we cannot just buy you a bunk partner, instead we threw a little together and bought this for you. It should keep the cold away and help you feel hugged and loved by us from afar. It's almost as good as a pile and it's warm and comfortable and creates a comfortable and soft cocoon around your body, when you sleep. It's absolutely worth all the money in the world.

In dear and genuine love,

FoX, bAcArA, Wolf, cody and BLY

The package holds a "duvet", as it says, a blanket filled with some sort of stuffing material. It's big and super soft ans Rex immediately loves it. And now it's his, and his alone and nobody can take it from him because they gifted it to him. He sees the envious looks of the torrent when he enters the barracks with it and spreads it on his bunk (he's a captain he ain't got his own room only commanders do). He gives the other blanket to Fives and Echo who are very grateful for that little present.

The first night after the Citadel nobody in Torrent is allowed to get sleep. Not that anybody is willingly keeping them awake on purpose, but it is Fives who breaks under grief and loss, curled up in Echo's bunk, restless in his sleep, mumbling and screaming things into the oblivion of nightmares. He is the only one who sleeps that night. And when he wakes up he starts crying uncontrollably. It sounds ugly, he doesn't even try to hide it, and nobody knows what to do. Until Rex finally slips out of his top bunk and quietly to the floor then gathers up his duvet and crosses the room towards his ARC trooper.

"Fives, hey", he whispers, gently touching Fives' shaking shoulder, "I got something for you." He spreads the duvet over the crying mess that Fives is and tucks him in warmly, pressing the covers around him like a protective shell. Fives hand snakes out of their warm confinement and grab at Rex's. "Please stay", he pleads and sobs heartbreakingly loud. For a moment Rex hesitates - it has been a while since he bunked with someone and he's not sure if Fives would actually want that - but then, slowly, he climbs into the bed and wraps his arms around Fives' wrapped up shoulders. He places a small kiss on his burning forehead and buries his fingers in dark locks. "You're not alone, Fiv'ika, I won't go anywhere."

He tucks Fives' head under his chin and holds him close as he cries himself back to sleep. On the bunk next to them lies Tup, eyes wide awake and watches them with a blank expression. He doesn't move, nor blinks, for a moment Rex thought he might be dead. Above Tup lays Hardcase, one arm hanging over the edge of his bunk, he is staring as well, just less creepy, since he actually seems very tired and blinks a lot as though to keep himself awake. When Rex turns he see's Dogma on the top and Jesse on the lower bunk, Jesse doesn't even try to sleep, he is upright and reading on his datapad, not giving them any attention while Dogma has his head laid down on his folded arms ands watches them with a curious expression. Rex doesn't know what exactly to think of it. But reminds himself to ask them later.

When he does they ask if they all need to loose someone close to them to try out the curious blanket at least once. He tells them they were always allowed to ask, they just never did.

And the following nights there id always someone at his bunk looking a him with pleading eyes. Sometimes Rex just hands the blanket over - and feels terribly cold and left alone that night - sometimes he quietly denies to recover from the coldness the past night. And sometimes he just lifts the edge of the blanket and invites them in, soon his bed becomes crowded. There is always someone around to sleep by his side and he is not going to lie, he actually loves that. He feels more accepted within the rows of his men and less lonely and sometimes, before sleep, they even have small conversations and Rex learns a lot about them just by that. Jesse, for example, is a tiny little spoon. He curls up with his back against Rex's chest and draws his arms tight around his waist. He likes it when Rex presses his face into his neck and breathes over his shoulder. Hardcase is a rough bunk partner, he moves rather a lot and he faces Rex, smushing his face into his pecs. He doesn't speak before sleeping. Tup is his absolute favorite. He likes to be the big spoon and he does it magnificently as well hiding Rex in big arms and keeping him safe and warm, he talks quietly, gently rubbing his fingertips over Rex's face to relax his tense muscles, Rex feels himself always a little disappointed when it's someone else. Kix likes to massage his muscles which always leaves Rex a little flustered because, damn, he's got such a touch kink, or he is like a stone, spreads himself ontop of him and immediately falls asleep giving Rex no possibility to goddamn move an inch. But at least he doesn't snore, like Dogma who's actually quite cuddly but loud. Nights with Dogma are heavenly comfortable and awfully sleepless, thus rather productive on his paperwork.

And then there is Fives. Fucking moodboard Fives. Sometimes he's excited and likes to talk Rex into sleep. Sometimes he curls himself around Rex and falls asleep immediately and sometimes he's touchy and even somewhat invading personal space, roaming his hands all over Rex body shamelessly. Rex doesn't mind. He loves the attention and gladly lets Fives fuck him into the mattress without a single protest.

There is hardly ever a time when he is alone in his bed from now on. He doesn't know if it is an arrangement among the troopers themselves but they circle quite perfectly, always 6 troopers in a row, the seventh night he is alone, then there are another 6. This keeps going until it's the first one again.

Thus: at some point Rex knows when to keep oil under his pillow for Kix and Fives, or when to grab himself a datapad to work on for Dogma and Hardcase, or when to meditate before bed to calm himself down for Tup and Jesse, he just wants to cuddle.

There are times when he asks them to change the cycle, when he's in the early nights but gets terribly horny he let's Dogma and Fives switch places on their schedule and instead of doing paperwork fucks his ARC trooper. Or when he desperately needs to wind down he asks for Tup instead of Kix. Or when he needs to get shit done but got bullied into bed he demands for Dogma's presence. It's a quiet agreement they have, and nobody ever dares question the Captain's orders.

24.03.2021 08:01 AM

[cloudytamaki]

so, this is how the summer ends • k.denki

⤷ genre: fluff, angst - quirkless au, everyone’s 21, set in LA

⤷ warnings: mentions of sex/implied sex, mildly suggestive, alcohol

⤷ summary: a casual drunk hookup between two young strangers became something ... more than sex.

a warm breeze blows a curl of hair from your forehead and you exhale, corners of your lips lifting into a small smile. it’s almost the end of august; the leaves on the trees are becoming orange and the warm summer winds are cooling down.

the end of an era, and the start of another.

you subconsciously turn your head and look beside you, almost wishing for someone to be there. he isn’t – the cushion of the porch swing is empty. the small smile slips off your lips and your brows furrow; you close your eyes as if the sight’s painful, turning back to watch the trees and sun.

you can’t help the tingling heat that begins to spread through your nose; the promise of tears yet to come.

your mind drifts back to the start of your summer – june 14.

the neighborhood nightclub music is loud, likely booming throughout the area and annoying the neighbors.

but the old neighbors don’t seem to matter as much as the glass of alcohol in your hands and the prickling heat in the back of your skull. there’s a lazy smile sitting upon your lips as you survey the club, taking sips of your drink every few seconds.

ah — there’s your friend, out twerking on the dance floor, getting cheered on by men who are whooping and waving their fists in the air. you cross your legs, the thought of shaking your ass in front of many men seeming unappealing to you.

“hey! can i get another, please?” a golden blonde stranger is suddenly beside you, left arm on the bar counter, a wide grin on his face as sweat runs down his temples.

the bartender sighs, slides him a filled cup, then goes back to cleaning the other glasses with a towel. the energetic looking guy plops down onto a stool beside you, nice white teeth catching the light.

“hey, why aren’t you out dancing?”

your lips flatten into a thin line as you turn to him, “don’t feel like it. it’s nice sitting over here and watching, though.”

“i guess.” he furrows his eyebrows in thought, lips scrunching a bit, “you come here alone?”

“nope.” you sigh, taking a bigger sip this time. “i had a friend come with me, we’d had a few drinks before she’d gone off to the dance floor.” you tiredly gesture towards the crowd, “so yeah. what about you, where’s your friends? you look like you should be over there partying rather than talking to me.”

“they’re all over the club.” he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “some of them didn’t come, others’re just.. around.”

“that makes sense.” another sip and you turn away from the blinding lights, “parties are fun for me, just not when i’m the center of attention.”

“i get that,” he chuckles, takes a sip of his own drink, “i know a guy exactly like that. 8:30 pm bedtime, 6:30 wake up.”

“are you serious? 8:30? i go to bed around 12.”

“yeah, i know right? he’s super strict on it too, we all make fun of him.”

“damn, that sounds fun.” you exhale before taking a bigger sip, the burn of the alcohol stinging a trail down your throat. “you have a name?”

he laughs at that, running a hand through his golden tufts, “denki kaminari, pleased to meet you, madam.” he jokingly places a kiss against your fingers and you let out a squeal of surprise, laughing as you pull your hands away from him.

“(y/n) (l/n), pleased to meet you too, denki kaminari.” you nod at him, drinking the last of your empty glass.

you both ask the bartender for more, and when you both stumble on your words in fear of interrupting each other, you decide to go against each other in a drinking challenge – five shot glasses filled with the second strongest liquor on the shelf.

you manage to down four glasses, determination the only thing keeping you going at this point; your cheeks are hot from the alcohol, brain fuzzy, surroundings beginning to blur every few seconds.

“y-you good?” denki doesn’t look all that good either. shit, he looks terrible – happy, but terrible nonetheless. five empty glasses are at his side and his golden eyes are focused on you.

“yeah, i’m fine.. round two?” you give him a challenging smile and he pouts, pushing out his lower lip as he asks the clearly tired bartender for more, once again.

you crack your knuckles and take a deep breath, picking up the first shot glass as you look at denki, nodding at the same time. you bring it to your lips and suck all the liquid down, almost feeling its burn in your spine when it goes down your throat.

another shot glass, then another – before you know it, you’re swaying on your feet like an idiot, brain spinning, muscles loose. you glance towards denki and you wonder why you’d let yourselves get so inebriated.

“damn, that was fun!” he’s slurring on his words and you bring a hand to your head, sighing.

“jesus christ, i need to sit down.” you both stagger towards a staircase, not caring about how idiotic you look while doing so.

you’re about to pop the dreaded question—how’re we getting home?—when he speaks instead, tilting his head back with a yawn-sigh.

“i’m horny.”

and that’s when you really notice something about him; his jawline is sharp and young, his lips pink and parted, his skin flushed from the drinks, his golden eyes piercing.

you find yourself saying something you’d never imagined would leave your lips, “i can help with that.”

“really? you?” he turns his head towards you and points to you almost accusingly.

you shrug, “i think it was the drinks, but yeah, me. don’t wanna pass up a good offer.”

he seems to think about it while you take a quick look at your phone. “11:48 pm – you stay horny or not, your choice.”

“okay.” denki does some jazz hands and you roll your eyes, “sure. i think there’s some upstairs rooms over here.” you both stand and turn, ascending up the stairs, deciding to walk into a decent looking room.

“so ...” you stand there awkwardly, surroundings spinning but you manage to look over to denki, who’s equally confused. “you said you were horny.”

“and you said you could fix that.” the both of you are standing there, looking at each other, not fully knowing what to do, so you decide to get the ball rolling.

walking over to him, you begin to plant kisses along his jaw and down his neck. he lets out a small whine when you pull away, but you’re feeling more confident when you look at him again.

“kiss me.”

you almost laugh at your confidence that night; you started off sitting alone with a cup of alcohol, not even planning to get drunk – where the fuck did that even come from?

a cooler breeze hits your skin this time, carrying the scent of nearby cooking. smells like some sort of pie, you guess, rubbing your hands over your thighs in remembrance of that drunken hookup. deciding to go inside, you slide off the porch swing, walking over to the back door, twisting the knob and heading inside.

the elevator comes surprisingly fast when you push the button; stepping in, you punch in the number five and wait as you’re lifted above all the other floors.

you take out your keys and step out of the elevator when it dings, walking down the hall to your door, inserting the keys and walking inside.

it’s cold, as expected.

sighing, you toss your keys onto the counter and open the cabinets, rooting around for some food. you come out with a packaged ramen cup; you open it and fill it up with water, then pop it into the microwave.

you lean against the stove as you wait; two minutes and the microwave beeps, you take out your hot food and grab a spoon, walking over to the kitchen table, switching on a light.

you eat alone, in silence.

“oh shit!” you practically throw yourself out of the twin-sized bed; your bare ass is on the cold floor and you’re frantically gathering as much of the sheet as possible, pulling it against your naked chest.

from the other side of the mattress, there’s a girlish scream and a head of golden blonde hair pops up, amber eyes wide with surprise and panic.

“who are you?” your hand comes up to your forehead to ease the pounding in the back of your head. “wait.” something clicks and some tension leaves your shoulders as you point at him, “aren’t you that kid from last night?”

“i’m 21, thank you very much.” he scoffs in disbelief, “how do you not remember me? you were literally moaning my—”

“okay!” you cut him off quickly, cheeks warming up in embarrassment as your brows furrow, “i ... drank too much.”

“same here.” he stands up, unintentionally putting himself on display, “where are we? i can’t remember going—”

“denki!” you practically scream, shielding your eyes, “please put some damn pants on!”

“sorry.” you hear some movement and rustling before the sound of a zipper, “there. what about you? you’re naked too.”

“i know, give me a minute...” you look around and locate your underwear and jeans. you slip them on, clasping your bra and throwing on your shirt.

you stand up, face to face with denki; his neck is spotted with love bites, his hair tousled, cheeks a light pink. “we.. should probably get going.” you grab your dying phone and check the time, “oh my god, it’s 10:15, i’m late for work.”

“you work on saturdays?” your relax at the question, exhaling in relief.

“no, not on saturdays. i thought it was friday or something.” you laugh but a stab of pain shoots from your head all the way through your body.

“how much did we drink last night?” you turn to the golden blonde, who sighs as he opens the door.

“i have no idea, i was gonna ask you. but we drank something strong.”

“i’m surprised we didn’t puke.” you both walk down the staircase, surprised to find that the club’s empty; pretty sunrays peek through the windows and dust floats in the air around you.

“well, i didn’t, but you did.” denki’s hand is at the back of his neck and he turns away from you in embarrassment, shuddering.

you cringe at what he’s insinuating, closing your eyes for a brief second. “um.. i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” he feels kind of weird asking, “where are you going?”

“well, i was planning on heading to my apartment, which you don’t typically do with a one-night stand, but i guess i can make an exception for you.”

“i’m getting special treatment? i’m flattered.”

you roll your eyes as you open the door, squinting when the sun hits your face, “it’s the least i can do in exchange for the fun last night.”

denki bursts out into laughter, wiping faux tears from his eyes while you stand there, watching him. when his laughs finally slow down and he’s standing upright again, you elbow him in the ribs.

“looks like we’re gonna be walking a few blocks. we’d better hurry before it gets hot.”

“you don’t have a car?”

a glare from you is enough of an answer for him.

you throw the empty cup into the garbage, the spoon into the sink. you walk into your bedroom and water your plants on the windowsill, wishing that night would come fast.

it’s only 6:52 pm, and the sun sets at 7:30. before, time never felt so slow – probably because you had someone to spend it with. 

your lips pull into a frown and you place the green watering can back on the windowsill, huffing out a sigh. when had you gotten so damn lonely?

the second week of knowing denki and you’re holding onto his hand tightly as you walk through the dark field, ignoring his protests of ‘it’s dark!’ and ‘what if there’s wolves out here?!’

“calm down already! look, we’re almost there!” you point ahead and he shrieks.

“but there’s no light! seriously, we’re gonna get eaten by wolves or maybe even hawks!”

“jesus christ, denki. there’s no wolves out here, and hawks can’t grab us.” you aren’t fully sure about the wolves, but it’s just a white lie.. that he doesn’t need to know.

“are you sure?”

you stop, turning to him, looking him directly in the eyes. “come on, have some faith in me.”

denki slowly nods, visibly relaxing. you keep walking; it’s silent for the next few minutes, and eventually you finally come to a stop in an area where you can perfectly see the moon.

“why’d we stop?”

he stands before you, watching curiously as you grab a branch and wink at him.

“just watch.”

slowly, you sweep the branch over the grass, and fireflies rise in the air around you. a faint buzz fills the air as they float around you both; you sit down beside him.

denki’s eyes are half-wide in appreciation, lips parted. he turns his head to you, voice much calmer than it was earlier. “it looks.. magical.”

he was right, it did look quite magical that night. you check the time on your phone, 7:05 pm – just a little longer, you can make it.

placing the phone on your chest, you sigh as you close your eyes, letting your mind wander again.

“uhh, i don’t know about this...” this time you’re the one who’s hesitant to do something with him, worry consuming your mind as you sit on the side wall of the apartment.

“come on, you can do it! just glide.” denki excitedly holds a hand out to you and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth in worry, but you reluctantly nod and grab it.

his hand’s warm and soft when he pulls you up onto your feet, flashing you his all too familiar grin. “you’ll be fine, i’ve got you.”

your skin warms at his words and you decide that rollerskating with him is worth the effort. “okay.. so you just go forwards and gently push off each time?”

“pretty much, look.” he demonstrates proudly, you give him some applause before copying his exact movements, and surprisingly, you don’t fall.

“there you go! okay, come on, i wanna show you somewhere cool i found earlier!” he grabs your hand and skates forward so quickly you panic, unable to do anything else but glide with him.

“oh my god, don’t go so fast! you’re gonna run into a streetpole!”

“no, i won’t, i’ll be fine! come on, i think you’ll like the boba place i found!”

you open your eyes, checking your phone again – 7:32, just in time for the sunset. you get off your bed and start to walk out of your room, but a red gleam catches your eye – you turn to see the red rollerskates you wore with denki.

ignoring the pang in your heart, you grab a jacket and head out of your apartment, locking the door behind you before heading into the elevator.

you’re heading to the highest floor; up there, you’ll be able to get to the roof.

after punching in number eight, you lean against the wall, looking at your hands. a ding alerts you that you’ve arrived; you step out of the elevator and open the door at the end of the hall, walking up the small metal staircase – finally, you’re here.

you don’t make any moves to sit; that’s something new. instead, you stand on the roof, hands in your pockets as you watch the swirling plethora of colors dissolve into darkness in front of you.

“how long have you been living here?” denki shakes his head, droplets of water hitting your skin and you release a small laugh, stepping away from him.

“about four years or so.. it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“yeah, it is. it’s.. always awake, you know?”

“oh yeah,” you chuckle, understanding what he means about the city, “always. there’re cars going at 3 in the morning all the time. so many places are open to eat, it’s nice they cater to people’s late night cravings.”

“true.” he looks up at the leafy branches in thought, “i like citylife. it’s kinda boring if everything’s slow paced and sleepy.”

the rippling lake water catches the sunlight, glittering in the late afternoon sun. the field’s light green and grassy, all flat except for the few lone apple trees that dot its surface.

“sometimes you have to step away from the city to really enjoy nature.” you stand up and grab a red apple off a lower branch, taking a bite and offering it to him.

“they’re sweet, y’know.”

denki gives a huff, “i know what apples taste like.” he bites into the fruit, humming at its taste. he hands it back to you and you take another bite, savoring the fresh, crisp taste.

you sit down beside him, tilting your head back to look up at the different branches above you. your hair’s still damp from the swimming, your skin dewy with droplets of water.

“should we go back in?” you question, looking out towards the lake.

“only if we’re skinny dipping.”

“it’s.. light out. you’re supposed to go in the dark.”

“so?” denki grabs your hand and brings you up, “come on, it’ll be fun!”

you lay back with a sigh, arms crossed behind your head as you stare up at the cloudy night sky, unable to see any constellations due to the clouds and city light.

the moon peeks out from behind the clouds, almost shy to reveal its full light.

a rush of sadness fills your chest and you move your feet, not wanting to remember the particularly painful memory made right here.

“you’ve been silent all night, denki. what’s up with you?” his hand finds yours and gives it a squeeze.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“for not telling you something i should’ve told you sooner.. i’m heading back to japan tomorrow.”

you don’t respond but your heartbeat quickens as you look up at the sky. “why are you going to japan, denki?”

“because.. i live there. i come here every summer from the beginning of june to the end of july with some friends.”

“so you won’t be able to...” your voice fades in realization.

“we can call and text! we both have phones, right?” he’s trying to be cheery.

“it’s not the same,” you say, voice suddenly strained, “you’re.. what, sixteen hours ahead of me? it wouldn’t work, it’d be inconvenient for both of us.”

“here, i have an idea. give me your phone.” he hands you his, which is open to the ‘create a new contact’ page; you do the same, now sitting up.

you type in your phone number and a small note, then hand it back to him.

denki seems quite invested in his typing; it takes him a few good minutes before he’s finished. “don’t open the note ‘til i’m gone, okay?”

it seems you’d never opened it. why not? you take out your phone to open it, reliving your last memory.

“call me, okay?” denki’s grinning again, giving you a tight hug before getting on the plane. you’re wondering why he’s so happy – it’s a facade, of course. smiling always fends off the tears, right?

when he’s about to pull away, he realizes how you’re not letting go, head buried in his neck. “denki, be safe. don’t forget anything on the plane, okay?” your voice is light and you’re trying to joke with him, but he can sense that unsteadiness.

he hugs you tighter, tears forming in his eyes. “i love you.”

a weak sob escapes your lips and the tears start rushing out of your eyes. “i love you too, please be careful.”

you hadn’t spoken to him since that morning – three weeks ago. why hadn’t you stayed in touch?

the note opens and you immediately read it, tears welling up in your eyes.

‘to y/n, the most amazing girl i’ve ever met.. i’ve enjoyed it all, from the most awkward morning of my life to the first time i’ve ever gone up on a roof with someone. it’s been really fun, i’m going to miss this. i get it if you don’t wanna stay in touch; it’s too painful sometimes, you know? but aside from our adventures, i’ve really enjoyed bonding with you as a person. you’re funny, sarcastic, and all around amazing. i love you - see you next summer.’

he was right in his message; it is too painful to stay in touch sometimes. you exit the contacts list, wiping at your eyes and smearing your makeup as you open the messaging app, beginning to type out a message,

hey, i miss you.

taglist // @sobaluvr​ @bbytamaki​ 

[drakesdevils]

That Night, Forever Burned (Rafe/Reader/Sam)

Summary: Rafe has a nightmare.

Masterlist

TW: Blood, drowning, implied s*icide

A/N: Thinking about making a collection of Rafe/Reader/Sam oneshots 🤔

Rafe felt the lick of the heat all around him. A blinding headache, something slick and dark running down the side of his face. His chest and arms burnt with searing pain, each movement cut a little bit deeper, a little bit further. And then there was a crash, the most weight he had ever felt in his entire life, he felt his bones snap and crush. And then there was the water, cold water. Deep and strong enough to pull him and his mind under. He could not scream, there was no sound. Only the water and a paralyzed body floating slowly to the bottom of the cave, he watched from above. Tendrils of darkness leaked from his body as he fell to the cave floor. There was no light. There was no one to save him.

When he hit the floor he was back in that godforsaken ship. Like he had suddenly been pulled back to the mortal world. He was present, but he was not in the room, instead watching as a spectator. You were there, laying next to Sam. Sam had freed himself from the beam, but that sword wound was anything but pretty. Blood pooled around the two of you, the bright red blood made you look almost like a painting. There was a gloss on your eyes reflecting the burning ships and the glittering gold.

“Fuck, baby,” Sam croaked out, trying to pull himself up to crawl over to you. His shirt darkened with crimson red. Water began filling up the ship as he tried his damndest to hold you.

“Hold on, sweetheart, I’m coming.” You were only a few feet away from him, sprawled out, looking up to floating cargo like it were the stars.

He pushed himself up with one arm, feeling searing pain rush through his entire body. He felt light headed, but his body felt heavy. Sam groaned as he crawled to you, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

“Hey, hey, come on, baby. Come on wake up.” Sam shook your body lightly, his eyes not daring to look further to the blood. The water was rising faster and faster.

“Come on. Wake up,” He said firmer, shaking you harder. His head hurt like a bitch.

“Fuck. Hey, hey come on! Wake up! Come on baby, wake up!” He pushed you harder, finally allowing his eyes to look over your body. There was so much blood. It curled around him as the water rose, staining his arms and pants a deep red.

“No, no, you’re not leaving me. I’m not letting that son of a bitch take you from me. You’re not,” He began to choke on his words as he realized what had happened. “You’re not leaving me like this.”

You remained still, your eyes still opened. Lifeless you lay. Almost like a doll. Your hair splayed out as the water continued to rise. And Sam almost cursed himself for thinking you looked beautiful dead.

There would be no more time for tears, the numbness washed over him like the water would in a few short moments. He pulled out his gun.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Sam! Fuck! Wake up, Rafe’s having a nightmare!” You shouted, nearly stirring Rafe from his doom. You held one arm across his chest so he would not thrash.

“What?” Sam asked groggily. Rafe tried to twist and turn in his sleep.

“Help me!” You shouted again.

“Oh shit,” Sam mumbled and propped himself up, immediately pulling Rafe towards him and into his arms. You quickly pressed your chest against Rafe’s back, waiting for him to wake up. He was like a ragdoll sandwiched between you two.

You heard him gasp and then shudder. Rafe pushed you both away from him with force you didn’t know he was capable of. Sam fell off the bed with a thud. “Ow.”

Rafe looked wildly around the room, only seeing you. He looked dazed, like he was still existing in some horrible nightmare.

“Oh my god, what- where is Sam? Oh god please don’t tell me he’s-”

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” Sam replied, pushing himself off the floor and back onto the bed, he hugged Rafe from behind, nuzzling his face into Rafe’s neck.

“What happened, Rafe?” You asked softly, hugging him in front this time. “Where did you go?”

Rafe stayed silent as he tried to calm his breathing. He breathed in and out at the same time as you and Sam, making sure you were both here and alive. Inhale. Exhale. He had to remind himself how to breathe.

“Someplace dark,” Rafe mumbled, you smoothed out his hair that had become messy in his sleep.

“We’re here, baby,” Sam said, his words muffled by Rafe’s skin.

When his breathing slowed, Sam and you both fell back down into the bed, leaving an empty space between.

“Come lay back down, love.” You patted the space softly. Rafe crawled to the edge of the bed and shook his head. He felt his eyes begin to sting. Fuck. He thought. Why was this happening now?

“Just lay with us, you don’t have to sleep,” You whispered to him, feeling helpless at the sight of Rafe wading through the deep waters of his suffering. Rafe tried his damndest to hold back the tears.

“Come back to bed with us,” Sam told him. Rafe remained still and silent. The only noise came from the clock ticking on the wall. 4:28 AM. Far too early for him to be up.

Rafe’s body shook. “I thought you had both died. I thought I killed you,” Rafe said, his voice barely even a whisper, it was strained, like it was the worst sentence he could have ever said in his entire life.

You looked at Sam. “We’re here, sweetheart. We aren’t going anywhere. Not today, not tomorrow,” Sam said, leaning up against the bed frame, you curled into his side, biting your lip. What had Rafe seen?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him, unsure if he wanted space or you to comfort him.

Rafe shook his head, he leaned forward, head faced downwards. He almost scoffed. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Come back to bed, Rafe,” Sam spoke to him, his words like a sweet lullaby.

“I can’t.” Rafe dragged his hand across his face and tried to quell the heaviness attempting to pull him further down.

“Then just lay with us.”

“No,” He said firmly.

“Why?” You asked.

“I thought I killed you. I already told you that.” Rafe took one more shaking breath, exhaling slowly.

“We’re past that, Rafe. It was just a nightmare.” You crawled next to him and leaned against his shoulder. His body still lightly shook. He turned his face away from you, praying you would not see him in such a weak state.

“See, I’m alive,” You said. You pulled Rafe’s hand up to your heartbeat. He felt the deep rumble travel through his hand, he slowly turned to look at your chest. Damn the tears.

“It felt real. I watched you and Sam die on that ship.” Rafe’s eyes were dull as he stared at your chest, he saw the flashes of blood and water and the ring of a gun in his ears.

“We’re here, Rafe. We’re right here with you. Come back to bed,” You repeated. You were worried Rafe would run off to the kitchen, or hide out on the balcony, too scared to face his demons again in the night.

Rafe shook his head again. “You died. I killed you.”

“It was just a dream. I’m right here, I still love you. Sam still loves you. Whatever you saw wasn’t real,” You spoke quietly, looking deeply into Rafe’s hazel eyes, like you could pull the true Rafe out of them and back to you.

“No, I think I’m going to go get some air, or make some coffee, or something,” He trailed off, standing up. You didn’t release his hand.

“Don’t leave us, the bed is still warm,” Sam told him. Rafe looked in between you two.

“You’ll be tired in the morning.”

Rafe slowly nodded, you let go of his hand. You kissed him on the cheek and gently led him back into the bed, waiting for him to get under the blankets first.

Sam draped his arm around Rafe’s chest, you curled into his side.

“I’m going to call Dr. Schultz in the morning, okay?” You mumbled into his side.

“Okay.”

“We don’t want you to have any more nightmares, we want you to get help,” Sam said, his voice already becoming heavier with sleep.

“I know.”

“Goodnight Rafe, I love you.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek once more, hoping his fears would lessen and he could sleep for the rest of the night.

“G’night Rafe.”

“Goodnight.”

•••

[winterscaptain]

faith.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: we start to heal, kids! if there’s interest, i’ll write up the outtakes (wink wink) from this and post it sometime soon. your feedback keeps me going - please tell me what you think! also, if you haven’t already check out the inspo blog for ajf! (here’s the nsfw one, too - but it's definitely 18+ only!)

reality check (part one) | unimaginable (part two)

words: 3.5k warnings: implied sex, language, miscarriage/pregnancy mention

summary: healing is bittersweet.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everything looks fine down here. Since it’s been about four days, your preliminary recovery is finished. The key now is to let your body rest and reset.” Brienne removes her gloves and tosses them in the trash. “You can try again in six weeks, if you want, but no penetrative sex for two full weeks.” She washes her hands and points at you, then Aaron, with wet hands. “I mean it.” 

You share a look with Aaron while Brienne turns around for paper towels. His lips quirk into a wry, almost sheepish, smile.

Turning back to her, you ask, “Is there anything I should look out for or do differently or anything?”

Please tell me there’s something I can control. 

She shakes her head. “You’re doing everything perfectly. Keep an eye out for any heavy bleeding or anything that doesn't feel quite right in the next couple of weeks.” A warm hand lands on your shoulder and another reaches across you for Aaron, who stands and meets her in the middle, capturing her fingers in his palm. “I have faith in you both. I know this one was a little unexpected on all fronts, but if you want to do this for real, I will make sure I’m doing everything in my power to give you all the support and resources I can.” 

Aaron’s brown eyes are soft and grateful under his knit brow. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” 

She snorts and squeezes his hand before letting him go. “Oh, Aaron. I have a feeling you and I will know each other for a long time - Brienne is just fine.”

+++

Aaron slides into bed beside you and wraps you up in his arms. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You lace your fingers between his where his hand rests across your abdomen. “How’re you doin’?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You turn in his arms, and he gathers you to his chest while you throw one leg over his hip and wiggle the other between his thighs. You just want to be as close as possible to soothe the ache in your chest - it’s working. “I’m okay. My bits have stopped screaming at me, so that’s an improvement.” For now, you ignore the fact that he’s avoided your question. Sometimes it's easier to let Aaron think he’s won - for a while, at least. 

“Indeed, it is,” he says through a laugh. “I more so meant the other thing.” 

“What, like my emotional state?”

He shrugs around you. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“I feel like there should be...something to look forward to. There’s still a part of me that’s really excited, but there’s nothing to be excited about.” You shake your head, burrowing further into his chest. “It’s hard to explain.” 

His hand rubs up and down your spine, firm and slow. “Makes perfect sense. I think I’m right there with you.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

You can feel him shake his head and he scoots impossibly closer to you. There can’t be a single inch of skin he isn't touching, or at least that’s what it feels like. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes, things just happen.” 

Your eyes close, exhausted, and you push back the thoughts that have been swirling around in your head for the last three days. 

Yeah, sometimes things just happen. Getting stabbed nine times in your home by a career serial killer? Just happens. Your wife getting murdered by that same serial killer, perhaps? Yeah, that just happens. Or maybe your best friend ‘dying’ and then coming back to life? Sure. 

Maybe a couple massive losses in a couple horrible years just aren’t enough. 

What’s next? 

I’ll take ‘Losing a Kid for 1600, Alex.’

“Hey.” He taps the middle of your back with his hand to get your attention. “I can hear you thinking.” 

You grumble, “Sorry,” and turn over, your back pressed firmly to his chest. 

“We’re okay, sweetheart. We’re fine. Jack is healthy, you’re healthy, I’m healthy. We’re getting married.” You snort, and he laughs. “Alright. We’re getting married...eventually.” That gets a giggle out of you, and he continues. “We’re looking for a house we can actually afford because of our fulfilling and important jobs. We have one fantastic son already.” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re in good shape.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

He pulls you close, nuzzling into your neck and running fingers up your ticklish sides. You squirm and a little peal of laughter leaves you. “I’ve got you on all of those, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, and you know he saw it in the mirrored closet doors on the wall across from you. “If you think I’m going to argue with the youngest AUSA in District history, you’re nuts.” 

A satisfied hum leaves him, and he slips his hand under your shirt, tracing over your skin. “That’s probably a good idea.” Kisses find their way across your shoulders as his hands hike your shirt farther up your body. 

“Aaron,” you whine. “Brienne said no sex.” 

You watch him deliberate in the mirror, making play at deep thought. “...No. She said no penetrative sex, if my memory serves.” His hands wander down to the edge of your underwear and you squirm against him despite yourself. He drops his lips to the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver when he whispers, “And my memory always serves.”

“Damn you.” 

He grins and ducks under the covers, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he settles between your thighs.

+++

The following Monday is your first day back at work, and it’s more than a little difficult to be normal. Aaron had only taken the day after to make sure he was available to drive you to and from Brienne’s office for your procedure, but you’d taken the rest of the week. You’re not sure what Aaron told them - maybe a flu or a stomach bug or maybe you “just needed some personal time” - but you imagined everyone would ask you about it anyways. 

Aaron presses a kiss to your cheek before the elevator opens. You make sure you’re watching when he falls into Hotch Mode as the doors part before you. It’s difficult to hold back your fond smile, but you manage. 

You set your things down at your desk, noting the small purple orchid and note sitting by your desktop. JJ turns in her chair to face you. “Hey! How was your visit with Dean?” 

Oh. That works. Good one, Aaron.

Dean had moved to New York to start with a new brokerage house at the beginning of last summer, and you’d been meaning to get up there to see him. It’s a highly plausible lie. It also helps that Aaron could sell water to a fish. 

Well, he is a lawyer. 

“It was great. Nice to take some time, you know?” You smile at her and you’re sure it doesn’t look quite right when her eyes narrow just a touch. Settling at your desk, you pick up the note addressed to you and open it. 

A flower for my flower :) I know. I’m gross. Sue me. 

(Or don’t...I’ll use my J.D. if you do.)

I love you. - AH

p.s. Don’t worry - I’ll water it when you're away. 

“Conference room in five minutes - Garcia’s got something for us.” Emily strides past you all on the bridge and you grab your tablet. 

Derek offers you a hand and you take it, tucking yourself under his arm as you walk. “What’s the orchid for?”

You shrug, covering how touched you really are by the gesture. “I dunno. I guess we just have a very thoughtful section chief.” 

+++

Inspired by Aaron’s cover story, you give Dean a call when you make it back to the hotel that night after an exhausting day scouting crime scenes that have every indication of a serial killer running rampant through the tiny Maine township.

“Hey babes! How are ya?” His chirp comes singing through the phone, and you find yourself smiling. 

“I’m alright.” 

You can almost hear his eyebrows raise. “Nope. Bullshit. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, if anyone asks, I just got home from visiting with you for the week.” You start to unpack your go bag, hanging up a couple of your nicer work sets and setting up the bathroom the way you like it. 

“What’s Aaron lying about this time?” 

You laugh, but it tapers off quickly. “Well, as it happens, we had a really shit week last week and I had to take some time off.” 

He’s far more solemn when he speaks again, “That sounds like a little more than a ‘I got a flat tire on my way to work and my coffee was cold’ kind of shit week if you actually took time off.” He pauses. “Oh please don’t tell me you broke off the engagement.” 

“Not at all, not at all. Aaron and I are fine, but…” Going back and forth for a moment, you ultimately decide to tell him. Maybe it will get easier if you say it out loud. “I, um. I miscarried last week.” You’re proud of yourself for spitting it out with only a little stumbling, and Dean’s immediate concern brings tears to your eyes. 

“Oh God, honey. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it at all?”

“I mean -” you take a deep breath. “No? I don’t know. I feel really shitty about it and we talked to Aaron’s mom and I know it isn’t my fault, but -” You huff, getting a little frustrated. “It was a girl, Dean. Aaron was so excited.” 

Something creaks in the background, and you know he’s just settled into the ancient armchair in the corner of his studio. “Don’t forget babe, you were excited, too. This isn’t just disappointing for Aaron, as much as you’d like to make everything about him.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s right. “I know, but -”

“No! No buts. This is a loss for both of you, and it's huge. Like, I dunno why people don’t talk about it more. Your kid is your kid is your kid if you wanted them and they didn’t make it. It doesn’t matter if you met her or not - you knew her and she was yours.” 

So, maybe the tears weren’t finished. Dean stops talking for a minute, and you know he can hear you sniffling. 

“Are you going to try again?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour?

“Well, we didn’t really try for this one, but I think we’ve caught the bug. I was planning on talking to Aaron about it a little more when I get home -”

“What’s the case?”

“Maine, probably a serial killer,” you answer promptly, getting right back on track. You’re used to Dean’s quick interruptions. Context is important to him and you’re always happy to provide it. “I don’t think we’re going to try, per se, but I don’t think we’ll be too concerned about being careful either. That way it’s a pleasant surprise instead of something stressful or disappointing, you know?”

“Ah,” he says. “A ‘fuck it and forget it’ approach. I dig it. And we all know Aaron can ‘fuck it’ with the best of them - you’ll have to tell me how the ‘forgetting it’ part goes.”

You laugh despite yourself, wiping at your cheeks. “How do you always manage to make me laugh?”

His laugh sounds from the other side of the phone, and it warms you from your fingers to your toes. You can almost forget its nearly five below zero outside. “What can I say? Laughter is the virtue of the gays.”

Your phone beeps at you, and it’s Aaron. “Hey Beanie, I gotta let you go. Aaron’s beeping in on me.” 

“Go get your tub’a humbus, babe. I’ll talk to you later.”

You switch calls, and raise the phone back to your ear. “Hey, love. What’s goin’ on?”

“I just missed you.” You can hear the sink in the background and you check the clock. 

Ah yes, dishes before bed because someone can’t sleep if there are dishes in the sink. 

“Hi!” Jack shouts from across the kitchen, and it makes you smile. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, my loves! Though, Aaron, I must say -” you stop yourself. “Am I on speaker?” 

There’s a shuffle, and his voice sounds a lot closer when he replies. “Not anymore.” You know he’s smiling. 

You laugh. “I was going to say, it’s a lot easier to abide by our no-contact order when I’m five states away.”

“Don’t remind me.” You can’t see him, but he sounds at least a little pained. “We’ll be almost done with that by the time you get home, which is nice.” 

“Very nice, indeed.” Settling into bed, you pull the covers up to your chin. “I wish you were here with me.” 

You can hear him walk through the house, getting some distance from Jack. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. As nice as your new digs are, Chief Hotchner, sleeping without you when I’m on cases is really rough.” A light laugh leaves you. “I still haven’t gotten used to it.” 

He hums. “Well, I’ll make it worth your while when you get home, how’s that?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you say with a smile. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Get some rest. I love you more.” 

+++

Your first hunch was right - serial killer with a preference for blonde women in their forties. Luckily, those factors alone made for a nice, neat, narrow profile, and you were down to a small pool of suspects within days. 

It’s safe to say your heart isn’t in it. You’re almost relieved when JJ calls you out on the way to the medical examiner’s office.

“What’s going on with you and Aaron?” Her bright blue eyes stay on the road as she speaks, but you know she’s completely tuned into you. “You guys seem...off.” 

“We’re fine - the two of us, I mean.” You’re not sure how much to want to tell her. She isn’t Dean. You have to work with her every day, and as much as she’s your friend, it’s hard to talk about this when she already has a son of her own and another on the way. “There’s just, um, some stuff going on at home.”

She reaches across the console and takes your hand. “Whatever it is,” and she sounds like she knows. “You’re not alone.” 

You look over at her and squeeze her hand. There’s something mournful and heartbreaking about the set of her mouth, and something cold and sympathetic washes over you. “Really?”

She nods. “Ours was a girl.” Her confession is quiet and her eyes never once flicker from the road. 

Your voice is just as quiet, almost a secret. “Ours, too.” 

+++

Aaron’s waiting for you in the bullpen when you land in the afternoon two days later. Without shame, you sail through the glass doors and into his arms. It’s a treat - you never feel like you’re truly home until he’s holding you, and you usually have to wait until you get home. 

Derek teases you both on his way back to his desk, and you flip him off. Everyone’s in high spirits and you’re surprised their good moods have rubbed off on you, as well. 

Emily releases you all early with the promise you’ll have your after action reports into her by tomorrow afternoon. On the way home, you tell Aaron about your conversation with JJ, and he’s so moved by it, you’re almost brought to tears again. 

+++

The next morning, Aaron leaves early for a meeting at headquarters in DC. He kisses you goodbye, and in your half-asleep state you grab his tie and make an attempt to keep him right where he is. 

It doesn’t work, but you’re rewarded with a couple extra seconds of adoration, even with your morning breath. He chuckles against your mouth. 

“I gotta go, baby.” 

You whine incoherently at him, but he dodges your reaching hands and  whispers close to your ear as he brings the covers up over your shoulder. “You have another hour before you need to be up. Sleep. I love you.” Another kiss presses into your temple, and you hear the bedroom door close softly behind him. 

When another hour lapses (during which you dozed, quite thankful he told you to get some more sleep), you rise and get ready to head into the office. Jack’s up and getting dressed in his room while you get started in the kitchen. 

But, of course, there’s no need. Aaron has a breakfast spread ready and covered on the counter, with coffee just finished in the percolator. 

A god among men…

You pull your favorites from the pile, and set aside a few things for Jack. This cut your prep time in half at least, so you’ll have a little more time to eat and get settled before you have to be out the door. 

Assembling breakfast is easy, and you and Jack share space in relative silence. He looks up at you over his eggs and grins. Oh, how you love that boy. 

+++

When you get into the office, JJ’s reading a note, a little white envelope tucked behind it. You’re the first two in the office - a shocker, considering the two children between you, both under the age of ten. 

“What have you got there?”

She looks up and you can tell her eyes are a little misty. “Just a really sweet note someone left on my desk.” Waving it in the air, she asks, “Want to read it?”

You smile, setting your things down. “Only if you want me to.” 

She hands it over, and you take it, immediately recognizing Aaron’s handwriting. 

JJ- 

I wish we didn’t know the same loss, but I’m selfishly glad it’s you. Thank you for taking care of us so well. 

As always, anything for you. Just say the word. 

  AH

 “You know,” JJ says as you hand the note back to her. “He wasn’t like this before you.” 

You snort. “Don’t I know it.” 

“No, I’m serious. Even before you guys got together, you made him better. This -” she holds the note up and flicks it, “never would have happened eight years ago.” 

+++

By the time the next case is solved and everyone comes home, Brienne’s orders have expired. Jack is long asleep and you find Aaron in his office. His head is propped up on his hand, elbow on his desk, as he reads over some esoteric legal decision he’s decided to research as a hobby. 

Like he’s not busy enough. 

In fairness, he did defend his newest activity over dinner a few weeks ago. 

“What else am I supposed to do after Jack’s asleep and you’re out on a case? Watch TV? Go to bed early? No, I’m going to review legal decisions and take notes so I don’t bore you to death when you get home.”

“Aaron, you could never bore me to death.” 

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” 

He looks over his reading glasses, and his eyes light up. “Welcome home.” 

You offer him a warm smile as you cross his office and round his desk. “Hi.” 

Aaron drops his pen and pulls you close by your hips, and you lean on the side of his chair. “How was the case?”

“I would hate to spoil Emily’s report that will inevitably be about three hours late getting to your desk on Tuesday.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “I see.” His hand drops down to the outside of your thigh, and you swing a leg over his chair to straddle him, getting situated on his lap. “You know, I still have work to do.” 

“What? Is this Supreme Court decision more interesting than me?”

He shrugs, leaning forward again and picking up his file. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and you settle against his chest as he continues to read. With a sigh, he says, “You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone who wants something specific.” 

You huff. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I’m getting any in here.” 

“You don’t know that.” His voice is even, almost distracted, but when you shift over him you can tell he’s affected. “Something might surprise you.” 

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

He takes another breath and, just like he’s done so many times before, says, “Sweetheart, I’m not suggesting anything.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @emmasjulixn @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @slickdickwitchbitch @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf  @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @garcia-reid-lovechild @cevanswhre @colbyskoalas @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @katiejuliana @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds

[glassartpeasants]

My Little Pet

 YA’LL THOUGHT YOU WERE GETTING SHIGGY FLUFF?! NOPE!!!!

I just thought of this while i was reading yandere shigaraki things. I’ll get to more requests later but god damn i can’t ignore this insufferable urge.

Yandere Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, yandere shiggy, dark themes, violence, abuse, degradation, suicide, implied noncon, like this has absolutely no happiness

A/N: Warning this shit gets hella dark, this is way darker then the ‘Dead to Me’ fic i wrote awhile ago. Please note that this may trigger some people so please read at your own risk.

~~~

You sat in the room that held you captive as you shivered in fear. Your hands were the only thing that consoled you as you wrap your arms around your self as if to feel the warmth of a hug. Tears streaming down your eyes as your body was sore.

The man know as Tomura Shigaraki had kidnapped you, saying how he was so in love with you. How could you have loved someone you never met? His reasoning made absolutely no sense but you guess in the mind of a villain nothing ever made sense. Of course you thought that it couldn’t get any worse when he had kidnapped you but how wrong you were.

He would punish you for the littlest of things. Didn’t say hi to him? That earned you a slap. Didn’t wear the clothes he wanted you to wear even if he didn’t tell you he wanted you to wear them? No food for you for the rest of the day. Fallen asleep when he didn’t say you could? Beaten to a pulp.

His punishments were cruel and harsh, no remorse in his eyes while doing it. You had begged him to stop on multiple occasions but that only got you beaten harder. So you just took it, no tears no noise. Nothing to get him mad at you for. The worse one was not to long ago when you were brought to death’s door step.

~~~

1 months ago

You hadn’t had a glass of water in two days, your voice so hoarse that it hurt to talk. You sat in the corner of your room, looking like a broken doll rather then a person. You sat there looking at the cold wooden floors underneath you, not bothering to lift your head up when you heard the once locked door open.

“My player 2, how are you today finally learn your lesson on not being a brat?” His voice sent shivers down your body as all you could do was stare at the floor, your throat refusing to say words.

“Aw come on, no need to ignore me, i was just doing whats best for you!” The giddiness in his voice sparked a fire in your soul. Your mind racing, forcing you to see red. The words in your throat came up on what you truly felt about your captor, it was too late to take back what you said. But you didn’t care, dying seemed better then living with this monstrosity.

“WHAT”S BEST FOR ME?! YOU KIDNAPPED ME! NOW YOU THINK I LOVE YOU?! YOU A COMPLETE FUCKING IDIOT TO THINK I’D EVER LIKE YOU! BEATING ME? NOT LETTING ME GET FOOD OR WATER! TAKING ADVANTAGE OF ME?! I WILL NEVER LOVE YOU TOMURA SHIGARAKI!” Your words cut like knives slicing into his skin, before he could do any rational thinking his hand reached out for you but you ducked just in time. You try to run only for your hair to get yanked back and fall head first onto the ground, making you vision grow blurry. 

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as a foot collided with your ribs. You hurried and curled up into a fetal position on to have another kick to your spine, you screamed out in pain as more kicks landed on your ribs and stomach.

Tears no falling from your eyes as you felt a sharp pain in your nose, blood rushing down your face as you heard the sickening crack. Your hands rushed to cover up you face as the blows kept landing.

A hand grabs a fistful of hair before another grabs your hand as you let out another scream of agonizing pain, another crack pained your skin but this time it wasn’t a broken bone.

Shigaraki looked at your arm seeing his quirk eat at your skin slowly but surely crawling up your arm. He throws your head down to the ground before rushing over to your decaying arm. Your screaming only caused more pain to your throat. You looked down only to see Shigaraki take out a knife from his pocket.

Your screams no longer heard as you started to gag on the bile and blood arising in your throat. Your hand no longer existed as Shigaraki frantically severed your arm just below the elbow. Enough to stop the decay. But it wasn’t enough to stop the blood loss.

Your eyes soon grew heavy as your skin grew ever so pale. Life slowly fading from your eyes as the whole room grew blurry. You shut your eyes only hearing screaming coming from a frantic voice, four fingers grabbing each of your shoulders as they shook you back in forth screaming at you to ‘stop faking it.’

Your mind went black after that.

~~~

Present

After your voice was permanently damaged from what happened that day, Shigaraki had given you water everyday. No matter how much he deemed ‘you don’t deserve it’.

You had no idea what he was trying to do, did he truly think the water was going to bring back your voice? New flash for him, it wasn’t. Now thanks to him you hand no left arm, no voice and no reason to live. It was hard to think about how you life turned to this.

You, a once lively and bubbly person with a great outlook on life no dreaded each passing day. Your eyes once full of life now rendered lifeless as if someone didn’t see you breathing they probably would have believed you were dead.

“Player 2?” The sound of a cracked voice entered your ears. Bile erupted in your throat at the thought of seeing him again. You were entirely repulsed by him. He was only putting on this sad facade to get your sympathy. That’s what he always did. No matter how many times he said he was sorry you knew better then to believe him. No matter how much he cried and begged for you to talk to him or to just look at him, you still never gave in.

You heard the creaky door open as a pair of red shoes came in your eye sight. Sniffing was the next thing you heard as a thud fell to the floor. you wanted to see what it was but your eyes could only stare at the piece of glass across the room.

“Please my player 2, talk to me, look at me.....please...” His voice rang in your ears, if you were naive you would have thought that he was actually sorry. Your eyes refused to look at him, missing the broken look in his eyes.

Shigaraki sobbed onto the floor his tears making a puddle for him to see he reflection. He hated what he saw, a little boy who’s hurt another person he loved. Images flashed through his head, his father. Oh god his father. What would his mother think if she saw him like this?

He looked at you as his sobbing became uncontrollable. He looked at you no longer seeing the person he fell in love with, only seeing an empty shell of a human. But no matter how much he tried to convey his feelings of guilt for what he’s done to you, it always turns into anger. Which is exactly what happened everytime.

“Stupid bitch just look at me! I give you everything you could ever what and you ignore me?! Your a good for nothing cock slut who’s only purpose is to satisfy me!” Shigaraki turned around and slammed the door behind him. He walked away angrily before realizing his mistake. He clenched his fists together. He turned around quickly the try and apologize but Kurogiri had snagged him away before he could.

~~~

As you heard Shigaraki’s footsteps fade away you quickly crawl over to the broken shard of glass, a tiny shimmer of light hit it making it shine. A smile quickly washed over your face before tears of happiness left your eyes as you slowly brought the sharp glass to your chest.

~~~

After about an hour of being lectured by Kurogiri, Shigaraki was set free and the first thing he did was go to check up on you.

He took a deep breath before opening the door, his head peeking out to find you only to have his heart shatter as he found you in a different corner of the room, blood pooling around your body.

He raced over towards your body laying you gently on the ground as he tried to figure out what was wrong. His eyes trailed to a shinny piece of glass, covered in a deep red. 

His head snapped back to you looking up and down and saw your shirt was covered in the red liquid. His hands grab at your shirt decaying it to try and find where the wound was only to be presented with a heart stopping conclusion.

You had stabbed yourself in the chest.

“No no no, please stop god damnit!” Shigaraki’s hands covered the wound over your chest refusing to believe you had done this. His hands slither up to your neck trying to find a pulse, anything that proved you were alive.

He found nothing.

“No...” His arms slither around your waist bringing your lifeless body closer to him, your face close to his as tears formed in his eyes. His arms were shaking as your blood stained his shirt. His eyes focused on your pale face.

“Please don’t leave me...I promise I’ll be better..” He whispered as he put his forehead on yours, tears falling from his eyes only to land on your cheeks. He prayed for your answer, to hear your angelic voice once more, the silence was suffocating Shigaraki alive as the pressure in his heart felt like he was going to explode.

He looked at your face your eyelashes collecting his tears as he pressed his lips to your cold ones. Your warm lips are all but a fading memory as the image of you now burned into his skull and would for as long as he lived.

His arms pulled you closer as your body was ice cold. He took one good look at you which only caused his heart to break further.

Bruised and broken was the best way he could describe it. Bruises from his tantrums cover your body as he looks at your left arm. 

He let out a scream of undeniable pain as he felt his world stop. You were the only things that kept him sane. His only sort of light in this cold world. 

And now you were gone.

[sadistgalore]

Chapter 12: Burn Together, Friends Forever

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Taglist: @elliei-m

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist.

CW: Heavy dehumanization, pet whump, torture, burning, branding, conditioned whumpee, slapping, verbal abuse, kicking, referenced whump of a minor (nonsexual), implied starvation, Luther is his own warning, boils, impalement, left outside in the cold, implied noncon

Harper’s stomach dropped as soon as she heard the bastard’s voice, and heard a hard whimper behind her.

“Naughty, naughty girl, Harper. I don’t think your master would approve.”

Harper huffed. “You lied. You said you had a dog, not a human!”

Luther glared. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference? You people are fucking impossible!”

“I would watch your attitude, kitty. You’re just making this worse for yourself.”

“H-Ha-Harper,” said a voice behind her. The girl turned around, seeing Killian look up with tears in his eyes, trembling. “D-D-Don’t m-m-make h-“

“Doggy.” A voice cut him off. “That sounds an awful like talking to me.”

Killian lowered back down. Harper noticed this, and her police instincts kicked in once again. “Stop talking to him like that. You’re mad? Then take your anger out at me, you’ve hurt him enough.”

Luther smirked. “Fine, kitty. Come here.”

Harper looked once more to the shaking boy, then followed the orders given. Luther went across the room, looking towards the wall lined with Dark’s torture devices. He finally picked a long metal cord with a wire attached to it, and plugged said wire into the wall.

“I don’t know why Edward insisted on picking a defiant one like you, there’s so many other trained pets with black hair he can just buy for a few hundred bucks,” he muttered, beginning to loop the cord around her right arm.

“Sorry that me trying to preserve my dignity is a problem for you,” she spat.

Luther chuckled, hand moving to a button attached to the cord. “We’ll see about that,” he finished as he pushed the button.

At first, Harper didn’t feel anything, but soon felt a warm sensation after thirty seconds or so. That sensation only kept growing into a burning pain. She gasped, soon realizing what Luther was intending to do, and began trying to pull it off.

Luther grabbed her hand, “Bad kitty. You better stay still unless you want Doggy to have this looped around his throat.”

Harper looked up, eyes beginning to form tears, and put her hand down. She soon screamed as the heat only increased, the hot metal burning into her arm.

“Ruff!”

“No, doggy. Your punishment is later.” Luther said without even looking up, admiring the smoke coming from the kitty’s arm.

“S-stop, please! I’m begging you!” Harper screamed, beginning to grow nauseous as she smelt more and more of her burnt flesh.

“Just another minute,” Luther hummed, causing Harper to yell in frustration.

That minute felt like hours, during which the pain became too unbearable and she fell to the floor. She writhed on the ground, other hand burning as she tried to pry the clip off to no avail. Luther bent down, ignoring her defiance, and pushed the button on the wire.

“Such a crybaby,” he said as he walked towards his shackled dog.

Killian began whimpering loudly, crying out as Luther began to unshackle his wrists.

“You’re a very bad doggy, you know that?” Luther said as he cupped his face, feeling the tears streaming down his pet’s eyes. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

“B-bark-“ Slap.

“Stupid mutt. Use your words.”

“I-I’ll,” Killian started, not quite sure how exactly he was going to make it up to his captor. “I’ll be a b-bet-ter dog-“ Slap.

“Well you’re pretty fucking terrible at that, aren’t you?!” The man yelled, making Killian flinch back. “Answer me! Aren’t you a bad dog?”

“Yes sir-“ Instead of a slap, Luther punched Killian hard in the face. He got up, beginning to kick him to each word he spoke. “Stupid. Fucking. Dog! Why are you using your words?!”

“I don’t know what you want from me!” The young man screamed, Luther seeing a defiance in his eyes that he hadn’t seen since he was 17. Killian soon snapped back to reality, cringing at the cruel smile of his captor.

“No, no, I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t- ruff! Ruff, ruff, bark, woof!-“

Luther grabbed his hair and began to drag him upstairs. He stopped as he passed the girl on the floor, the coil around her arm now turning into a dull red instead of the fiery orange. “I’ll be back kitty. Once I’m back, I expect you to have dinner prepared for me only. Neither you or the doggy are getting food for a while.”

He didn’t stop to hear the choked gasps of the kitty as he walked upstairs, ripping the poor boy’s scalp as he continued to be dragged. Once they reached the kitchen, Luther threw the dog on the ground and stepped on his neck to prevent him from escaping.

The man grabbed a pot and filled it with water, setting the gas stove burner to high as he waited for it to boil. The boy was crying openly, not bothering to whimper or whine as he saw the rare aggression in his captor’s face.

“Oh, Killian,” Luther sighed as he leaned against the counter, foot still pressing on the dog’s neck. “You were doing so well, I thought I finally broke you.” Killian’s cries filled the room. “Still, you’re too incompetent to follow the rules.”

After a few minutes of more sobbing and the man’s silence, the water finally stopped boiling.

“You need to learn, pup,” Luther said as he grabbed the pot handle with a towel. “The only one who can give anything in this world,” he dumped the pot on the boy, ears straining at the blood-curdling scream that came with it.

“Is me.”

____________

“Wonderful dinner, kitty,” Luther complimented as he finished the last few bites of his steak.

The girl said nothing, completely exhausted from trying to ignore the unbearable pain on her arm and using what little energy she had to cook a meal for the bastard.

She can’t imagine what Killian must be going through, though.

The said boy was still on the kitchen floor, screams long since stopped and have resorted to painful crying. His face was an angry red, only a few boils on his face since he covered most of the splash with his arms. But those were scaly and irritated, raw skin being exposed. Harper had mentioned giving him some medicine, but one angry look from Luther was enough to shut her up.

Luther stood up from the table, and snapped his fingers. Harper moved hesitantly towards him, Killian didn’t. “Your punishment isn’t over. Since you two want to bond so much, you can bond in the cold outside. And no meals for three days. Clear?”

Harper nodded, dreading the thought of being chained up outside into the freezing cold.

Luther gripped her chin. “I said, are we clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Luther said nothing as he walked towards a drawer, pulling out chains that had very thick cuffs attached to the ends. He tightly gripped her burned out, smiling as she screamed in pain. He dragged her outside and pushed her to the ground outside the porch, connecting the cuff to her ankle and linking it to the wall. He left, and came out with Killian who was also crying out in pain. He did the same procedure with him, and then flipped a switch on each of their ankle cuffs.

Harper flinched as she felt spikes just grazing her skin, regretting that as they seemed to break contact and draw blood.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Luther smirked, seeing the girl’s face in pain. They are spikes embedded into those cuffs; the more you struggle, the more they get into your skin. So you don’t try to run away, of course.”

Harper resisted the urge to roll her eyes and looked towards Killian, who was now crying again.

“I hope you learned your lesson today, kitty. I’ll be sure to tell Edward about this.”

“You branded my fucking arm,” Harper growled. “Dark said not to scar me.”

Luther gave the girl a cold glare. “You’re gonna learn, like all of his other pets did, that I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want with you despite if your master likes it or not. I’m sure you’ll see that in the nights we’re going to spend together, kitty.”

With that, the man walked back inside, content that his new playthings wouldn’t try running away.

Harper tested Luther’s claims by doing little movements with her ankle, but the spikes only dug into her skin more.

“Shit,” she whispered as she slumped against the porch behind her. “We’re gonna be impaled even if we moved an inch.”

Killian whimpered, but remained still as he curled up against the porch wall. Harper looked over to him, seeing spike-like scars on his wrists and ankles. “This isn’t the first time he put these damn cuffs on you, isn’t it?”

The boy shook his head.

Harper looked at him with a sorrowful look; she spent mere hours with this man, how long had Killian been with him? “Hey, we’re gonna be okay, alright?” Harper started, gently placing her arm on his non burnt shoulder. “I’m a police detective for Washington, D.C. My friend has been investigating this group for years, a rescue will come for me soon.” She said it more to herself than to Killian. “I promise.”

Killian listened to her words, but couldn’t get himself to believe her. He might have been a street rat, but he’s been missing for seven years. He’s met other pets like her, with reputations and hopes of being rescued. But he’s also met other masters, ones that have too good of a reputation to ever be met with repercussions for what they’ve done to their pets, like Luther.

But Harper was nice, nicer than most people he’s met in almost a decade of hell. Maybe the cycle will change. Maybe his torment will finally end.

He looked up at her, and smiled, and was met with a warm smile back. He nuzzled into her, and closed his eyes when he felt her arm wrapping around his back and running it gently. Together, they could try their best to remain warm.

Harper rested her head on Killian’s, and yawned as she prepared for an uncomfortable and cold night of sleep. “One day, Kill-”

Killian groaned. Harper chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I like giving people nicknames. ‘Kill’s’ not a good one?”

The boy shook his head, Harper thought some more.

“How about Ian?” She got a head nod in affirmation.

“Okay, Ian, one day we’ll get out of here together. From now on, I’m gonna do whatever I can to protect you, alright?”

There was silence for a moment, just their steady breaths filling the space, then a very silent,

“Alright.”

[reelwriter19]

Lights Out

Pairings: Erik Stevens X Black Reader 

Warnings: ANGST, Fluff, implied smut

Word Count: 2200

“Shit!!!” Erik yelled accompanied by a loud thud so jarring it woke you out of the first sleep you were getting in days.

You replied in a pleading, groggy whisper. “E please! You’re gonna wake the baby. What the hell are you doing anyway?”

“The power went out…and he’s already up.”

You heard your sons faint cry on the monitor and rose from your favorite armchair in the living room like a zombie to go feed, burp, change, cuddle…whichever of the nine things, if not all, that he required at this ungodly hour. You chose to nap here because Erik was PMS’ing…again. You knew raising a child with this stubborn ass man wouldn’t be easy, but lately Erik was on another level of pissing you off. His latest complaint was the fact that you babied Bakari too much.

“But he’s 4 months old E!” ...you exclaimed. He thought he should already be sleeping on his own.

You argued that you’re still breastfeeding and it’s a trek to get to him in the middle of the night. “Are you gonna start producing something more than keloids and muscles out of that chest for him instead?!”

You knew there was a root cause to Erik’s frustration, but you also knew that he needed time to express his feelings. Extra time that you didn’t have to give right now. So, for the third night in a row, he went to bed angry, while you took care of Bakari in his nursery and attempted to find peace in your comfy chair in between.

Brushing passed your husband without so much as a glance, you walk towards the hallway.

“I did that already.”

“You fed him?”

“Yeah..”

“And changed his…”

“Yes Y/N…that’s what I’m sayin, damn.

Bakari’s cries got louder by the minute.

“E…I’m exhausted. Don’t come at me with this attitude tonight ok?! I’m not beat for your shit right now.”

You make your way into your sons’ nursery and gently lift him from his crib. He’s beyond fussy but won’t latch on…not hungry. His diaper is dry…wow, Erik actually did that too. Bouncing Bakari lightly as you pace the room, you start to hum a melody hoping this will work.

“He’s hot…” Erik appeared at the door. “He’s pissed cuz there’s no air circulating. I opened the window, thought the rain would calm him down but clearly. Come on, let’s go…”

You look down to see three bags at Erik’s feet, one being an expertly packed diaper bag.

“Go where E? It’s a whole storm outside. And it’s 3AM.”

“The rain let up and it’s not windy anymore. Don’t you trust me?” You scoffed…

“Just come on girl.”

The three of you piled into Erik’s huge truck. He held the door as you secured Bakari in, choosing to sit next to him in the backseat just in case he started screaming again. Movement always helped when he was this antsy, but you were way too tired to do your usual laps around the loft to get him to sleep this time.

Erik slammed the driver’s side door, which of course scared the baby, making him scream yet again. You shot him a cold look in the rearview mirror.

“My bad.”

Addressing your son in baby talk…

“It’s okay my love…don’t cry. Daddy’s trying to take your place this week. Did he steal some of your diaper’s tonight Bakari? Is that the real reason why he was in your room?? You can tell mama…”

Erik just shook his head. Your teasing, the AC blasting and the sound of the open road actually did the trick. Bakari went from sobbing to giggling to REM sleep in no time. You didn’t bother asking Erik where you were going because, let’s be honest, you knew he wasn’t going to tell you anyway, so you decided to knock out also.

2 hours later

Erik hopped out of the truck and took the bags in to the house. He then gently took his son out of his seat before waking you up.

“Y/N…babe we’re here.”

“Are we back home?”

“Well, home for a few days yeah.”

You reluctantly took Erik’s hand as he helped you out of the car. One quick but GOOD nap wasn’t going to make you suddenly forget that you were mad at him.

“Did you remember to bring…”

“Your pump? I got everything Y/N. And whatever I didn’t pack is available here.”

Erik led you into a BEAUTIFUL beach house. Still holding Bakari, he smirked at your reaction to this surprise. Kissing you on your temple, thoroughly amused at your shocked expression…

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go put him down.”

You couldn’t even answer. Mesmerized by the sound of the waves crashing, you walked towards the back of the open concept house in awe. The infinity pool overlooked a beautiful pre-dawn sky and the smell of fresh air hitting your nostrils was intoxicating. Truth be told, you wanted Erik to rip your clothes off and take you right here on this patio, but you needed to suppress that urge for the time being.

He walked up behind you, slowly placing his arms around your waist. It had been days since he touched you, his unexplained mood keeping you both in your individual corners of the boxing ring that had become your home. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to lean into him. He traced a line from your ear lobe to your shoulder with his lips. You were a goner.

“Baby…who’s house is this?”

“It’s ours.”

You turned to face him. Erik had a sly grin on his face, a sight you also hadn’t seen in a very long time. Playfully hitting his chest… “Erik stop playin’. Did you steal this house? Are the owners on vacation and coming back in the morning? What’s the deal? Should I go grab Bakari now or…?” Erik caught your hand as you pretended to walk away. He had to admit that he missed this side of you too.  

“It’s kind of an inheritance thing. T’s dumbass was gonna get rid of it. Talkin’ bout some…’N’Jadaka, I live in Wakanda, why on earth do I need a house by this polluted Californian ocean?’”

You were laughing hysterically at this point. You loved when Erik impersonated T’Challa’s accent…he was SO BAD at it. You were softening up again, dammit this man was good at getting you to let your guard down. You moved closer to him, hands on his shoulders as he bit his bottom lip….he knew that made you weak too. His hands were now roaming your hips and cheeks.

“Oh really…that’s what he said huh?”

“Yep, just like that. So, I told him, T, don’t you dare get rid of this house. It’s a family keepsake, you know. My badass wife and beautiful son deserve this house T. So here we are.”

“Here we are….”

His lips finally overtook yours. All concern for previous arguments melted away as Erik lifted your legs around his waist and carried you to a lounge chair. He then ripped your clothes off and had his way with you. Filling you almost immediately, the sound of the crashing waves was no match for the moans you released finally feeling his touch again.

A little later…

You walked back out towards the pool wrapped in a blanket to rejoin Erik who was still sprawled, bare chest and as sexy as ever on the chaise lounge. The sun had just started to rise, and you couldn’t be more grateful for this moment with your man.

Nestling back into his side, Erik’s hands found their way back to some of his favorite spots on your body.

“Is he ok?”

“Yeah, I fed him, and he went right back to sleep. I think he loves it here too.”

“Y/N, I owe you an apology.” You stayed silent, this was rare, and you didn’t want any sudden movements to make him change his mind. Erik wasn’t big on words or explanations. He covered you and Bakari like no one else could. You felt protected and loved beyond measure, but there was something about having a child that opened up a new well in Erik’s heart. You fell more and more in love with him in these last few months, which was why the difference in his recent behavior had caught you so off guard.

You sat up slightly to face him, encouraging him to continue.

“I started having dreams about my pops. At first, they were nice, we’d be chillin at the playground when I was a kid or on the courts playin’ ball. He’d be laughing with me, pushing me on a swing. I’d smile cuz I’d think about those times that I’d have with B…then the dreams got dark. My mother would appear, her eyes real dark, black…and she’d end up killing me or my father in one of the dreams. Every time she’d laugh about it and I couldn’t do anything but watch. I was stuck in the corner of the room, in that same blue hoodie I was wearing when I found my dad. She’d walk over and whisper shit like, ‘you’ll never have what we had’, ‘you can never be free’. And then I’d pop up.”

By the time he finished there were tears streaming down both of your faces. You kissed his away and held him close.

“Erik, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I wanted to; I just didn’t want to scare you. The first time it happened it was really late, and you were in the other room singing to Bakari. The two of you were so peaceful…so I just listened to your voice with him and that calmed me down. I had another one a few days ago. She was in our room, standing over B’s rocker, just staring at him with those dark eyes. Then she looked over at you sleeping with your hand on him. I was stuck to the damn bed, couldn’t move. That shit was so real Y/N”

“That’s why you didn’t want him in the room.”

“Yeah…I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to do. That seemed like the most immediate solve at the time.”

You readjusted to straddle Erik’s lap. Your love language was touch and luckily you knew Erik found peace the closer you were to him. You felt his heart beating as you retraced the scars on his chest. You steadied your hand there for a minute as he continued.

“T noticed something was off with me…”, finishing the sentence in unison…

“…because he’s T.” You both laughed. You were so grateful for his family and the second chance he had been given with them, in these very moments especially.

“Anyway, his nosy ass told my auntie about the dreams, but she really helped. She reminded me that my parents really did love me, even my mother. And that the dreams were just traces of my old life of violence refusing to die. I guess because…”

“Because you don’t think you deserve this joy…a chance at real peace?”

“Yeah…” He tried to break his gaze from your loving eyes, but you wouldn’t allow it. You held his face and kissed him softly. You moved slowly, hoping that the connection of your lips to his would somehow reassure him of who he was…recharging him in some way.

“Erik Stevens. N’Jadaka. You are my king. I loved you before I knew about your past, I loved you after I found out all of the secrets you tried to hide and since you’ve made me a mother to our gift, I’ve managed to love you even more. I feel safe, adored and beautiful when I’m with you, baby. And you know what, that little boy back there already loves and adores you too. You can calm him down in minutes…you already make him laugh. I know this hasn’t been easy, but you’ve earned this happiness. Life isn’t perfect, babe. But all of that darkness is behind us now. Let me be here for you too. We have a very bright future ahead, but I need you present and here with us to enjoy it…all of you.”

“I gotchu princess. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Erik suddenly had a mischievous look in his eyes. You jumped up because you knew him all too well, but not fast enough. He started tickling you and laughing like a lunatic.

“Erik, stop! Your behind goes from 0 to a thousand in seconds!”

He pauses for a minute, getting close to your ear.

“Let’s make another baby.”

You laugh even louder now at this ridiculous notion and try to escape his arms.

“Uh huh! This birth control stays IN Mr. Stevens! Too soon…WAY too soon. I don’t love you that much.”

He chased you inside and into the bedroom. Hovering over you on this perfect king-sized bed, ready to pounce. There was no way you’d be willing to have another baby this soon, but there was absolutely no harm in practicing the latest techniques with this gorgeous man you cherished while Bakari finally slept peacefully in the other room.

[books-and-dragons]

pegoryu (pre-established) post-interrogation hurt/comfort fic. has mentions of nightmares, trauma, and implied physical assault. unedited and for that i big apologise in advance

___________

okay!!! so this fic has been sitting in my drafts for months (lol what else is knew i know, shush i’m getting to the point) and i was supposed to post it on ao3 at the same time as i did a couple of others, however never got around to it bc it needed editing and im too lazy for that

likelihood is, i will edit and post to ao3 at some point, but it needs some BIG rennovations and i just can’t be arsed atm

so yeah, apologies for the shoddy writing in advance xoxo

but for now, i wanted to post it on here. today. as a sign of goodwill for the year to come. (ie. i own p5r, still havent played it, need to play it, and hope posting this will kick me into gear)

so, hope you enjoy!! and lmao if not it’ll just get buried as i start to revive this blog so,...win win?

In the first few nights since the interrogation, Ryuji stayed awake, listening to the fragile shudders of Akira’s breath in the night. So sensitive to every breath of air restricted by broken ribs, Ryuji hadn’t needed to look across the room, to gaze at the beaten figure on the bed, to know how his face was contorted in pain- unmasked in sleep.

He refused to so much as close his eyes until Akira’s breathing levelled out, still shuddering and restricted by pain, but deep enough to assure him that Akira was asleep. Only then, Ryuji allowed himself to rest.

Nobody else stayed the night. They lingered until the last train, crowded around the attic bedroom, gaze worriedly resting on Akira until the final second, where they’d leave with the accompanying chime of Leblanc’s door closing. But not Ryuji.

Ryuji, who had refused to leave Akira’s side since the moment he’d returned to their arms, beaten and drugged up, hardly coherent, but so relievingly and perfectly alive.

Akira hadn’t been alone since, Ryuji ensured that much. Torn over so much as going across the road for a bath, he couldn’t leave the other boy alone- something pulled at him to never let that happen, a pit of fear in the bottom of his stomach that pulled at his every nerve.

Maybe it had something to do with the nightmares, the visions of Akira lying broken on cold tile, at the mercilessly unrelenting hands of the police, the images of Akira lying dead, blood pooling from his head, the way the images seemed to haunt him even when awake- but there was no point reading into it. It wasn’t important, especially not now.

What mattered was that when he woke up, breath haggard and skin shining with sweat under the light of outdoor streetlamps, Akira never woke. Wasn’t even perturbed. 

Ryuji tried to be thankful for it, tried not to think about why Akira was suddenly such a deep sleeper. Ignored the puncture wounds on his neck, the bottle of painkillers by his bedside. Akira was resting, and that was enough.

Even if it didn’t make sense that, when morning rose, the dark circles under Akira’s eyes had grown. That he tried to muffle pained yawns behind bandaged hands, and begged for more coffee- even though Takemi had put him on a temporary ban.

Because Ryuji had seen him sleeping, watched the rise and fall of his chest as Ryuji reminded himself that Akira was alive and safe, it was the sight that lulled him back to sleep from a nightmare. So why did Akira always look so tired?

He tried not to let his growing concern show, there was already so much to be worried about, he didn’t want to add another. Especially not when it could be nothing but his own annoying thoughts.

It wasn’t until the next night, after a particularly painful and thorough visit from Takemi earlier that day, that Ryuji started to reconsider.

Blearily opening his eyes to the dark lighting of the attic, Ryuji didn’t need a clock to know it was well into the middle of the night, and that he’d been woken up from his sleep, again.

But it was weird. There was none of the usual constricting fear, the blind panic- he’d hardly even started seeing the figure of a beaten Akira surrounded by shadow, let alone begun imagining the worst. 

About to blame it on the lumpy and painful springs of the couch and try to fall back asleep, Ryuji caught it. Quiet, as if muffled by something, but just loud enough to penetrate through the silence in the attic and reach Ryuji: crying.

No. Not crying.

Sobbing.

Ice burning in his stomach, he carefully lifted the blanket and rose, wary of creaking springs and the sound of rustling fabric, towards the shaking figure on the bed.

His voice was barely above a whisper, carrying clearly and softly through the silence as he carefully extended an arm, not touching, only hovering, “Akira?”

The responding flinch broke Ryuji’s heart all the more, as a head rose from under the covers, bloodshot eyes wide and darting around the room in panic, hair wildly askew. 

Moving as slowly as he dared, Ryuji sat at the side of the bed, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s only me.”

As the mattress shifted under him, Akira froze. Muscles tight and unyielding, back as ramrod straight as his broken ribs would allow, the entire body braced for something Ryuji didn’t even want to think about. His gaze was distant, somewhere far away from Leblanc, from the blond sat right beside him.

It reminded Ryuji of his Ma, in the months after the divorce. Curled up together on the dingy bed, they’d cling to each other so tight even in sleep, waking up in the morning sweaty and sometimes a little uncomfortable, never minding because they woke feeling completely safe. But there were the nights when his Ma’s screams would wake him in the early hours, recoiling and shaking even in her sleep. Ryuji would sit upright and watch over her until sunrise, would try to pull her from the memories he knew haunted her. Haunted them both.

Looking at Akira, the striking familiarity of the situation made him want to hurl.

He didn’t move, no matter how strong the urge was to reach out and console his hurting best friend. Instead, he kept his voice quiet, just audible above the laboured sobs, and waited.

“You’re okay, Akira. You’re safe, I’m not goin’ anywhere, alright? You’ve got me, it’s okay-”

Slowly, the frantic scanning of the room stopped. Staring at the artificial yellow light that bathed Leblanc’s street, following it into the shadows of the attic, where dark figures seemed to fade away. The flash of blond in his vision, perfectly still, aside from the hushed mutterings leaving chapped lips.

Akira focused on that sound. It felt safe.

As Ryuji uttered soft words of reassurance, he watched the tension slowly leave Akira’s body. Shoulders slightly slouched, jaw unclenched, his lip was bleeding- but he could worry about that later. All that mattered was the softening of Akira’s lines, as he slowly came back to Ryuji.

Delicately as he dared, he reached out. Hand brushing against bruised skin, careful not to as much as press on the marred areas. For a moment, there was no response. He waited, watching the panic continue to leave until, slightly trembling, Akira’s hand interlaced with his own.

“Ryuji?” The hazed look in his eyes was clearing, staring at Ryuji with a newly discovered relief, which was quickly overtaken by shame, “Shit- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, just go back to sleep I’m fine-”

“Hey no, no man it’s okay, really-” Feeling Akira begin to pull away, Ryuji let his thumb run over the back of his hand, determinedly meeting Akira’s gaze, “I don’t mind.”

Akira opened his mouth, ready to retort and insist, but found himself silenced by the look in the other boy’s eyes. Ryuji’s hand was warm, and for a moment Akira forgot there were even any injuries there at all, thumb tracing over them with such a delicate touch he hadn’t known the blond to have possessed.

Staring into Ryuji’s eyes, he wondered at how they were always so open and unguarded, never with anything to hide- a true reflection of his best friend, passionate and honest to a fault. It was something Akira had often envied, that ability to always be his true self, to freely display his emotions. 

He almost took that back now, staring back into deep brown eyes. Eyes which so clearly reflected hurt and worry.

The raw concern so honestly displayed to him that, just in this moment, Akira decided he would allow himself to be vulnerable. Just this one time. Knowing that, as they had done for each other so many times before, Ryuji would never judge.

Hesitantly, Akira pulled his hand out of Ryuji’s and, ignoring the concerned look he got in return, allowed his hand to trace higher, around his forearm, pulling him closer with a silent plea.

As always, Ryuji understood.

Carefully reaching out, Ryuji wrapped his arms around Akira, pulling him to his chest. His touch is firm, but cautious of the bruising and bandages decorating Akira’s abdomen. Even then, careful as he was, the occasional shift sent twinges of pain up Akira’s spine. And yet, he found he didn’t mind- not when he was so surrounded by warmth and comfort and the steady beat of Ryuji’s heart just audible through his chest, that for a minute Akira feels like he can just forget-

Somehow, Ryuji shifts so they’re leaning against the back wall, Akira’s head resting high on Ryuji’s chest, ear pressed to his left side. Logically, Ryuji supposed now would be a good time to ask about what just happened, about the dark circles under Akira’s eyes and the fear still lingering when he caught sight of shadows in the room- but there would be other opportunities. When Akira wasn’t so damn exhausted and clinging to Ryuji like he’s the final lifeline holding Akira together. When neither of them would be waking up in the middle of the night, a frenzied mess, and worrying about suspicious strangers in public and carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Yeah, there would be other times to talk. But for now, Ryuji would stay with Akira and listen as his breathing mellowed out into deep breaths, as his grip on the blond weakened and he cuddled closer still, lost to the throes of sleep.

Ryuji will stay with him until the sun rises.

Neither of them were plagued by nightmares for the rest of the night.