#good motorcycle leather vest

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Route 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood.

Part two.

Stack.

This brother has an aura Star craved. Mysterious and very charismatic. They sort of glided through the throng of dancers as if walking on water. Stack stroked Star’s hand with his thumb soothingly. The sensation calmed her nerves and unsteady breathing.

Star didn’t know if it was the liquor that had her feeling dazed or if she was under his hypnosis, but she let him take her hand while she followed through the door of Vaisseau. After grabbing her things from coat check, they were outside now, the evening air sweeping her hair every which way.

Stack’s footsteps stopped in front of a motorcycle with a seat embroidered with sparkling rhinestones or…diamonds? And an iron cross emblem. He released her hand briefly to swing onto his bike. Stack reached out a hand for Star to climb up. He revved the bike to life with his other. Star made sure to take her time as she threw her thick thigh up and over until her crotch—panties non existent, fish nets creating a sensation over her clit—onto the raised portion of the seat.

Her arms circled Stack’s waist and she interlocked her fingers tightly together. Star pressed her right cheek against the leather material of his vest. Tough, rebellious, or even primal. Durable and strong. The pearl snap earrings over her earlobes revealed themselves as her hair moved in the direction of the wind. The sweat against the sepia flesh of her back dried, leaving behind a sticky surface. The scent of Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison with its sensual and captivating vanilla lingered against every inch of her skin, exuding a brazen, conquering spirit.

The deafening roar of his motorcycle outside of Vaisseau made him appear like a feral beast waiting to break free of his chains and start racing. There was nothing more exciting than riding on the back of his motorcycle to the limit and feeling at one with the machine. It was agile, moving onto the highway with ease. The wind burned her eyes, so she shut them, resting her chin against his back. The dewy fragrance of the air tickled her nose.

Going to a motel was the same as choosing junk food or casual sex, you realised it was gonna be seriously underwhelming but it was cheap and available. It felt different with Stack. Nothing about him screamed underwhelming. More like exhilarating. They arrived outside of a motel lit with a greenish hue. It was two levels and eerily quiet.

Stack pulled into a spot with big numbers painted in red against the concrete. 109.

He got off first, helping Star down and grabbing a hold of her hand again. He pocketed his motorcycle keys before digging for the ones to open his motel door. Star glanced around. She spotted an older gentleman, probably of Hispanic descent, smoking a cigarette against a truck. Soft music from a radio to her left and the sound of a soap opera through an opened window to her right.

The room was clean, the bedding was fresh, for a motel around here that's actually pretty good. Stack flicked on a light, bathing the room in a low, warm glow. He tossed his moto vest against a nearby arm chair and his room keys on a side table next to an alarm clock that read: 1:52 am. Stack made sure to shut the curtains and close the blinds up nice and tight. Star eyed the peeling wallpaper, the single king sized bed, and a mirror situated on a wall behind the bed.

Star sat her cheetah printed hand bag on the other end table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flicked around nervously, watching Stack take off his boots. The leather pants he wore sat lower on his hips, revealing a sharp v–cut and a happy trail. Star unzipped her boots and pulled them off, flexing her toes.

He stood firm in front of her, Star looking up at him through her lashes. Stack extended a hand agonizingly slow, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Star exhaled a shaky breath.

“Do you trust me?”

Star wanted to say she barely knew him, but for some reason, she felt so safe with him.

“I trust you. Unless you give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

Stack smiled as the golden ambience of the motel room surrounded him. The sound of the TV with its static and lack of frequency didn’t stop the sound of Star’s heavy breaths and loud pulse reverberating her ear drums. Stack tugged, bringing Star to her feet. He took slow steps backward, turning her so she could see herself in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful. Skin so soft. Curves just right.”

Star smiled bashfully.

“What if I told ya’ I wanna make ya’ minds forever?”

Star circled her tongue against the inside of her cheek to fight the urge to smile.

“I’d say I’ve heard it all before. What makes you any different, huh?”

“I’m definitely nothin’ like the men before me. Believe ‘dat. You’ll know soon enough.”

Star traced circles against his hand that pressed against her middle, “Mhm…well, I’m here now…”

Star reached up to stroke the back of his head.

“…Ya’ like to be bitten?”

Star pondered, “Uh…never have before…depends on how hard you trying to bite me.”

“How about spanked?”

Star grinned, “Oh, yeah. I love that type of shit.”

“Mm…aight…how ‘bout spit? Like that?”

Star could feel Stack’s dick jump against her backside.

“Love it. You should know…”

A knowing smile deepened his dimples, “That’s right…how could I forget, my apologies, gorgeous.”

Stack lightly nibbled on Star’s neck, causing her to giggle.

“You have a mouth to break up a home over,” Star said with a laugh.

“I got sum’ else too…”

“I know,” Star licked her lips, “You’re blessed.”

Stack circled his hips against her ass.

“You get so excited…I like it,” Star spoke with a whimper.

Stack turned Star around with a growl. He pressed his body on Star’s so she couldn’t escape him. His skillful hands slicked up her arms and gripped her tight. Not too much pressure, but enough to show her who’s boss. Star’s mind didn’t have to wonder what kind of freakiness went down with Stack. The mere thought made her clit throb in anticipation of it all.

Stack leaned in closer to her before Star let him take her into a passionate kiss with his soft, probing tongue.

His warm, wet tongue curled around hers expertly, stealing her breath and even her soul. The kiss wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever gotten. It was much more than a quick peck or a rushed one. He took his time. Learned the taste of tequila on her tongue. The way her soft, glossy brown lips moved around his. The sounds she made. Their heads rocked from side to side, Star falling deeper into the kiss.

Her entire body screamed for this man. He didn’t care how many dicks been in her mouth. How many pussies she licked He didn’t care that she made money off of sex with men and women alike. He didn’t care about the stigma of being with a porn star. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Big bulge and all. Star missed this. The anticipation of being with a man that had what Stack had.

Star dragged her hand down to cup his erection. Stack brought one heavy hand down over her ass with a sharp whack before grabbing a handful. He tilted his head without even being told so and Star took that as he liked his ear licked and nibbled on. She did just that. Meanwhile, Stack’s eyes glowed and his mouth began to drool. He sucked in his bottom lip to capture it all before it landed on Star’s shoulder.

Star moved her kisses to his exposed neck. A ghostly hiss whizzed around her. She palmed his dick tighter, nails digging into the leather of his pants. His deep groans sounded monstrous in a way. That left an impression on Star. This was a primal man indeed. And she made him weak. He’s definitely her biggest fan.

“You taste so good,” Stack whispered against her lips.

It was his turn now. Both of his hands were in her hair before he gently moved her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. Star closed her eyes, feeling him sucking her hungrily. As if he had performed magic, they seemed to glide across the carpet to the arm chair. Stack held an arm against her lower back to stop her from falling. His mouth left her neck, leaving behind an ache. He sat down and spread his thighs deliciously while his arms rested on the chair.

“Autograph,” Star heaved with a laugh, “Where do you want it?”

Stack, eyes dragging over her, went to undo his pants.

Star dropped her lustful gaze to his fingers working to reveal what she’d been dying to see since he pressed it between her ass like a hotdog to a bun.

He thumbed the leather past his thighs, revealing tight, coarse pubic hair and then that thing popped out like a snake in the grass. What white people called a Mandingo with its racial slur that Star despised in porn, she just saw a beautiful black man with a big joystick she’d love to play with. This wasn’t fetish. This was art. Black beauty. And she felt right at home.

An all American whopper. Eight–inch’s of fun. All the dick she could handle. Extra-long shaft that naturally flexes to fit inner curves for deeper penetration. Great for the G-Spot or prostate. Perfectly-shaped tip, textured skin with veins, and a weighty pair of balls.

Star dropped to her knees a little too hard.

She tugged on his pants, removing them completely.

Stack grabbed a remote that was wedged between the cushion of the chair and pressed a button as he aimed it towards the TV.

Loud moans and erotic music played. Star turned her head to see what was happening. Visuals of herself giving a solo performance was right before her. Goosebumps covered both of her arms. She was splayed out on a leather chair with her legs draped over the arms while her left fingers circled her clit beyond a patch of hair. She could even see her own natural lubrication dripping like honey from a glass.

“Stack…”

“I take ya’ everywhere with me. I’ve spent so many days dreaming of what it would feel like to have ya’ all to myself…”

Star faced him again, staring up at him from her kneeled position between his legs. Star’s eyes burned with passion when she spotted drool like no other spilling over his bottom lip. This man was so hungry for her. To the point that he was visibly salivating? Without even tasting her everywhere yet?

Stack whispered sweetly, “I’m the unspoken passion women secretly desire. You wonder about the mystery behind my eyes, don’t you?”

Did he just read her mind?

“Yes,” Star whispered back.

Stack didn’t make a move to wipe his chin.

“I’m sex, uptight and poised. The lover you dream of…”

Star shuddered underneath his gaze. Enthralled by every word that came from his thick lips. Every inch of her skin crawled as she moved her hands all over his body. Smooth, unblemished, dark skin looked as if it had been kissed by the ideal amount of sun provided by the Mississippi Delta. His chiseled chest, ripped abs, and defined, burly arms had her mouth watering lustfully.

“Stack…”

“Yes?”

“I want to suck your dick.” Star stated with assertiveness, feeling her inner thighs and stockings beginning to soak.

Stack placed his index finger over her lips, “Shhh…not another word…”

For some reason, she couldn’t utter another word. It was like he had taken her voice from her. She couldn’t make sense of the way she was feeling as her breathing intensified. Her clit throbbed harder, causing her to rock back and forth.

Removing the halter to her dress, Star allowed it to pool around her waist, revealing pendulous breasts and thick, brown nipples. Her skin was painted with sweat, no circulating air in that motel room. Star quivered as she took him into her hand again, weighing the heaviness in her palm.

“Suck it. Take what you want, baby.”

Star reached for him but Stack snatched his dick back.

“Suck it all the way down too, understand?”

Star did just that.

She kissed the tip. Made love to it with her glossy brown lips, moans equaling those from the TV. She let go of his shaft, no need to keep it in place. It was hard enough to stand straight up like a stick in the mud. Star gathered saliva on her tongue and slathered it all over Stack’s ample package, slurping afterwards to savor his taste. Stack watched her, eyes following the movement of her tongue and closing briefly whenever she let her lips have a moment.

“Can’t believe you suckin’ on my dick, Star…”

The tremble in his voice. She gave his balls some love too, staring up at him beyond that girth like she was peaking around a corner. Stack’s mouth dropped open, teasing her with some tongue.

Star popped her lips off his sack and suctioned her lips along the underside of his dick until her lips were flesh around his tip. She slithered her mouth down with a tight jaw until he was seated at the back of her throat. That delicious curve molded perfectly with her mouth. Star began sucking. Stack smoothed her hair out of the way and held it back so he could watch her better.

“Gahdamn…this how you do it?”

Star hummed.

“You a motherfuckin’ pro. No wonder I love you so much.”

Star blinked up at him with a dick drunk look.

“You love sucking big dick?”

She nodded her head, continuing her blow job.

“Pop your lips off and tell me how much you love sucking big dick.” Stack demanded with a gruff tone.

Star did as she was told, like he was the puppeteer.

She did it nice and slow and lingered on the tip before releasing him. Stack’s nostrils flared as a deep and resonant, “Mmm,” billowed from his lips.

Star jerked with the help of spit, “I love sucking your big dick, Stack…it’s so big…and fat…more than what I’m used to when I fuck for the camera…” Star said with a practiced pitch in her voice that drove men crazy.

“Bet that pussy hole ain’t used to what I got. I know I’m right…”

Star damn near came.

She shook her head, “Not even close. I don’t remember what it feels like to be filled up with all this,” Star slapped him against her palm, “I need a reminder.”

“Put your mouth back on me first.”

Star sank back down on his dick. Stack shut his eyes and his tongue glided over sharp fangs. The lethal incisors were poking him in his bottom lip. Stack’s eyes, glowing brightly, watched her eat his dick up. He was close.

“You ready for this nut?”

Star responded with more enthusiastic sucking. She rolled her neck and pulled out all her nasty tricks. Spit on it. Flicked it with her tongue. Kissed his tip. Sat him in the back of throat. Slurped on his balls. Stack’s hips levitated from the chair and a strong fist in her hair kept her still.

Heavy breathing and sucking sounds with an occasional slap from his balls on her chin.

He was throat fucking her. Star felt hot tears roll down her face. She gripped his thighs.

“Mhm…mhm…keep yo’ ass still!”

Her nose pressed against his crotch almost suffocating her.

Hot jizz made its way down her throat, feeding her lust for him. Stack let her go and Star’s mouth popped off his dick.

A dick that still was as hard as it was before she sucked it.

Star went to wipe her mouth but Stack grabbed her by the neck, leaned forward, and thrust his tongue in her mouth. Star could taste his saliva. It mingled with hers.

“Your mouth felt like I was digging for gold…”

He kissed her.

“So good…”

Stack released Star’s neck. He helped her to her feet and took it upon himself to remove the rest of her dress. Star shimmied her hips, full nudity he’d only ever seen on screen finally revealed to him.

Stack was patient. Not rushed like she was used to.

He twirled her around, taking in every inch of her from the follicles of her head to the polish on her toes. When she stopped in front of him again, Stack allowed his hands to explore. He first glided his fingertips along her collarbone before they found its way to her breasts.

“Everything about ya’…so succulent.”

Stack fought the urge to extend his fangs.

What he wouldn’t give to sample her blood for the first time. With over fifty years of experience, he plans to. He’d been waiting to get his hands on Star Vixen. And she came to him so easily. Now here she was, standing in front of him dripping in sweat and smelling tasty. The aroma of her sex burned his nose in the best way.

The fans in Vaisseau blew her scent around, and Stack had to make a move fast to stake his claim. He could sense the pressure from surrounding beasts of the night, ready to fight for her. Stack would put up a fight. Star was his. His to feed from. His to fuck. She would be his for however long he planned to stay in Arizona before there was another calling.

The life of a Vampire required you to stick to the shadows. Stack did just that, feeding off of the blood of humans. Sweet, rich, and even addictive. The taste grew more intense the more he fed. He didn’t take too kindly to it at first, but each person has their own unique taste. He just knew Star tasted like syrup. He couldn’t wait to drench his goatee with it.

Stack’s lips found her nipples and he just knew they tingled once his tongue roamed.

And they did just that for Star.

“I’m gonna have my way wit’ ya’ tonight,” Stack uttered before flicking his tongue back and forth.

Each nipple. Equal attention.

His thick fingers reached between her legs and played with her clit through her fishnets. His fingers played around with her clit, slipping through her crevasses, finding her soft wet spot, fingering her slowly. He could tell from the look on her face she’d never been fingered like this before. Stack explored, changing the pace and rhythm of his fingers, playing around in her pussy.

Star clawed his shoulders.

“Bring one foot up…”

Star obeyed his command.

She was spread better for him. Perfect.

He was knuckle deep, fingers swimming in her pussy.

“I’m just tryna see what I got to work wit’…”

Star whimpered. Just leaking all over his fingers.

“Star…ya’ hear that?”

She stilled herself to get a good listen. Lips sealed.

Squelch squelch squelch

“like I’m diving in the ocean…so fuckin’ wet…”

Stack attempted to add a third finger but Star clenched up and hopped off his fingers.

He brought his hand up between them and Star watched with a dazed look at him rubbing his fingertips together. He sniffed his fingers first before sucking her mess off. Star stood still, eyes blazed, pussy missing his fingers. Those shining eyes held firm with her brown eyes and Stack dropped to his knees.

Get on your knees and arch your back

Star found herself getting into position on the edge of the bed. She did what she was told, arching over the bed, ass sitting high and open, fishnets imprinted in her flesh and revealing a hairy pussy.

“Have you ever had your ass properly worshipped?”

He took his fingers hooked them in her fishnets, and ripped them open with force. Star gasped.

Stack stared at the proud, thick, curves before him, the luscious mocha color of Star’s booty straining as she opened up, revealing both holes. Her ass was the perfect reward for him. That pussy he longed to eat for hours and hours. Stack kneeled down behind her, drooling all over himself to taste and touch and take of her rich, beautiful body.

Stack pinched the tender underside of one cheek, then the other, pulling them apart to see everything in between, a moan escaping his lips as he saw up close just how wet and creamy she is. There’s nothing like a woman’s ass spread out before you, waiting to be taken, to humble a man. Stack simply held her there in his hands, letting his thumbs rest along the edges of her lips, pacing himself before diving in for a delicious treat, one that already had his dick hard, strong, and ready.

You like that, daddy? You like the way I stroke my pussy?

You wanna taste it, don’t you? You want to eat me up like an ice cream sundae?

I’m all yours to devour…I want you to eat every inch of this wet pussy…don’t miss a drop…

Star on the TV was speaking the words for Star in person.

There was so much to taste and touch, Stack didn’t know where to start. The musky scent of her pussy perfume wafted through the air, smelling of sweat, and sweet decedents. Ass hovering in his face like this Stack could shoot a load all over the carpet right there. He couldn’t resist giving each cheek a solid slap, the sound echoing in the room as the sting reverberated in his palm so good.

Have you ever had this ass worshipped?

“No,” came her muffled reply as he spread her open and let his tongue explore her sweet curves.

Stack pressed against her twin globes, giving himself room to taste her sensitive flesh, the pucker writhing beneath him as he buried himself between her cheeks.

Stack curled his tongue into a point and dove right in while his fingers moved closer to her sex, stroking the wetness, what he found there just steadily dripping. He speared her asshole like a famished man. It was just him and her panting and grunting and her voice from the TV and the sound of Stack’s thick tongue and lips.

He dipped that greedy vampiric tongue into and out that ass, his drool acting as lubricant. He worshipped that ass like he’d never get another chance, tongue savoring her. That tongue wiggled down and he drilled it into her pussy. Stack filled her up as best he could, plunging in and out to the beat of her own rocking hips.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stack heard her cry, a little louder than before as he pressed three fingers deep into her tight tunnel. Stack feasted on Star’s bottom again, those strikingly soft clappers against his cheeks. Sticky syrup coated his fingers. Her walls quivered. Her as whole clenched whenever he dragged his tongue over it.

You’re doing such a good job, daddy!

Eat me! Savor me! Take it!

Make me cum on your long tongue! Your sweet lips!

“Stack, oh my fucking goodness!”

His thumb flicked her bean in a downward motion from her position. He then rubbed it back and forth with his thumb. His tongue sat flat against her labia and he stroked up and down with it, drool coating her folds and adding towards a slippery ride. She twitched and writhed the more slickness appeared.

“Daddy, you’re drooling! So much all over me! It’s running down my stomach!”

Stack curled his arms around her legs and sucked on her clit with a tight grip. Star gathered the sheets into her fists and cried into the bed with nowhere to escape.

He made her cum. So hard.

Star could have fainted from how powerful that orgasm was.

And he wasn’t done.

Stack pulled his tongue out and kissed his way down to her ankles and feet. He got to his feet and positioned her himself for round two.

“Stack, you don’t need a break?” Star asked weakly.

His dick was iron clad and she couldn’t believe it.

He dragged her ass over the edge of the bed and got down on his knees again.

“I ain’t taking no break.” He mouthed. Stack smirked up at her, “You my meal until I’m through, understand?”

Star knew not to speak another word. Not when those eyes were sharp on her and gleaming like a monster.

Stack pulled her lips apart and finished where he started.

Star twitched in his mouth, pussy still sensitive.

“Thought I was gon’ get just one taste?”

Star’s eyes crossed when Stack’s full lips slurped up her clit and moved his head back and forth. She went to push him off and Stack locked her wrists.

“Uh–UHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Stack flicked his tongue and it sounded like he was lapping at water in a bowl. She flowed. Poured all over his damn tongue. He worked hard for it. Stack drank as much as he could down. Next to the taste of blood, pussy juice was the best thing. His tip buzzed with desire.

“You got my pussy cumming again!”

Star gripped his hair tight. Her thighs bounced and shook. Stack was not getting off her pussy.

And her thriving was pissing him off.

“Ouch!”

Star felt a sharp prick on her inner thigh. Sharp enough to make her listen. She felt all the blood in her veins rush to that one particular place. It perked her nipples and made her clit a stiff bud. Stack licked away at the spot he nibbled on before kissing his way back to her pussy.

“Don’t move again,” Stack opened her lips, “Look what following directions get you..clit nice a fat for me how I like it.”

Stack flicked his tongue over it. Star moved her hips up and down, following the way his tongue would go up and down speedily.

“What I say?”

She didn’t have time to respond. Stack pushed her knees so far back she was folded. He went back to toying with her clit. Star clawed his arms, crying out in overstimulation.

“STACK!”

She felt his lips do its job and he sucked away to his dead hearts desire. She extended her neck and whispered “This your pussy, this your pussy…”

He finally came up for air. His whole face glistened with pussy juices down to his chest. Star, bathed in sweat, locked eyes with him.

She couldn’t began to describe how soaked she is.

Pubic hairs slick with spit and cum.

Pussy lips engorged and pulsating with sensitivity.

Hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.

Stack kissed all over her pussy softly, admiring his work in between. Star began to relax, body going lax against the bed.

“That was amazing, Stack. Thank you.”

Stack smirked against her clit. He peered up at her from between her legs.

“Anytime, baby…I mean that.”

Stack kissed his way up her body. Star was drifting in and out of consciousness. He positioned himself above her, staring down into her face.

Sleep, baby…we’ll meet again…

Stack stroked her face until her head fell off to its side. He picked her up and tucked her in. Stack could wait to sink his dick into her. He just needed to eat her pussy. And it was worth the wait.

The sensation of sleep settled over his body, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. Dawn was approaching.

He’d sleep for now, bringing Star closer so he could breathe her in.

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[ailoda]

updated: 24.01.25

ᯓ★ biker!au

How To Get Away With Murder (❅✘): Bucky was always good at helping you clean up your messes, which is why he doesn't bat an eye when you show up on his doorstep covered in your abusive boyfriend's blood. (@empyreanwritings) (warning: domestic abuse)

Brotherhood & Bullets (❤❅✘): the 107th motorcycle club had always and would always be the protectors of their small, charming hometown — such a responsibility required strong shoulders to uphold the weight of it all. Your venture to their town would harbour twists and turns for you to navigate, all while you became the angel on the President’s shoulder; the tips of your angelic wings tinged red by your own demons. (@vesearlee) (links to AO3)

HWITA (✘): Bucky finds out you’ve never been eaten out and takes that personally. (@itiswormtimebaby)

Riding Into The Night (❤✘): one of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. (@veltana)

Bucky “loving” your thighs. (✘) (@itiswormtimebaby)

Call Me Baby (❤✘): returning to Brooklyn for the summer after a year of travelling from city to city, you hadn’t expected to find your best friend, Peggy Carter, hopelessly in love with a biker, and when she decided to introduce you to the rest of his club, you hadn’t expected to fall for one either — that was until you met one with pretty eyes and a habit of calling you baby. (@cherryrogers)

Bucky “comforting” you when you get too high. (❤) (@itiswormtimebaby) (warning: weed use, anxiety, talks of death)

I Met Them, And Now I'm Their Princess (❤❅): you met them, and now you’re more than just their good friend. You’re their princess, the bikers princess. (ft. steve) (@buck-star)

new! Riding Into The Night (❤✘): one of the bikers caught your attention as they tumbled inside. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos, and wearing a leather vest. Essentially no different from the rest of the gang. But those blue eyes met yours and for a second the world stood still. It was only you and him. (@veltana)

[octuscle]

Accountant wanted

Let's not kid ourselves: no one expected Dylan to have a career. He'd barely managed to get through school, and probably only got his bachelor's degree out of pity. But he really did look like he needed to be pitied. Slightly overweight, bad skin, a squeaky voice and an annoying laugh. Most of his fellow students who were not doing a master's degree had job offers in the bag before they had even started their bachelor's thesis. Not Dylan.

In the beginning, Dylan kept his head above water with his old student job. Cashier at the supermarket. Sometimes he was also allowed to help out in the accounting department. Sometimes he also helped restock shelves. Nothing you'd need a bachelor's degree for. Sometimes Dylan also checked the supermarket bulletin board, but aside from tutoring jobs or babysitting for babies or pets, there were rarely any offers. Until that one day. There was the note. Handwritten. Blotchy. Not quite grammatically correct. But it said “Accountant wanted”. And Dylan could do accounting. Sort of. While he was working, Dylan didn't dare to use the phone. But right during the first break, he called the phone number listed. Someone answered whose English was rather broken. In a mixture of Spanish and English, Dylan conducted a kind of job interview. However, his Spanish was even worse than the English of his interlocutor. But somehow it seemed to have worked, because in the end Dylan received a WhatsApp message “Come mañana at 8:00 oficina. We looking forward to seeing you. I'll send the address later.” Dylan was so excited that his puny little cock actually got hard.

The next morning, Dylan got up at 5:30 a.m. It was quite a distance to Little Cuba. And he wanted to be on time and look good. With his white shirt, unfashionable tie, and tassel loafers, he looked a bit out of place on the bus. But he was at the specified location at 8:00 a.m. sharp. Dylan. No one else. Dylan checked the location again, which he had received via WhatsApp. He was exactly at the agreed place. It was 08:15, it was 08:30. It was 08:45… At 09:30, a man on a motorcycle stopped in front of Dylan. “You Dylan?” Dylan's mouth went dry. The guy was a mountain of a man. Muscles, hair… Tattoos… Leather… The man got off his bike and gave Dylan a fistbump that nearly knocked Dylan to the ground. “Soy Enrique. Pero call me Lobo. ¿Qué pasa con esa clothes tan silly?” Opened the rolling grille of the store they were standing in front of. Lobo pulled Dylan behind him. He went to the back. Dylan stood a little unsettled in the empty room. A mixture of cafe, leather clothing store and motorcycle repair shop. It smelled of oil, leather and sweat. For whatever reason, Dylan got a hard-on again.

Lobo came back and put a pile of clothes on a counter next to Dylan. A pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a leather vest. “Take them off! Get dressed!” It wasn't a request, it was an order. Dylan looked around for a sheltered spot. But there wasn't one. And Lobo barked more than he said: Here! So Dylan stripped. Thank goodness Lobo wasn't watching because he was looking for something. When Dylan put on the jeans that were loose-fitting on his legs, Lobo put a pair of boots in front of him. Dylan shielded his soft pale man-boobs from Lobo's gaze. He could hardly take his eyes off Lobo's steel-hard, tanned pecs. Lobo noticed this and made his muscles dance. Small damp patches from his precum formed in Dylan's jeans. Dylan pulled on the T-shirt, which was actually a cut-off tank top, and the leather vest. A mirror hung next to the rack of leather jackets. Dylan looked into it. He looked so ridiculous. His pale, chapped skin didn't match the masculine clothes at all. Since he was freshly shaved, his double chin was even more visible. And the gelled parting just didn't fit in at all. Not with his outfit. And not in the store!

Dylan asked Lobo what he should do now? Lobo looked at Dylan as if he wanted to eat him. “¿Soy yo el maldito contable? ¿Sé usar este puto ordenador?” he asked. “Todo lo que necesitas está ahí, en tu despacho.” Dylan had to make an enormous effort. Dylan didn't exactly speak the Spanish he had learned at school either. But he replied, somewhat haltingly and with a heavy accent, “¡Lo tienes, jefe! ¡No te defraudaré!”

In the corner that Lobo called his office, there was a surprisingly new and high-quality laptop with a Post-It with “clave: Lobo” stuck to it. Not exactly a high-security wing, Dylan thought to himself. But then, he wasn't employed for IT security. There were a few pieces of paper with notes next to the computer. Maybe there was a folder somewhere where he could file the notes. Dylan opened a drawer. And dollar bills poured out of the drawer. Small, large, hot off the press, worn… There had to be thousands of dollars. Lobo called out to him that he would like to know what yesterday's takings were and what outstanding debts there were. Well, counting the money was still the easiest task. Dylan was done with that by lunchtime. Then he had 18,743.00 dollars neatly bundled on his desk. His hands stank of money. It was hot and stuffy in the store. Dylan's hair was wet with sweat. He was hungry and thirsty. Lobo called out to him to get some tacos. And a few bottles of beer. Dylan took 20 dollars from the pile, made a note in an Excel spreadsheet and ran to get lunch. For Lobo, himself and, just in case, one or two of the guys who occasionally came into the store between errands.

Miguel greeted Dylan with a fist bump and asked if he wanted the usual. Dylan replied “¡Claro, amigo! Para cuatro personas, por favor. Y dame una botella extra de cerveza, estoy sediento como un buey hoy.” The two talked about the usual while Miguel prepared the tacos at his street food trolley. Soccer, the cursed Republicans, motorcycles… A few of the other guys, who were already eating or waiting in line behind Dylan, joined in the passionate discussion. Gringos rarely strayed into this neighborhood. Especially when it came to talking shit about Trump, there was no need to mince words. One of the guys asked Dylan how he spoke ghetto Spanish so fluently. Dylan shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea. It was just the Spanish he knew not only from Miguel, but also from Lobo and the boys. And Lobo was now snapping at him on the phone in exactly the same Spanish. He wouldn't be paid to blaspheme and gossip.

Dylan said goodbye to Miguel with a fist bump. He would have preferred a deep French kiss. But Miguel was a prude. Too bad, really. Well, maybe Dylan would be able to suck off one of the boys in the store later. As the youngest in the team, he was the one furthest down the hierarchy. And as an accountant, he was worth less than the money collectors, pimps or protection racketeers on the team. The others chose when and how he was allowed to have fun. When he arrived with the tacos, he took a quick look in the mirror: yes, he was the gringo on the team. But he worked hard on his body, his language and his attitude. He did everything he could to fit in.

It was only a short bus ride to his apartment. He shared a room with a couple of guys who worked in one of Lobo's restaurants, with whom he laundered money. They were cool. They helped Dylan improve his Spanish, they always brought food from the restaurant in the evenings and if none of the guys from Lobo's headquarters felt like playing with the gringo, Dylan always had the chance to fill a hole or get one filled. Not that early though, the guys rarely finished work before 10pm. So Dylan took the opportunity, swapped jeans for nylon shorts and boots for sneakers and headed for the pull-up bar in the small park around the corner. Time for a little workout.

The next morning, Dylan's morning wood led him straight to the bathroom. The boys hadn't come home until around 02:00 and he didn't want to disturb them. But fuck, his morning wood was almost painful. He stood in front of the mirror, sucked in the smell from his armpit and jerked off with his other hand. Shit, he was 19 years old now, this permanent horniness of puberty had to be over by now. But…. No… It…. Was… FUUUUUUUCK! Not over yet. Dylan wiped the mirror and the sink clean. Shit, too late to shower again. The boys had probably dropped off the last day's takings by now and if he didn't finish booking them by the time Lobo arrived, there'd be trouble. So he quickly wiped his upper body with the washcloth, brushed his teeth and set off.

When Dylan arrived at the store, no one was there except Juan. Juan repaired the boys' bikes. He'd been doing that since Lobo was still shitting in his diapers. And now he was working on Dylan's baby. Technically, it wasn't his yet. But if the month went as he expected, it would be his bike by the end of the month. Finally, no more of this damn bus driving. He hated riding the bus, almost like he hated that his parents had given him that silly name “Dylan”. That's why he'd been nicknamed “Gringo” by Lobo and his boys right from the start.

17,776.00 dollars. Less than the day before. Lobo would be fuming. But Dylan's job as an accountant was done. All the income had been properly booked to the restaurant, the laundry and the motorcycle workshop. Even though he himself stank of sweat and musk, his books were all clean and tidy. Maybe he could give Lobo a blowjob to thank him when he arrived. And then Dylan would take care of booking the expenses.

Pic by @ki-kink

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Breathe It In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl takes you out on his bike for the first time.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

“Y’ever rode one before?” Daryl asked. 

You shook your head, attention running over the hot, glinting chrome and black metal. Every inch of the motorcycle was covered in dust but you knew it was an impressive piece of machinery, especially in Daryl’s eyes. And it was big. Longer and taller than you ever really noticed, now that you were the one about to climb on top of it. 

“No,” you said to Daryl. “Never even seen one up close before you got this.” 

“Ya don’ haf’ta come with me. Once we git another car, we can-“

“No, it’s fine. I’ve done scarier, right?” you said, thinking just of the past week and all you’d faced. 

He gave a curt nod. Then he swung his leg over the motorcycle, the toe of his big boot finding the kickstarter immediately. His jeans hugged his body as he hiked his knee up unnaturally high before putting all his weight on the lever, slamming his leg down and starting the bike on the first try. He twisted one of the handles as the engine revved to life as he settled in the seat. 

He looked at you, gaze cutting over his bare arm, thick with muscle. “I’ll hold it steady. Foot rests are there,” he said, pointing low on the bike to the small pegs you would use. “That’s the engine-“

“That’s the engine? The whole thing is just… right there?” 

“Where else would it be?”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t know. Enclosed somewhere maybe.”

He huffed a laugh. It made his hair fall in his face, but you could see his blue eyes studying you as he continued his explanation. 

“The exhaust pipes are down there too- careful a’ those. They get hot.” 

“Okay, so butt goes there,” you said pointing, “feet go there and don’t touch anything else.”

“‘Cept me.”

You straightened, shooting your attention back to him. “Hm?”

“Gotta hold onta somethin’. Come on, let’s go.”

You wondered if you had flushed as red as he did at his words. He was looking at his fingers wrapped around the handlebars, knuckles turning white, but you saw the pink wave crawling up his neck from his vest and landing around his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” you said, sidling up to the bike. You tried to sound teasing, but you just sounded nervous. And it wasn’t just the heavy machinery making adrenaline rush through you.

He held his hand out flat for you to grab and support yourself as you flung your leg over the side of the bike. The moment your bottom landed on the back of the seat, you felt Daryl’s wide hand around your calf, moving one of your feet into place on the pegs. It was only then you realized there were only two foot pedestals for four feet. You’d have to share. 

Once he’d moved you into place, he tapped your knee, signaling you to stay put. A cold rush of air kissed the spot his hand had just kept warm. 

Your legs pressed against the back of his body as you sat behind him, your feet on the outside of the pegs, while his thick boots stuck to the inside. Nearest to the hot exhaust pipes, you noticed. He was keeping you away from them. 

“Good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The motorcycle growled loudly at the will of his hand. Just a twist of his wrist and the bike was primed to speed off. 

He turned his head, not quite looking at you, though even then you could see his smirk. “Better hold on,” he said. 

You took the back of his jacket in your hands, balling up the leather around his hips into your fingers. “Kay,” you said, bracing yourself a bit. 

His foot rocked and his fingers squeezed, releasing the clutch and picking the gear. He twisted the handlebars, revving the engine and making the bike shake under you. To you, it was just a lot of noise and practically unnoticeable movement. To someone with motorcycling experience, it was a warning of oncoming power and swiftness. But you had no idea.

Without warning, the bike jolted forward and sped off so quickly it almost left you alone in the dirt, your grip slipping from Daryl’s jacket. 

Before you could fall off though, you hugged close to Daryl, palms open and sprawled over his chest and belly in panic. After the initial shock, however, the bike was a smooth ride as it kicked up dry Georgia dust behind its tires. That’s when you realized Daryl’s shaking and trembling wasn’t from the rattling of the bike, but from his chuckles. 

You heard his laugh even over the buzzing bike and rushing wind. It was a rare sound. Low, but free, like the rumble of an engine on a long, twisting summer road. In half mock, half true indignation, you lowered your hands to rest around his waist, meeting in the middle around his belt. Leaning up to his ear, you called to him. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes, Dixon!”

“Told’ya ta hold on,” he answered, giving your clasped hands a pat. 

“No kidding.”

He shook again. Though this time you couldn’t hear the soft chuckles that emanated from him, you knew they were there. You felt it. Just like you felt the affection radiating from him as he twisted his fingers in yours until they were interlinked. 

Before the outbreak, you never would have ridden a motorcycle. They were too dangerous. In fact, the thought of even looking at a contraption like this one, something Daryl had practically made with his own hands, without a safety helmet would never have crossed your mind. 

These days, things were different. Every day was a threat. But this, being with Daryl and sharing his pride and joy felt like the safest thing you could ever do. He was holding your hand and your arms circled him tight as you rode safely past anything questionable. 

You laid your head on the back of his shoulder and breathed it in- the freedom, the safety, the gas smell on his jacket and the smoke in his hair and you closed your eyes. And you felt his hand squeeze yours as if he was doing the exact same.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Canonical character death; Vomiting; Sexual themes.

A/N: It hasn’t taken me this long to write a chapter for this since I started it. And once again, I’m disappointed in the quality. I hope it’s received well enough. :/ And try not to maim me over the ending. I’m hoping it will inspire me to be a bit faster with updates. 😅

It had taken you a while to calm down. Hours later, you were under the sheets and lying with your back toward the door. People came and went, offering food and medication and water. You accepted all with silence, only for the sake of your baby. The little one needed the food and water and you needed the medication to help you keep it down. Carol informed you that she and Lori had taken care of Daryl. Had they murdered him? 

The sun had set and cloaked your room in shadow by the time you opened your eyes again. You didn't even remember falling asleep. What had woken you? Hands rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you sat up. There was a curious light outside the window. It was as if you had been denied the audio from a feature film but suddenly pressed the button to unmute. 

Screams, gunfire, cars, motorcycle. What the hell is happening?! Your fingers brushed the top of your boots when the bedroom door swung open. Lori appeared wild, frightened to a degree you had never witnessed in her before.

“Carl!? Y/N, have you seen Carl?!” 

“No, I’m sorry. Lori, what—” But she was gone. Now the panic was setting in, your chest tightening for the second time that day. Where was Daryl? What was going on? 

“Patricia! Beth! Y/N! We have to go!” Carol’s voice was an unfamiliar tone, the quiet woman infused with a tension and fear in the call of each name. You stepped into your boots and jogged down the stairs just as Patricia and Beth stepped out onto the porch. Carol was reaching for you before you even noticed her. 

“What’s happening?!” You were breathless with worry and confusion.  

“The farm isn’t safe. We have to go!” The woman urged, her hand wrapping around your wrist. Beth was crying, Lori was panicked. The sight that greeted you was overwhelming. Walkers everywhere. The barn burning. Gunshots from cars circling the herd. 

“Carol.” You whimpered. You had no weapon, watching Lori bolt with a bag. “Do we have any guns?” 

“No time to find one! Go!” 

The four of you sprinted off the porch, the herd closing in, forcing you in different directions. You weren’t sure how you ended up so far into the field, running blindly in the dark, the only light coming from the unsteady flames devouring the barn. You didn’t stop running, the dead closing in from all sides. 

You nearly stumbled into the desperate clutches of a woman, teeth snapping at you before she could get a good hold. You pushed her, stumbling backward into the chest of a man, his rotting mouth snapped by your head, nearly taking your ear. You couldn’t help but scream. You’d never make it to the forest. There, you could easily utilize the safety nature provided. However, the amount of dead that blocked your path made it impossible. 

With the fence at your back, the road just beyond it, you glanced over your shoulder. You could hop the structure easily but more dead waited on the other side. Your mind was still scrambling for a resolution when you heard the familiar rumble and crunch of gravel beneath rubber. 

Daryl was there, calling your name. You cleared the fence and ran to him, legs burning and breaths unreliable. 

“C’mon! I ain’t got all day!” He was standing over the front edge of the seat so you could easily mount the bike behind him. Once both of you were seated, you wrapped your arms around his middle and buried your face into his back. 

“Go! Go!” Your shout was muffled against the leather vest but he heard you and soon you were moving, the wind carrying the smell of blood and smoke. You burrowed further against him, taking in his scent instead. Leather and pine, his natural musk, a hint of tobacco. You focused on it while he dodged walkers, the snarling growls and moans too close as you felt him slow and start to weave. 

“Not so tight.” His warm hand patted yours and disappeared just as quickly. 

“Daryl.” You whimpered. You pulled your hands back to rest on his sides, lightly curling your fingers into his vest. Any noise aside from the motorcycle began to fade as the wind picked up. You were going faster. Still, you didn’t let go, didn’t look up. You’d barely made it out. If Daryl hadn’t been there—

He was slowing again, to a crawl and eventually, a stop. When he cut the engine and began to move away, you could feel him taking your breath along behind him. You were clumsy bringing your leg over the seat, nearly toppling face first onto the gravel road. 

“Why—Daryl, why are we stopping?! We can’t be here! It’s not safe, Daryl!” You knew you looked like a wild animal, eyes wide and frantic, your hands protectively curled around your middle. “Daryl—Daryl, we—”

“Easy.” How long had he been standing that close? Your gaze focused on him, but you still couldn’t seem to catch your breath. 

Red. 

“Daddy!”

“I love you, Peanut.”

“Hey, we’re good.” His palms were warm against your face, blue eyes swimming with concern. He was trying to bring you out of the darkness you had wandered into, scared and vulnerable. “Gotta breathe, Y/N. C’mon, girl.” You hadn’t realized your own hands were grasping at his shoulders until he was releasing your face to gently pry them off. “Doin’ better. Can’t stay here long but ya can’t ride like this.” He lowered your hands to your lap and placed his palm back against your cheek. 

You ducked your head and swallowed back the bile inching up your throat, realization striking you like a freight train. “Oh god, I left the meds! All of Hershel’s supplies! Daryl, the baby—”

“Ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to either’a ya. Ya hear me?” The conviction in those eyes, the determination. He meant it. You hiccupped and nodded, the deep breath you finally willed yourself to take stuttering. “Are ya hurt? Bit?” You shook your head with more enthusiasm than necessary. “Need to getcha somewhere safe, try an’ find the others.”

He was still standing close to you and watched as you wiped your face, looking away when you tried to meet his eyes. You allowed your arms to fall back toward your lap, your right one hitting his foreman on the way down. His palm was on your belly. You hadn’t noticed he’d placed it there when he had moved your hands. Bringing attention to it was likely to embarrass or upset him. A repeat of the events from earlier was not something you could handle. 

“What if we’re the only ones?” You asked when his hand moved to run through his hair. He jutted his chin forward, wordlessly requesting you move so he could again straddle the bike. There was no hesitation, he stood with his boots on the ground to let you seat yourself behind him. 

“We ain’t.” 

“But if we are?” 

He didn’t look at you, but was still for a moment. You watched his fingers flex around the handlebars. 

“Then s’just the three’a us.”

You were careful to not squeeze too tightly this time when you wrapped your arms around his stomach. 

You gave a weak smile to Carl as you climbed off the bike. To your absolute shock, after the embrace with his mother and father, he hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Hey, kid. Glad you’re okay.” You plucked his hat off, ruffled his hair, and sat the giant thing back down. He beamed up at you and then continued on his journey of relieved greetings. You spotted Daryl watching you and shrugged. Sometimes you thought Carl didn’t even realize you were around. There were few words spoken between you and the kid, even though you did talk quite a bit with Lori. 

You’d slept so much the day before but you found yourself exhausted, feeling slightly nauseous. You’d told Daryl about the medication. Had he mentioned it during the discussion of where to go next? Leaning against the bike, you watched him rationalize with the others on a plan.  

He seemed calmer around everyone, not so eager to gain distance. He glanced back at you now and again, looking away when he realized you were still watching him. You couldn’t seem to find it within you to be embarrassed. Maybe you could blame exhaustion or pregnancy. 

“Y/N?”

“Huh?” You stood up straight only to find everyone looking at you now. Did Daryl just smirk at you? “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“We just wanted to get your opinion.” Carol smiled, small and tired, but knowing. Everyone probably saw you gawking at your baby daddy. 

“Whatever Daryl says is fine by me.” The implications of your statement were lost on you until the second the last syllable crossed over your lips. Even the archer had the decency to look surprised. Now you were embarrassed. An oil stain on the pavement became ever so interesting when you needed to look away. Your gaze remained there for the rest of the conversation. 

Daryl offered to find Andrea but was quickly shot down by Rick, saving you the trouble. Once T-Dog suggested east, Daryl agreed that main roads should be avoided. He walked by you to grab the crossbow from the back of the bike and quickly took down a walker before strapping the weapon back in place. 

“Watch out.” The hunter carefully nudged you aside and climbed onto the bike. 

“Want me to ride with some of them?” You pulled your flannel tighter and hugged yourself against the chill. You were definitely not dressed for the weather. 

“Nah, you’re with me.” He replied from around his thumbnail. He was eyeing your attire, knowing for certain you weren’t dressed for how cold the nights would get. You knew it too. He said he wouldn’t let anything happen to you or the baby. That meant finding medication and clothing. “Don’t care what we’re doin’ or where we are, if we’re both there, you’re with me ‘less I say otherwise. Understood?”

“Okay.” You acquiesced with a nod and climbed on, grateful for the natural heat of the archer’s body. You would have sighed if it wouldn’t just raise other questions. When the bike began moving, you continued to keep your hold loose but buried your face again, not only shielding your skin from the cold air but also effectively hiding the small smile you wore. 

Daryl pulled the bike off at Rick’s signal, asking if he was out of gas. Your hold on him remained until he patted your interlocked fingers and waved for you to climb off. You tried to keep your teeth from chattering while everyone talked—argued, really—about staying or going. 

Rick had killed Shane. The deputy hadn’t been very forthcoming with the details but your lack of interest regarding the man’s death told you exactly where you stood. You were never a fan.

“Look, I don’t care who goes today or tomorrow, but m’goin’ cause Y/N needs that medicine.” 

“I can go with you.” You offered, following Daryl toward the selected camp area. When he stopped, you nearly collided with his back. He turned without looking at you, not at first. When he did, his expression was stern. The hand he brought up to grasp your chin was quite the opposite. 

“Remember what I said? You’re with me ‘less I say otherwise.” You nodded. “This one’s otherwise. Need ya to stay here tomorrow. You’re gonna be sick by then, I reckon. Distracted. Need ya safe.”

You kept your gaze locked with his. “Okay.” You conceded easily, almost smiling at the naked relief in his eyes. “Would—would you get me a jacket? Maybe some—some maternity clothes?”

The archer scrunched his nose, releasing his hold on you. “Tell Maggie ‘bout the clothes. I’ll find ya the meds an’ a jacket.” He turned away, but you called his name before he could make it far. You weren’t sure he’d accept the contact after yesterday’s fiasco, but you placed your arms around his neck, your face tucked against his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” He hummed and nodded in response, quick to end the embrace and disappear past the treeline. He was likely gathering firewood. He wouldn’t be hunting. He was too adamant about you staying with him to go far. 

The archer was shaken by the events of the previous night, whether or not he cared to admit it. Maybe not the walkers or the loss of the farm; maybe not even the deaths. He was worried for you and his baby. It shone clear in the way he looked at you, the way he wanted to keep you close. The unwanted but familiar insecurities came creeping in, compounding on top of your already unsettled stomach. Was he just looking out for the baby?

“Maggie?” Your voice came out quiet and unsteady but you still managed to snag her attention. “Daryl said you’re going tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She stepped away from Glenn with a lingering touch on his arm, making sure he knew she was still there. “Don’t worry. I know what medications you need and we’ll find them. We’ll find something.”

You nodded without meeting her eyes. “Thank you but he told me to ask you about clothes. These,” you pulled at your t-shirt beneath the flannel, “won’t be warm enough. And I’ll get—bigger.” You made an awkward gesture around your abdomen with both hands. 

“You’re glowing, you know.” The look on your face must have been reason enough for her to giggle and place a hand on your bicep, squeezing ever so gently. “Pregnancy suits you. Don’t worry. I’ll find you some clothes. Shoes too, cause your feet are gonna swell. You’ll thank me later.”

“My feet?” You squeaked, looking down at your boots. “Thumper, be nice to mommy’s feet. I need those.”

You weren’t feeling well at all by the time the sun began to dip below the horizon. The night air was cold, even with your proximity to the fire Daryl continued to feed. Your stomach was a rolling mess of knots. You managed some water but even that threatened to make a reappearance. 

Daryl hadn’t hunted. He wouldn’t leave you behind, especially when you started feeling unwell. The group had not been happy, offering to sit with you and to not let you out of their sight. It wasn’t good enough for him. He knew anything he managed to bring back would be of no benefit to you. 

When you tried to send him off, he pinned you with the same look he’d given you at the farm before he had turned away and yelled for you to leave. You raised your hands in defeat and walked away.  

Now, a few hours later, you were glad he hadn’t left. Even with all the people around you, there was a suffocating tension around that campsite. Had you been left under their guard, you likely would have ended up in the middle of the venomous arguments and snarky jabs. You just didn’t have the energy. 

You were a silent spectator during Daryl’s conversation with Carol, his defense of Rick. The man in question came around the wall that sheltered the group, tense words once again shared. You couldn’t take part, couldn’t even begin to grasp what was being shared, crawling to a spot at the perimeter to empty the liquid contents of your stomach. The heaving was painful and left you gasping and spitting with a hand clutching the shirt over your belly, as if protecting the life inside you from your own body’s revolt. 

“Y’alright?” Daryl drawled from somewhere beside you. You nodded slowly, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. The added stress seemed to have taken its toll. You somehow made it upright to your knees, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. One look at the archer’s face made it evident that he wasn’t buying it. “Let’s getcha settled for the night.” It wasn’t a question in need of answering. It wasn’t even a suggestion. 

“I’m not sure I can walk that far.” The longing for the warmth of the fire was substantial but not enough for you to even try to send the signals for your legs to cooperate. 

“Didn’t ask ya to.” Had you felt a little more human, you might have wallowed in the indignation of him gathering you up to relieve you of the bothersome, albeit short, walk to the fireside. You were deposited slightly closer than when you’d taken a seat on your own. The warmth was intense and welcome but still not enough to battle the cold that had taken root within your bones. 

“Thanks.” You muttered through a deep sigh. The group was now sitting in relative silence, all but Carl still awake. Your own eyes were heavy within moments. You chose to submit to it and laid over on your side. The ground was freezing but what could you do? It hardly mattered anyway, as your eyes closed and you drifted off almost immediately. 

You awoke with a deep breath that morphed into a yawn. It appeared everyone was asleep with the exception of Glenn and Maggie up on the wall. It was pleasantly warm, just the slightest bit of cold seeping in here and there. Maybe you could just coax your mind back into slumber. Stretching a leg to seek out a more comfortable position, you realized something was keeping you from moving. 

“Be still, woman. Jesus.” 

You froze, briefly holding your breath. Daryl was lying beside you with his back pressed against yours, acting as your own personal space heater. There was a part of you—a rather large part that you’d like to punch in the throat—that wanted to roll over and curl into the man. He was warm. You already knew he ran hot, you’d been pressed against him in more pleasurable ways than this. 

Violently beating down the urge to spoon with the archer, you cleared your throat, knowing your voice would be rough from sleep and vomiting. “Thank you.”

“Ain’t nothin’. You were cold, saw ya shiverin’.” He shifted slightly. “Gotta take watch soon. Ya gonna be alright?” 

You nodded with a quiet mhm already missing his warmth though he had yet to move. You would be fine, of course. Nauseous with a headache the size of Montana but not dying. That qualified as alright, right? 

You let your eyes close, too exhausted to sleep any longer but the feeling of warmth and safety was enough for you to at least relax. All too soon, the cold air struck against your back, coaxing a quiet whine from your throat. Rolling to your back, your bottom lip jutted out into the most exaggerated pout you could possibly achieve. 

Daryl looked down as he strapped his crossbow onto his back. He snorted. Mission accomplished. 

Almost. 

“Can I go with you?” You sat up, scratching your lower belly. Damn, it had itched lately. Maybe you should ask for some lotion too. You could see the exact moment when automatic refusal died on his lips, his eyes flitting down to where your fingers grazed lightly over your abdomen. 

“Well, c’mon then.” Daryl needlessly adjusted the strap of the weapon, running his thumb over his bottom lip while he waited. The beaming smile you gave him spread across your face before you even gave it permission. You didn’t even ask before grabbing his arm to pull yourself up. He huffed but you caught the one corner of his mouth lifting before he looked away. 

“Lead the way, my good man.” You waved your arm forward and stepped aside so you could fall in behind him. He was shaking his head with a huff of air through his nose that really could have been a laugh. 

“Your good man, huh?”

You stumbled within the first three steps, his words catching you off guard. His large hand easily caught your upper arm, keeping you on your feet. You scowled in the face of his smirk. “I never liked you.” You jested with a light punch to his shoulder. 

Smirk still in place, he nodded toward your belly. “Ya liked me well ‘nough at one point.” You had no comeback, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. He gently squeezed your arm before letting go, walking away like he hadn’t just taken the upper hand and used it to drop the mic. 

Face scrunched, you fought back a smile before the battle was no longer necessary. Your eyes traveled from his shoulders, down his back, lingering on his ass before continuing the journey to his boots and back up again. Images of your first few encounters slammed into the forefront of your mind. You gasped quietly, the memories so vivid that you could almost feel him deep inside of you. Remembering how he grunted and panted, his large hands exploring every inch of you. 

“Gonna check the perimeter. You two good for now?” Daryl called up to the couple on the wall, snapping you out of your reverie. You paused behind him while the exchange took place, rubbing your thighs together to at least try and stifle the throbbing ache in your core. 

What the fuck,Y/N?! Get a grip! You followed on autopilot when he set off again, your mind racing. You were suddenly hot, nearly sweating; your mouth went dry. That damned throb at the apex of your thighs just would not relent. How could you go from sick and sleepy to depraved and horny? Oh, yeah. Pregnancy. 

“Stop lollygaggin’ an’ keep up.” Daryl snapped, thankfully not looking back at you. You could feel your skin heating, knew he’d find it flushed. A sense of shame attempted to overwhelm your sudden desire. You were ogling the archer like a piece of meat dangled over a lions’ den. “What’re ya starin’ at?” He asked absentmindedly, removing his crossbow to carry it at his side. 

“Nothing.” You replied a little too quickly, your voice low and breathy. That got his attention. He came to an abrupt halt and turned to eye you suspiciously. 

“Ya okay?”

You took a step back in tandem with his step forward, nodding vigorously even as your chest heaved. His head was tilted, eyes narrowed, looking as if he was solving a particularly complicated mathematical equation. 

“Ya sure?”

“Mhm!” Too enthusiastic, not very convincing. “I think,” you were nearly fucking panting as your back pressed against an inconveniently placed tree, “I’ll just head back.” You rolled against the bark to face the trail toward camp and your chest promptly collided with his arm when he blocked your exit. 

“Nuh-uh.” Daryl ducked his head, trying to catch your eye. “S’wrong with ya?” You didn’t answer; couldn’t really, what with trying to calm the lust flowing through your veins like molten lava. The taste of blood filled your mouth, the sting of your teeth piercing your lip was a welcome distraction. “Y/N.”

Stop talking. Stop looking at me. Where was this coming from? You had appreciated his handsome features and physical attributes plenty of times without the burning need to feel him pounding into you. Your eyes snapped toward him when the same hand that had met the tree to block you came to rest against your forehead. 

“You’re warm. Fever?”

“No.” Your voice trembled even more so than your body. You pushed his hand away as gently as you could manage, trying again to walk away. “I need to go back.” Fingers wrapped around your wrist. 

“Nah, not alone. I’ll ta—”

Your mouth was on his so fast that he staggered back. You heard his crossbow hit the ground, felt his muscles tense. He didn’t react for a moment that seemed to last forever but when he did, it wasn’t what you were hoping for, what your body was craving. You whined heatedly, attempting to pull him back to you by tugging his vest. 

“Th’fuck, woman?” Daryl didn’t sound angry. Far from it. He sounded confused. And unfortunately for you, the ache between your legs had chased away any semblance of dignity you might have once had. “You’re sick, exhausted. What the hell?”

“I need—” You whined, rubbing your thighs together while your hands pulled at his clothes. He wasn’t trying to stop you. He wasn’t doing much of anything actually. Just studying you with that stoic expression while you were about to all but beg him to fuck you senseless. “Daryl, I need—”

“Tell me whatcha need.” His tone was soft, like he was genuinely trying to understand.  

“You.” Your eyes were shining, wide and wet. “I don’t know—it just—I was fine and then—”

“S’hormones.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture delicate. You wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time. 

“Damn you and your book.” You growled. You weren’t really sure what you were expected to do now, what you expected him to do. You were friends. It wasn’t like he’d just acquiesce and fuck you sideways. When he walked away, you thought you might curl up on the ground and cry. Since when did desire become borderline painful?

A deep breath did little to aid you. Maybe you could slink off into a corner at camp and take care of things yourself. It would be awkward and you could get cau—

“C’mere.” 

You blinked at him while still trying to get your breaths under control. His crossbow was leaning against a different tree now. He was standing in front of it, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip again. You approached hesitantly, hands wringing the front of your shirt. 

“Daryl?”

Once you were within reach, he grabbed the edge of your flannel and pulled you forward, spinning you just before your body met his. Your back against his chest, you could feel him breathing on your neck, a fresh wave of arousal seeping from your core. You were sure your pajama pants were soaked at this point. 

“Daryl, are you—”

He shushed you against your ear, allowing the lightest brush of his skin over yours. “See that?” He wrapped one strong arm around you with his palm resting on your belly, the other hand lifting to point low to the ground behind where you had previously stood. “Perimeter line. Cans an’ shit to make noise.” His stubbled cheek rubbed against your neck. “One behind us too. Anythin’ or anyone comes through, we’ll hear ‘em.”

“Okay?” You shivered when you heard him inhale against your hair, taking in your scent. You nearly came from the thought of him enjoying the way you smelled. Then again, even with your sensitive senses, you found his scent calming. 

The hand over your stomach pressed just the slightest bit harder while his other hand slid up your side to cover your breast. The ache when he squeezed brought a moan out of you so quickly that he flinched behind you before chuckling. No longer wearing a bra until you could one that fit, he could feel your nipple harden, immediately shifting his hand so he could pinch the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Ya sure s’me ya want takin’ care’a this for ya?” On the surface, he seemed ready and confident, already having knowledge of your body. His voice though, it was the most fragile, tiniest uncertainty filtering through. 

“Please.” You whined, feeling the evidence of his desire now pressing against your ass. 

“Say it then.” Daryl nipped at your pulse and soothed the skin with his lips and tongue. “Tell me ya want me.” 

You wanted him to keep talking, whispering against your skin in that gravelly rasp that was making your pussy clench and ache. Then again, you wanted him to shut the fuck up and get on with it already before you spontaneously combusted. 

“I want you. I need you, please.” Your body was so alive with need that you’d beg on your hands and knees if he asked. You groaned when he chuckled again, this time right against your ear. It wasn’t very long ago that you were shivering in front of a fire. Now you shivered while your skin burned for a completely different reason. Funny how that worked. 

“S’bout damn time.”

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Demons are a girl’s best friend

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

You hide from the rain in a church, not knowing a very interesting beast already claimed the place as his home.

Anon requested Monsterfucker!reader x Were!Daryl, with some preg and pups!

The church building was in a good state, within a gate that seemed to hold up surprisingly well against dead. It had been used to house the religious folks of the town when the problems first started and had housed many more groups for short period of time before they too moved on in search for something permanent.

The place was good, but didn’t house people anymore. Nowadays it was covered with warning signs sprayed with graffiti warding off anyone attempting to enter.

A once human man made himself at home in the place, needing a roof and walls now too with his home in the woods constantly being overrun by the dead. Except these days he no longer resembled a man. The only evidence of him ever being one was still tucked in a pocket of the old, army green bag he carried around that now held his most common clothes. Among those a leather motorcycle vest with tattered wings stitched on the back, and a wallet with the long expired ID of a blue eyed young man named Daryl Dixon.

You could handle a little rain, but the rate it was coming down now was a little too much for you.

Making your way around to find a place to hide you came across an small church.

You hated churches in the old world. Their people were never your people but now you thanked the building being empty and available to you.

The interior still kept its beautifully made details, now graffiti’d over and makeshift fabric walls hung in places. The pews had been moved for space too.

It all looked like it was used at the start as a safe house.

You were gonna stay and made sure to barricade the doors to keep unwanted guests out, dead or alive, while you slept.

Moving some pews against the doors took longer than you hoped, even when you took the closest ones.

You were tired now. Tired and ready to pass out for the night and pray the storm was over by then.

But a low growl scared you wide awake again. You just blocked your way out and didn’t check the building for walkers first. The scraping of the wood over the floor must have woken them up..

You mentally cursed at yourself for being so extremely stupid, keeping quiet to not further announce your location while you snuck off. With a hand on your hip you remembered taking off your knife belt and leave it at your bag. In the same direction the growling came from, right behind a fake wall.

“Fuck me..”

You were officially done with this world. You rounded the place to get a view of what you were dealing with while also trying to find anything that could function as a weapon, picking up a candle holder on your way and taking the candle itself off to use the iron spike at the top.

You kept low to the ground, hiding behind anything you could use as a cover. The growling had stopped and sounds of buckles undoing and items moving around had stared before the growling picked up again, now right where your bag sat. You could have sworn you heard your knife belt hit the ground and your bag scoot over the ground. It sounded heavy, so it had to be. There was nothing else there.

Now that you were thinking about your bag, you let out a sigh remembering you could have hung your dirty clothes out In the rain to at least rinse them and dry them over a fire later.

You were almost where you needed to be to get your items and enemy into view.

Just a few more steps and—

With a loud clatter the candle holder fell rom your hands at the sight of what was rummaging in your bag.

He had his head stuck in your bag, soft muffled growls sounding from it. His wrapped tail wagged happily.

You knew immediately what he was, and understood it was easier to survive while keeping the form he kept now. If it had been anyone else standing in your place they probably would have ran, but you were a little too distracted by the beast currently going through your bag with the largest hard-on you had ever seen.

Mind you, you had seen some impressive ones before, seeing monsters weren’t too rare in your area before the world went to shit, but this beast in its entirety was huge.

Probably not a city wolf.

At the clattering sound the beast pulled his head rom your bag, your dirty laundry hanging off his muzzle.

Your panties, to be precise..

Your hands were up in defeat, but your eyes kept going between his own, and the angry red cock between his legs. A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth and your mouth spoke before your mind could stop the words from flowing.

“You know it tastes way better from the source, right?”

The beast shook the panties off his face, slobbering all over the scattered contents of your bag in the process and looking you dead in the eyes while licking his lips. A large paw moved from the floor to find his member and give it a few tugs, letting out a satisfied growl as he kept his eyes on yours.

You watched him, almost hypnotized. He knew exactly what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. You could feel yourself getting wetter but never moved an inch to get closer to him where he stood over your bag and weapons.

He did look very handsome. Strong too, he could snap you in half with one hand.

“C’mere.” The hand that was touching himself before how reached out for you, precum staining the pads of his fingers.

You weren’t gonna make him ask twice and stepped closer to him and watched him stand up to his full height, ending with his chest at your eye level. The extended hand reached for your face, stopping in front of your mouth. “Clean up.”

You stared at the glistening liquid covering his paw pads before taking his hand in yours and gently licking his thumb clean, giving the pad a kiss before moving on to the next one.

While you worked you felt tugging at the waist of your pants, the button being torn off not so gently and pulling the zipper in half along with it.

“Hey, those were my good pants..” you pouted against his middle finger, lips resting against the skin but your whines were ignored as he kept tearing the fabric further and continuing with your sweater. He urged you on to continue cleaning his paw instead of moping over lost clothes. “Got spares, go on.” His muzzle was right next to your ear as he moved in to sniff at you from up close, taking in your sweet scent and let out a hum.

By the time you had his paw cleaned you were stripped bare, only remains of pant legs and boots.

The cold air hitting your skin had you shiver, now really feeling how wet you were getting.

With both hands available again you were grabbed by the hips and manhandled onto one of the wooden pews, ass right on the edge and legs held wide open. “Be’er from’e source, hm?”

The anticipation was killing you, reaching for the long tufts of fur on his head and pulling his muzzle against you.

With his nose pressed against your clit he let out a growl at your hair pulling, which you took note of and tucked the info away for later.

A large claw came to rest on either of your thighs and the rough surface of a huge tongue slid across your lips. With a little prying and prodding your hips jerked at the sudden intrusion, feeling his tongue slip deep inside while his jaws opened wide enough to wrap around your lower end. He was holding you up now as he shoved his tongue in and out of you, making sure to not break your skin on his fangs.

His rough ministrations had you moaning in mere seconds. "Fuckk, you know what you're doing, huh.." your hands found purchase at the base of his ears, rubbing the thin flesh between your fingers and pulled a moan from the beast between your legs that vibrated deep inside of you.

You felt his tongue brush against your most sensitive spot, making your grasp on his ears tighten and pulling another whine from him. It made your walls clench around him, signaling you were close.

"Keep going.. please.." You tugged softly on his ears, moving your hands into his long fur and pull at it hard to make him let out those vibrating growls two, three times before squeezing your walls tight around his tongue as you tipped over the edge. You slumped against the wooden bench and let go of his fur, watching him pull away from you slowly, sitting on his haunches in front of you and going back to paw at his cock and lick his lips.

"Now you." His mouth formed a wide grin as he moved himself to sit on the wooden pew next to you, moving to pull you to your knees in front of him. "Go on."

You stared at the large member in front of your face, trying to find the easiest approach to get this done.

You started off with simple licks to get a taste, all the way from the base up to the tip before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently. You had to keep your jaw wide open to fit only his tip inside and almost gagged on him already.

"Ahhw.." Two padded fingers stroked your hair, his claws never touching your skin. The fingers moved to the back of your head and pressed, shoving himself all the way against the back of your throat causing you to gag and pull back. You coughed while he let out a laugh. "S'rry.." the chuckle in his voice was a clear sign he didn't mean it in the slightest but you let it slip.

You cleared your throat and moved to get back to work but were stopped by a pointed claw against the chest.

"Wha, huh? I thought you wanted me to return the favor?" You stayed seated before him and watched him move off the pew and onto his knees in front of you.

“S’fine.” His mind wandered, looking you up and down to take in your details, taking in your scent that was almost addictive. He took both your hands and placed them on his cock for you to play with before his hands found your head and pulled you closer, his nose pressed against yours. After a short moment his head tilted slightly, for a quick moment resembling an adorable confused dog before his mouth opened and he licked across your mouth. A broad stripe from cheek to cheek that had you involuntarily smile in response, barely parting your lips but just far enough for him to prod his tongue in between.

Your hands worked as best as they could on his length while the again fucked your mouth, this time without making you gag on him. You wanted to kiss back, but swirling your tongue around his was the best you could do for now until he stopped and pulled away again.

He looked around the place, towards your bag and bedroll. “Tha’ soft?” His paw was pointed at the rolled up thick fabric attached to your bag and got a confused yes that lead to him going to fetch it and lay it out on the ground. “Go ahead.”

“You want me to go lay down?” He nodded and you made your way down on the soft bedding. “Hmhmm, no fur. Cold floor, s’bad.” He followed your movements with his own, ending up hovering above you. His paw lifted and moved down to your core, mimicking the motions he remembered from his days as a human but stopping right above you. You followed his gaze down and saw him stare at his hand. Instead of asking him what was wrong you took two of his fingers and pressed them to your clit, carefully moving them around making you jerk up your hips in excitement. “Like that, jus the pads. S’good..”a The roughness of his fingers was a welcome feeling and you saw the tense energy leave your companion too now that he was pleasing you properly.

You reached out for him but your hands couldn’t make it all the way down to his cock. Instead they found purchase in the shorter fur of his chest, kneading the soft muscle underneath. Light scratches and squeezes made him purr above you, joining your mewls.

“Want it in, tha’ okay?” He was nuzzling your neck as he lowered himself to lay on top of you, grumbling something as he couldn’t get comfortable.

“Get comfortable.” You moved yourself up on your elbows. “We’ll make it work, big guy.”

He was sitting on his haunches and looked between the two of you before moving to lower him to his knees, his back paws stretched underneath him so his crotch was lower to the ground. With a satisfied nod he took your hips in his hands and pulled you up against him, hips in his lap with your legs spread and shoulders still on the soft bedding beneath you. “This good?” His deep voice was comforting, making sure you were okay.

“I’m good, puppy. Don’t worry about me.” You reached your hand down to pat his thigh. “I’ll make myself known if if hurts.”

Ears perked up at being called a puppy. He wasn’t a puppy, he was a monster. Did you really feel like he wasn’t s threat? You did invite him to do this to you without hesitation after all.

You intrigued him from the moment you spoke your first words to him. And it didn’t help he found you incredibly attractive. He could have easily used you for his pleasure and snap your neck afterwards but he felt drawn to you. He had to think of a way to ask you to stay after the storm passed.

He kept one hand on your hip to keep you steady as the other one moved to rub his tip between your folds, gathering slick before pressing in the tiniest bit. He watched you like a hawk for any signs of discomfort, stopping at even the smallest grimace as he stretched you further than anyone ever had.

And hurt it did, but your constant reassuring had him slowly continue to rut his hips into you, pushing further in inch by inch.

“You hurt.” A rough paw wiped away a tear on your cheek and stopped moving again.

“I’m fine, you’re just so big, baby..” You added a little wiggle of your hips at the end of your sentence to add extra reassurance.

Gods, the compliments you gave him went straight through him, urging him on to keep going until his legs gave out. But he knew better and kept up with your body’s limits. It’s why it took him a while to be fully sheathed inside of you with his knot pressing snug against your lips.

Tongue was lolled out of his mouth by now and you were breathing heavy but smiling, your hand moving to poke at your stomach that showed how deep he was buried. “Fuck, that’s insane. Hot though.” You squeezed around his length, telling him to start moving and he did, slow thrusts at first that had you whine with the slight discomfort.

The feeling quickly faded and turned into pleasure, leaving you a moaning mess in his lap until he pulled out and moved you onto your stomach.

You audibly complained at the loss of contact but almost screamed when he crawled over you to pull your hips up and shove himself inside again, one quick move to be buried entirely.

Immediately his muzzle was buried in your neck again, lapping and sniffing, mumbling from time to time as well as he kept rutting into you. “Hmhmm smell so sweet,” he lapped at your ear, your jaw and your neck before licking right down your spine and pressing his nose to your skin. “Smell good for breeding..”

You moaned underneath him, barely registering his words. “Whatever you want baby, just keep doing what you’re doing.” You tried to reach for him but you had no strength left in your body. With your face against the floor you didn’t see him raise his brows in interest. He thought of pulling out before he came, earlier. Shoving himself down your throat and make you swallow it all but that quickly changed to doing exactly as he said.

One of his hands on your hips moved to rub his pads over your clit, making you moan out loud. Your clenching signaled him you were close and set a pace to work himself towards the end as well.

Your moans and whines were music to his ears, you sounded so pretty. He could barely contain himself already and then with a long drawn out cry you came around his cock, squeezing you walls and making him howl.

A deep, rumbling howl as he thrusted deep into you, taking two or three tries to shove his knot past your lips and finishing deep inside you.

The extra stretch hurt like a bitch, but it was so worth the pain.you got to spend the night with a gorgeous creature and cuddle with him too for the time it took his knot to deflate.

“Ya okay?” He was back to lapping at your cheek and nuzzling you affectionately.

“Hmm yeah, all good.” You nodded and moved a hand to pet his head, rubbing your fingers over his ear again to earn a soft hum. “M’happy.”

He held your hip in one hand and your chest against his in the other and moved to lay down with you, getting you positioned right so you wouldn’t be hurting.

You were resting on his stomach, head on his chest as you began to wonder. “Hey, do you have a name?”

His large paws came to rest on your back, mindlessly drawing figures on your skin. “Yeah. M’Daryl.”

You played with his long fur and smiled, giving him your name in return. “Well, goodnight, Daryl.”

Weeks passed after that night and a lot happened in you’re the small church that had become your home after the stormy night.

It was only a couple days later that you found out Daryl had in fact done what he promised and had knocked you up. A week later you woke up from your sleep in pain, crying into Daryl’s chest as he held you, unsure what to do against the pains of your body changing to carry his pups. You slept through the entire next day while Daryl hunted for food and brought back some fish in the meantime.

You had just finished eating and sat in one of the pews staring at your stomach. That night spent in pain resulted in what you could only describe as canine teats, small nubs on your belly that had started to round out by now.

When Daryl saw them in the morning after you both passed out he was beyond excited. You had asked him what it meant and got scared by accident when he told you “puppies, many.”.

You weren’t against the idea of pups at all, you were excited even, but the many part was what had you feeling scared. Daryl made sure to comfort and ensure you everything was going to be okay.

And he was right. At almost three months you could barely walk, but you were doing totally fine.

Daryl wasn’t enjoying the fact that he had to leave you alone to go hunt, but you needed food now more than before. To his luck he found a deer that would feed you at least until the pups arrived if you rationed it well, so he didn’t have to leave your side again.

Daryl made it clear he was enjoying you a lot in your current state, resting his head against your belly and purring, speaking soft words while he thinks you sleep. Words of love and adoration, sometimes of worry, but those never linger.

At each and every mewl of being uncomfortable he’d be on you for comfort, be it carefully kneading your muscles, holding your belly to relief some weight or lap wt your sore breasts. He’d happily take any leaked milk as thanks for the care.

It was the middle of the day, you were relaxing in a beam of sunlight that came through the stained glass windows and painted you in many colors.

“Daryl?” You had been feeling uncomfortable ever since you woke up the day before but it had gotten way worse all of a sudden. Tightening muscles had you double over in moments, suddenly feeling weight shift low inside of you. He was on you the second his name left your lips, feeling around your stomach and up your skirt before stopping and pulling his hand away. “You feel and talk. Can’t touch ya, claws..” he wiggled his fingers in your view before helping you back onto the nest you built in preparation for this, needing to stop every few steps because of the contractions. “Ya good? M’sorry t’hurts.”

You could only nod and hold onto your painful belly as you sat against the stuffed bags, breathing through contractions while Daryl unwrapped your skirt and took your hand, trying to place it between your legs but your belly made it almost impossible to reach. “Just leave it be, we got this.” You tried to sound convincing but it was clear the nerves had kicked in.

“Strong momma, you.” His muzzle nudged the underside of your belly as he inspected your progress as best as he could, trying to spread your lips with just the pads of his fingers and feeling them bulge outward with each of your cries. “You see anything?” You managed to ask between deep breaths, getting an eager nod in response. “Snout. Good work.” A soft pat on your thigh added to the compliment.

Daryl watched you work, his large hands holding your thighs spread until one moved to cradle your first pup’s head. “Bit more, then a break.”

You huffed at his comment, but pushed hard to get your first child out of you, groaning in relief as you felt it slip out entirely.

“Good momma.” Daryl laid the pup down between his arms and started to clean as you caught your breath before the second pup made itself known. You wanted to see so bad, but you never got the time to look as the second one came a lot quicker than the first. It hurt less but still took effort, listening to Daryl’s short updates and commands and feeling his hands move around you between pushes.

The sun had gotten down by the time you were all done. You were on fresh sheets instead of laying in the soaked ones from before and all your puppies were laying comfortably against your skin, squeaking softly as they were suckling away. Four little creatures, cleaned up by Daryl the second they were out of you.

And Daryl? He was curled up in front of you, watching the most beautiful scene he had ever witnessed. He stared at the puppies, up your figure and to your face, where he found you staring right at him. “They’re so small,” he watched your hand reach of the pups and pet its head. “so weird, seeing how big you are.”

A low rumbling laugh left him as his hand joined yours, softly running a knuckle along the back of the pup. “No worries, momma.” He moved to stretch and lay down even closer, his nose an inch from your chest where the first pup nursed, and his tail resting over your legs. “Lil’ ones grow big fast.”

He couldn’t do anything but stare, feeling his mind wander to the days of chasing the pups through the woods behind the church and teaching them how to hunt while you foraged. But he also admitted to himself he enjoyed being inside with you while you carried his children. He quickly told himself off, not allowing himself to even think about asking you for the next few months. The two of you first needed to figure out being parents in this new world.

[jimblejamblewritings]

An Observation of Humankind [thinkpiece number: 1]

Every girlie (nonbinary, women and men of all orientations included) is a type of Marauder and their partners are marauder love interest — fandom version included.

James Girlies:

either like sports or play sports, especially soccer/football or rugby

bad eyesight

defends everyone

himbo and ditzy but we love them for that

fanfiction reader/sharer

have had several short-term but very intense crushes

surprisingly not always high school sweethearts (which yeah odd cause of Lily)

nature bros

calls their journal a diary with no shame

are always outside and can't sit their ass at home for too long

love bouquets

own at least one pair of converse

loves pop music and Hozier

have scaled a fence before

might be able to play the guitar

handwriting could be nicer if they tried

didn't get their drivers' license right away

take their coffee any way that isn't straight black coffee

definitely think all people are hot even if they don't swing that way (think lesbians love Thor)

loved Merlin the tv show

James Girlies love Regulus and Lily people, which means:

cold people, smart people, black cat people, painters, polite people, readers, homebody people, gothic people, hippie people, people with beautiful handwriting, black coffee drinkers, whisky lovers

Sirius Girlies:

dog people and cat people equally

doc martens

loves coffee and tea equally

fanfiction writer/reader

gorgeous handwriting, probably cursive

might know or has had an interest in calligraphy

an astrology and/or astronomy girl

speaks at least two languages

plays an instrument, any instrument... but their parents definitely suggested piano

leather jackets

denim jackets

wears way less black than people think

fantasy nerd and has played dungeons and dragons

was a superwholockian

usually the only child or older child

doesn't smoke but everyone thinks they might

cocktails or whiskey and beer, no in between

virgin till like freshman year of college or later, to everyone's shock

looks like a black cat but is actually a golden retriever

however they could kill you don't get it twisted

has trauma but won't trauma bond

crooked smile and not perfect teeth but gorgeous anyway

perfect hair that is deliberately messed with

motorcycles and vespas and small cars

listens to every genre of music

tattoos (even if just one small one)

journal person

can quote certain movies by heart

unfortunately turned on by sweater vests

fashion girlie

Sirius Girlies love Marlene, Remus, and other Sirius people, which means:

warm people, confident people, tall people, flirty people, musicians, readers, intellectual people, fancy people

Remus Girlies:

sweets lover

probably likes dark chocolate the most as well as hot chocolate

owns sweaters, probably vintage, some handmade by their Sirius girlies

plays chess

can draw

mismatched socks

waits till the last minute to do laundry

is more of a cat person but also loves dogs

didn't have strict parents and ended up giving themselves curfews and discipline and only late realized the reverse psychology

keeps a notebook about everything their partner likes

messy cook in the kitchen

loves tea a bit over coffee

is probably the actual smoker of the group

doesn't make their bed

good kissers

always carries a jacket or wears a shirt under their sweater so they can give it to their partner

can hold their liquor a bit too well perhaps

has trauma and might trauma bond

great fashion sense but will wear literally whatever is clean

Remus Girlies love Sirius, Pandora, and Dorcas (hear me out) people, which means:

black cat looks and golden retriever personality, weird people, people that pour their pain and emotions into their art whether music or painting or drawing, people that take time to care for themselves in the morning, witchy people, smiley people

Peter Girlies (pretend there was no betrayal):

underestimated

asks the most off-putting questions without realizing it

takes a camera everywhere

loves board games

tea drinker all day every day

baker

sends selfies at literally any angle because they don't care

always pays attention to everyone

loves breakfast food eaten not at breakfast

had a ukelele phase

cleanest of their friend group

Peter Girlies love Mary people, which means:

sunshine people, almost always happy, excitable people, pda lovers, carefree topeople

[xmads-omensx]

I humbly request anything Folio to help improve the shit day that is Monday itself. Make it feral and throw in a motorcycle. Thank you in advance.

Pairing: Nick Folio X Reader

CW: allusions to smut

I tried to make this as feral as I could without writing straight smut lol. Hope you enjoy

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @thisbicc @collidewiththesav @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @dsireland86 @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @athenexe

You had never dated anyone who rode motorcycles before, so it was definitely something that you had to adjust to.

Not only were you worried about his safety when you learned that he would be riding over to your place on it, but you were also completely unprepared for how you would feel seeing him pull into your driveway on it.

You felt your breath quicken as you watched him pull in front of your house, your arousal at the sight of him in his leather vest taking you by surprise.

You opened your front door, face completely red as he stood there.

It was hot out, so his hair had begun to stick to his forehead.

He was so annoyingly unaware of how good he looked like that which made your predicament even worse.

However, when he realised what was going on he was flattered.

Naturally, he teased you about it for a while before picking you up, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you up to your bedroom.

[chvnnie]

hey. hey. do you. have any. perhaps. thoughts. about minho.

FUNNY YOU SHOULD I ASK I WAS QUITE LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT NOEASY ERA MINHO, SPECIFICALLY CHEESE MV MINHO.

there’s just. something about that motorcycle.

the leather vest, the way his hair is so perfectly slicked back. the way the green light of the bar highlights his feature perfectly, sharp jaw nudging against your collarbones as he looses himself in your neck.

sharp teeth dig into the skin, only soothed by the jolting of his tongue. the marks deepening in color. minho commits time to making sure of it.

it was a risky move — his larger hand in yours, tugged out the backdoor. through the rows of cars until you found the motorcycle you’re all too familiar with.

he chuckles when you pull at his shirt, alcohol making you needier than you should be. “are you sure this is a good idea?” the brisk late winter air pricks his neck and he’s suddenly very aware of how exposed you both are.

you hum, the hands on his shoulders gently pushing him back. the vehicle moves slightly under his weight, minho squeezing the edge of the seat to stay grounded. “straddle it.”

those two shots really gave you some confidence, huh? “your wish is my command.” he climbs onto it, leaving a little space between his lap and the handles for you. it’s lucky you wore a skirt today; hiking it up as you take a seat on him.

your clothed core rolls against his rough jeans. head rolled back in pleasure, you moan into the open air, drowned out only slightly by the music floating out of the bar. as pretty as you think minho is, he’s convinced you’re not human. how can flesh and blood be so ethereal? the marks he left on you earlier are angry. broken skin glowing under your sweat and the moonlight.

god, you just exist and minho is smitten. prepared to walk into the depths of hell if it meant a second alone with you.

“fuck, baby.” he groans, hands on your hips lifting you ever so slightly. the loss of contact makes your head snap back up, pouting at him with your plush lips. “need to feel you.”

you work quickly with his belt, letting it hit the gravel next to the bike’s tire. within seconds, his cock is out — beautifully curved and hard in your grasp.

there’s no time for prep, not when the voices of the friday night crowd are starting to filter outside. people ready to call it a night at almost midnight. pulling your panties to the side, you line your hole with the head of him, quickly sliding down despite the sting.

groaning in unison, minho grabs the nape of your neck. lips slam against yours, moving in a mess of heat and teeth and tongue. the taste of his whiskey fills your mouth, and god. god you feel far more intoxicated than you actually are thanks to him.

“that’s it.” he mumbles against your mouth, other hand quickly finding your ass. he pushes up the rest of your skirt, desperate to feel the plush of your ass against his palm. “fucking ride me like the slut you are.”

the slight degradation makes your head spin, bouncing quickly up and down on his cock. it fills you so wonderfully, head pushing against your sweet spot without much work. the night sky is dark, yet you’re seeing stars, right at the precipice of ecstasy.

“min.” you breathe into him, and he’s convinced this trashy bar parking lot is heaven. “min, i—“

letting go of your neck, his head falls between your legs. an expert on all things you, he finds your clit with ease, thumb brushing the bud in firm circles.

“let me feel it.” he encourages you, his cock twitching as his own edge approaches.

when you both cum, bodies melding into one, your screams are muffled by his lips. a sound that only he can hear, that only he can love. your hips slow, overstimulation raging up and down your spine. his kisses move to your jaw once you’ve quieted down, softly mumbling praises against it.

so consumed. so happy. so lost in each other than neither of you notice the footsteps that are growing in volume. headed straight towards the two of you.

this was shit sorry i wrote it at work



[owlwithanapple]

Bird & Fox

Chapter 2

When the alarm clock rang, you opened your eyes looked at the ceiling. The paint color of the ceiling was your favorite blue. You sat on the bed, raised your hands, stretched out, and yawned.

In the past, you didn't have a chance to get up on time in the "organization", always wake up by the sudden attack. The sudden tranquility made you very uncomfort, felt as if something was missing.

You get out of bed, go into the bathroom, pick up the toothbrush and squeeze the toothpaste to start brushing your teeth, squeeze some facial cleanser and rub it in the palm of your hand, apply it evenly to your face, wash the facial cleanser on your face with water, and wipe your face with a face towel.

You take off your pajamas and underwear, adjust the water temperature to warm water, which can release the fatigue on your body, turn on the shower head and let the warm water wash your body, squeeze some shower gel on your body and then wash it.

Take a towel to wipe every part of the body, dry the wet hair with a hair dryer, leave the bathroom and return to the room. The most distressing question every day is what to eat, what to wear and what to do.

Open the drawer in the wardrobe, which is full of all kinds of underwear. Choose a set to put it on, choose a simple vest and denim trousers to match, which can highlight the curve of your figure, and then tie your hair up. Today's matching is complete.

You posed to the mirror in front of you and appreciated your figure, but you were heard "Woff!" from the living room. Somebody interrupt you, your pet corgi, named Kirin, which barks outside the door.

As soon as he see you open the door open , he quickly run into your room. You see him jumping like a child in your bed. You lie on his fluffy stomach and absorb energy to heal you.

You pinched his fat cheeks. "Little bad boy, I'm going for a walk today. Don't make trouble. Do you understand?"

"Woff~" He ignore you and lie lazily on the bed. You open the curtains let the sun outside shine in. His cute appearance is really super charming and healing.

"If there is a bed, there is no master, you traitor corgi." You smiled at Kirin and touched his head, you took out your bag and mobile phone from the drawer and left the room. You went to the hallway and put on a pair of boots and left home.

The first time walked on the street, opposite of last night. In the morning, it was full of hardworking workers, and at night, a bunch of criminals were messing up the city. The buildings saw last night seemed like a horror city. But, the buildings in the morning were clearer.

Yesterday you only had a bowl of instant noodles, so today you must have a good meal, but facing a strange city and crowds, you are really a little scared, but you have to overcome these obstacles. Since you are here, you can't rely on others.

Told yourself that you must learn to be strong. You are a very experienced ninja. How could you give in because of fear? So you took the first step. Inadvertently, a motorcycle came from the right. Thanks to him braking in time, he didn't hit you.

You were so obsessed with self-thinking that you completely forgot that you were wandering at the intersection. You subconsciously stepped back two steps from the motorcycle. If the rider hadn't stopped in time, your death record in Gotham City would be crossing the road without looking.

When the news of your death reaches the "organization", they definitely make fun of you. You will die with eyes wide open and cannot be buried in country. Calm down first, don't mess up your thoughts, and apologize to him first.

You saw him get off and push the motorcycle aside park it. You went forward to apologize. As soon as you got close, noticed that he was tall. Before you could say anything, he had taken off his helmet. His face looked very handsome, cool and stylish motorcycle, a part of his bangs is white, smooth black jumpsuit, matched with a cool leather jacket, and a pair of combat boots, the overall look is cool and atmospheric.

You noticed that his handsome face was the type of man that was pleasing to the eye, and he also had a sexy temperament. I saw Batman last night and thought he was quite mysterious and sexy, especially his lips. Are the males in Gotham City all that good looking?

"Lovey, are you okay?" You were interrupted by him when you were thinking. You panicked and hesitated about how to answer. As a ninja, you are a very confident person. But now you just an ordinary person, so you have to give a relative conclusion.

Unlike before you could easily knock people out, hide in the shadows, or scare people. Since you are an ordinary person, you should play an ordinary role. You smiled slightly to show that you are kind, and then an idea came to you, "I'm fine, sorry, I didn't look at the road when I walked."

Jason POV

I have been busy on patrolling and fighting criminals for several consecutive nights, and I don’t even have enough time to sleep. I woke up early today with a lot of resentment. I ate fast food for three meals, and I made a mistake to schedule the maintenance of the motorcycle in the early morning. I didn’t even have a little free time.

There is no point in complaining more. Work is work. The motorcycle can help me at work, and can’t ignore it. Criminals won’t wait, and I can’t take it lightly.

"Hwah~, so fucking sleepy." I yawned, changed into clean clothes, went to the garage to start the motorcycle, picked up the helmet and put it on, rode the motorcycle and left home.

Morning of Gotham City, people come and go, busy office workers, and the bustling commercial streets. People never stop but flow away one after another. I stopped at the intersection waited the traffic light to turn on.

Accidents always happen. When the traffic light turns on, I continue to drive. I see a woman suddenly walk out of the road. I brake immediately. The thrill of a moment makes me completely sober.

I parked my motorcycle aside, making sure was fine, I spoke to the woman. She said "I'm fine." From the looks of her, apart from some old injuries on her arms, there were no signs of me hitting her, she didn't ask me for compensation. I was so lucky.

But look closely, although she is wearing simple clothes, she is particularly eye-catching, with a pretty face, a slim upper body, jeans that make her legs look long, and long brown hair. She is simply beautiful.

Perhaps can be said the bad luck of several consecutive days has finally brought a good thing. I wanted to ask her out, but accidentally trespassing on the road cannot be a reason for conversation. It is really distressing. I have done everything I should care about.

What should I do?

Y/N POV

You were lucky not to be hit, but why did he keep staring at you? Did he want compensation? That would be reasonable. There will always be such people in life. They suffer even though nothing happened. Gotham City is not short of such people.

It's just like what happened during the training. It was obviously not you broke the sword, but framed by others and punished. You knelt on the stone cut bamboo with a sword every night. The person who framed you, will definitely beat him up next time you see him.

With no choice, you reached into pocket took out your wallet, wanting to give him some cash as compensation, but plans can't keep up with changes. When you opened it, there was no cash in it, only your ID, driver's license and two bank cards.

You forgot go to the ATM to collect the cash you need for daily use. You took out your phone and checked your bank account. You found that you had not yet processed the online transfer procedure. You could not use force,"Ummm,I'm sorry, I don't have any cash on me."

When he heard what you said, he immediately shook his head to indicate no. You were confused. He noticed your expression showed confusion, and hurriedly explained, " No, Lovey ,I don't mean anything else. I just want to make sure you are unharmed."

You were stunned but relieved, thankful the situation didn't develop to serious level and didn't need to be resolved by force. You hesitated for a moment and pointed to the other side, "Then I'll leave first, bye."

When you said you were leaving, he had no reason to keep you, he had to let you go. "Yeah, bye sweetie." You heard his reply and walked across the street to the other side, while he got on his motorcycle dejected and frustrated.

Jason POV

"Fuck me! Why am I such an idiot and so timid! Ask her out for breakfast! Hey, Lovey , do you want to have breakfast together..., it's so simple! Why are you so stiff!

I complained as soon as I got on the motorcycle, regretting not getting her contact number. I hadn't even started chatting her up yet, and I, Red Hood, backed off when I met a girl.

But what's the matter with the scar on her arm...

Y/N POV

You left the intersection , on the way, you smelled a faint smell of coffee. You followed the smell to a cafe. It was the smell coming from the cafe.

The smell increased your hunger, you stepped into the cafe. There were many people in a hurry, perhaps office workers. You noticed the cafe was a counter ordering place, called the number and went to pick up the food.

You hurriedly followed the line waited for your turn to order. After a few minutes, finally it was your turn. You went to the counter read the menu. The menu was accompanied by pictures for reference. You wanted to try every food, but didn't order more just to avoid wasting food.

You ordered your favorite cup of cappuccino and a simple delicious English breakfast. The waiter gave you a number card, noting you were dining indoors. You found a seat by the window and put the number card down to reserve a seat.

While waiting, you listened to the lyrical songs playing in the cafe. During that free time, you took out your phone to check the news. Sure enough, there was content about Batman arresting criminals.

"The hell?" Something caught your attention. Last night, someone filmed a video of you doing parkour on the street wearing equipment and posted it on social media. But! What is "Gotham runner"? ! The title is so shit!

Let's pause the story content and make a simple self-introduction here. My name is Y/N, code name Kitsune, I just turned 20 years old, I grew up in the organization "SHINOBI" founded in Japan.

It is an organization that trains people to have super high-level combat capabilities. "SHINOBI" is divided into two groups, SHIRO and KURO. Even are divided into two groups, everyone's work style is completely different, but the purpose is the same, which is to contribute safety of public security for the country and produce social poisons.

No matter which group, there are levels, such as S, A, B, C, D, which are called "Cyber ​​Ninja". I am a ninja in A, which belongs to the middle and high-level group. I go on missions and take a break from my busy schedule.

For some reason, I was kicked out by "SHINOBI" and exiled here. Forget it, as long as they can continue to provide equipment and money, it won't be disadvantageous to me. For the time being, I will just watch and find something I want to do.

The above is my introduction, and the details will continue from the story.

When you hear the waiter calling your number, you take the receipt to the front desk to collect the food, and go back to your seat to eat.

Knock…knock…

"Huh?" You looked out the window. It was the motorcycle guy just now! Are you kidding? Why did him chase you here? Is he following you? You let your guard down didn't even notice that you were being followed.

He knocked on the window again. He stood outside the window and talked. His lips moved as he said, "Wait for me." Then he ran into cafe and stood in front of you. His forehead was a little sweaty. He put his hands on the table and winked at you, "Hi, Lovey."

What exactly does he want to do? You can't feel any murderous intent at all. You don't understand what his intention is. Does he know your true identity? Since he is in front of you, you can't back down.

"Can I sit down?" He asked politely. You were embarrassed to refuse him, so you nodded. He moved the chair back and sat down. You took a sip of cappuccino to your mouth. You took a peek and saw that his appearance was durable.

You put down the cup and looked at him, facing him with a very optimistic attitude. "What a coincidence, you are also nearby?"

He heard your question, and this time he decided to go for it. "Hahaha, yes, my motorcycle is being maintained nearby."

You nodded slightly "So...?"

He swallowed and held out his hand "Do you mind making friends? My name is Jason. What about you?"

You were confused. What is this? A scam? You held his hand "No, hello, my name is Y/N."

After letting go of his hand, you just looked at the plate of food on the table in silence. You didn't know how to send him away, but you felt bad to send him away like this, you took the initiative to start a conversation "I just moved to Gotham City recently, and I'm not familiar with this place. It's good to make some friends."

He frowned when he heard it, and you realized that his expression was different, but soon he returned to a smile, this time he looked more confident and charming "Wow, then I have the honor to be your first friend?"

He spoke with a sweet tone accent, you have met many men, but this is the first time you have met a man with such a personality. You are unconsciously interested in him. "Haha, of course."

At the moment you laughed, Jason felt an inexplicable warmth in his heart, an unprecedented feeling. Even though he had been with many girls before, your actions were attracting him step by step. He blurted out what he wanted to say most in his heart, "Y/N...Your smile is very beautiful."

The sudden compliment made you a little overwhelmed. You didn't hate it. There was a warmth lingering in your heart. He gave you a feeling that was a little difficult to grasp, but he was not a bad person.

In a strange city, you are alone without any friends. Maybe it is a good thing to make a friend. Since you have started a new life, you should move in a new direction and not stop at the same place.

The wonderful thing is you two can chat with each other. Through Jason, you know every bit of the city. He even recommends restaurants and supermarkets near the apartment to you, which are exactly what you need to know.

When you came to Gotham City, you didn’t know much about the daily life of this city. You didn’t even know where the supermarket was. Thanks to him, you finally know it. You can go to the supermarket to buy some things in your free time later, and then go home to cook.

When Jason learned that you immigrated here from Japan, he was very surprised, and you live alone. He heard you also have a corgi. Jason likes dogs very much.

Jason POV

Actually, someone just contacted me said the motorcycle has been fixed can be picked up, but I replied it would be later, because I want to continue spend my time with her. It will be too late if I don’t seize this rare opportunity now.

I didn’t expect to have such a good chat with her. I didn’t notice how much time had passed. At first, I was really afraid I would scare her away, but she was so easy to talk to. I was glad I didn’t miss the opportunity when I met her.

Suddenly a phone rang was interrupted us. I clicked on the phone and it showed "Dickhead". I hung up the phone and continued to chat with her.

The word "Dickhead" show again, the second call. I hung up the phone impatiently. The quiet time was interrupted by the third call again. It was that "Dickhead" again.

After a while, I received several text messages…

Dickhead: Good morning, Babybird😆

I muted my phone put it on the table. A few minutes later, it suddenly vibrated. I picked up the phone and saw that it was “Boy Wonder”. Even Tim called, but I hung up.

Y/N POV

His phone kept ringing, maybe it was something urgent. You two had been chatting for a long time, and it felt like it was time to find something else to do, so you said, "Jason, if you're busy, let's talk next time."

Indeed, you talked for a long time, and the phone kept interrupting the conversation, so he turned off his phone in anger, but you didn't know when would talk again. You got up walked to the counter to ask the waiter for a piece of paper and a pen, and then put them on the table.

"What's wrong?" He was confused and looked at you blankly.

You thought and wanted to know if he would have a chance to see you again, so you took a bold try. You opened the pen cap and wrote your private phone number on the paper.

After writing, you folded the paper and put it in the front pocket of his jacket, and said "Let's keep in touch." Jason was dumbfounded and quickly took out the paper. It was your phone number. He excitedly said, "Wait for my call!" and then left the cafe.

Jason POV

I ran to pick up the motorcycle that had been maintained. When paid the bill, I confirmed the paper was still in pocket. It had your phone number. I can’t lose it, otherwise the chance to see her again would not be so easy.

I happened to want to buy breakfast today, and then I saw her sitting by the window. Without thinking, I went to the window to attract her attention. Although she looked at me with a smile on her face, I knew she were confused when I suddenly appeared out of thin air.

I leaned against the motorcycle and took out my phone to turn it on. I found a bunch of missed calls and messages from "Dickhead". I was hesitant because very difficult talk to this guy. I had no choice but to call "Dickhead" again.

"Hey, idiot Dickhead, what do you want to talk to me for?"

"Hey, Babybird! You finally answered my call! ~"

"Fuck you..." I was about to hang up the phone.

"Pleaseeeeee~"

"Did you call me back for breakfast?"

"Right! So smart!" Dick said happily, and I was annoyed...

"Go to hell, Dickhead!" I yelled at him.

"WHAT!"

"Damn, you really know how to mess things up at the right time. Don't let Tim sit in my seat." I hung up the phone.

I saved Y/N's phone number and clicked into the chat room see your profile picture was a corgi face. This was the corgi you mentioned. The description said "Hello" in Japanese. What a simple style.

Looking at your chat room, I hesitated about how to start the topic, but I still put away my phone, put on my helmet, and rode my motorcycle back to the manor first. Bruce asked Tim to investigate something, maybe I could help.

Y/N POV

You are sitting alone in a cafe, looking at your phone, but you haven't received any message from Jason, which means he is really busy. You are a little lonely. Don't think about it now. Going to the supermarket to replenish food is the most important thing.

You walk on the street and feel that this city brings a strange charm. It is a scenery you have never seen before. This can be said to be your new beginning and new life.

Occasionally, miss your previous life.Practiced as soon as you woke up. Even the rest time was only ten minutes. Three meals were carefully selected and prepared. There was no day to go out and stroll around, just stayed indoors.

Now can walk on the street with a swagger, eat and drink casually, and see the sun. Even the shadow can be seen. It is no longer a dim room. You are now on the road of light.

Now there is a foul smell of alcohol coming from behind. It is conceivable that this smell has been smelled since you left the cafe and walked a distance. You walked into the alley decided to lure the wolf into the house. You stood there motionless waiting for him to take the bait. The prey always appears as the prey.

"Hey, beauty~ Come have a drink with uncle~ I'll treat you~" Sure enough, the good times didn't last long. A strange uncle with a strong smell of alcohol stood behind you and followed you all the way to the alley, even putting his hand on your butt without any hesitation.

Originally, I just wanted to shake him off and run away, but facing such a person who is mentally confused and addicted to alcohol, the more you resist him, the more excited he will be, indicating that the problem cannot be solved in an ordinary way.

You turned around to face him and observed that he was holding a bottle of wine in his hand. If you use force to solve it, he might hit your head with the bottle. At that time, you hand it over to the police, they will be treated as mentally confused and the matter will be hastily dealt with.

You looked around to make sure that there was no one around and no surveillance. You put your hands behind so that he couldn't see your hand, you clenched your fist and hit him on the chin at lightning speed to make him lose his balance. Then he fell to the ground and fell into a short coma.

You made sure he fallen to the ground then dragged him to the side of the trash can. You leaned over and whispered in his ear, "If you touch me again, I will break both of your hands."

"Ah..." You thought of the point. It was too late for you to say that he fainted, but this kind of person deserves a lesson. If he makes the same mistake again, you can only pray that he will not meet you again, otherwise it will definitely not be as simple as fainting.

The matter is resolved, you leave the alley and walk among the crowd as a passerby. This is a habit. Ninjas always act secretly and remain vigilant and cautious no matter where they are.

Ding~

Your phone receives a message. You click into the chat room to find out. It is a report from "Gotham runner" and there is a message send by your companion "So lame, bad name." You reply "Shut up!"

Put the troubles behind continue to carry out the main task, which is go to the supermarket to buy things and fill the empty kitchen with food. No matter whether you are a ninja or an ordinary person, it is never allowed to have no snacks at home!

Chapter 2 End.

Do you hope there will be Chapter 3?

Leave a message to let me know 😁

Other Chapter

[msfcatlover]

Death Mask Steph

Oh boy. This is the big one. I've agonized over this, and getting the design right has been... ugh. Nevermind. Here we go.

Death Mask needs to draw on Red Hood and Steph designs. (I would draw from Black Mask designs, but frankly Roman's designs are all kinda boring? He's a skull-head in a suit, and basically always has been; it's simple & effective, but there's not a lot to iterate on there.) Steph's suits tend to be armored one-pieces, but layering is so crucial to most Red Hood designs, that balancing the two has been... tricky.

(I've already shared the Stephanie Brown Costume History page. Unfortunately, the n52 designs page seems to be just descriptions with no pictures, and the page for her n52 appearances doesn't give you many good angles. So here's Steph's "Future's End" & "Future State" designs, as the stand-out missing designs, in my opinion.)

The absolute vital part of any Red Hood inspired design is, of course, the helmet. It's also been the biggest pain. Jason's had some good helmet designs and a lot of bad ones over the years, and (as I've previously stated) finding a full reference page for them is basically impossible. So here's what I'm going with.

Steph starts with a sleek, sculpted black metal base. Say something like this model of Jason's Injustice helmet. The primary difference would be that Steph's helmet opens up at the front rather than the back; the faceplate would be hinged at the top of the head, and it would swing up & forwards to reveal her face.

(Using the Injustice helmet as a base because it more than most looks like it really should open from the front. I'd also say the sides would also be able to open wider, so that it can still fit snug without being a pain to get in & out of. Not that anyone would ever bother to draw that detail, but I think it would look neat opening up in 3 directions all at once.)

Next, most of the face plate is covered by a sculpted skull. This is how she invokes the whole "Death Mask" idea, as well as purposefully stealing Roman's gimmick. Below the teeth are a couple understated tubs & valves, evoking a gasmask---something like this.

(Kinda a Red X look, I'm realizing now that I'm digging through my reference folders all at once... Anyway, this piece seems to be by Laura Sheridan, but her website seems to be down, you can only buy her art seemingly 2nd hand, and I can't find this picture listed anywhere but pinterest.)

The edges, mechanical bits, and any detail work added should be done in copper.

Within the eye sockets are two recessed glowing lenses, like Jason often has, though Steph's glow a dark magenta, casting light that borders on red.

(Obviously, these lenses change size & shape to show emotion through the mask, like you do. They're not designed to---in fact, logically all the bat-masks are designed like this in order to help hide the wearer's emotions---but that's comic logic for you.)

Below the helmet, Steph's suit is mainly made up of reinforced black leather motorcycle pants, a black undersuit, and an armored vest like this.

(But black. Obviously.)

However, she accessorizes. Steph has added a decorative metal ribcage to her armor, as well was plates mimicking a spine. The ribs should be copper-colored, while the spine can be either metallic or black.

(Depending on who's drawing them, the ribs could range from purely decorative to practically another layer of armor. And following the links from pinterest, both of those artists have apparently taken their rib-art down, which is once again very disappointing.)

Steph wears a chunky utility belt which sits crooked on her hips. I personally think it should be black (maybe brown?) with either copper, ivory, or dark magenta snaps/clasps holding the pouches shut (pick one for all pouches, not a mixture). She has a gun holstered on each hip, one on each thigh, a set of throwing knives (3-5) on the front of the belt, and wears her sickle-swords strapped criss-cross on her back.

The swords themselves are made from a copper-alloy, retaining their coppery color, and easily double her reach (are about as long as one arm.) They have a hilt not dissimilar to an Egyptian khopesh, but a completely different blade; Steph's swords have a much more exaggerated curve, and crucially, they're sharpened on the inside of the crescent, where a khopesh is sharpened on the outside. They legitimately look like a crescent moon sickle, stretched out to sword size.

(Khopesh hilt, and genuinely the best crescent sickle sword I can find for what I'm picturing. Steph's would be in much better shape, obviously.)

Steph keeps it understated-but-still-stated with knee-high, buckle-up, black leather motorcycle boots.

(These are mid-calf, but it's the closest I can find that aren't completely over the top. Also, any artist who figured out how to make the laces work without losing the straps would win my unending love for the symbolism of Steph clearly still mimicking her big brother but trying so hard to hide it.)

Steph’s sleeves are armored in black metal plates, ending in sharpened black gauntlets. I don't care much about the specific structure, I just really want that clawed look.

(Shorter would be more practical for finesse work, while longer claws could be worked into her fighting style. I am going back & forth on whether this should be both arms or just one of them, because I’m a sucker for asymmetric designs, but I think it might be a bit too much with all the other details.)

Finally, over top of it all, Steph wears an uneven ivory-colored hooded shawl made of layers of thin, wispy fabric. It hangs down her back to her waist, but bunches up in the front over her collarbones. It's purposefully designed to look tangled & messy, hiding her body shape with all its bulk & fly-aways, and is flimsy enough that grabbing hold of basically any part of it will just leave you with a fist full of torn fabric.

This is the hardest to find examples for, but... okay, so it's shaped roughly like this:

(If anyone can find the non-pinterest source for this one, I'd hugely appreciate it; all I'm getting is a dead twitter link.)

It's layered like these:

And it's made from material like this:

(This definitely gets swapped out for either a white scarf or a brown trench coat pretty regularly, just because those are easier to wrap your head around/draw. I think both could work & be cool, but Steph is trying to give off “undead vibes” with this original costume, and this gives her a more ghostly look which… okay, is heavily inspired by this Jason design.)

Also, Steph's hair is still long, but she ties it up in either a french or dutch braid before going out most of the time. Dutch is for going out in public or to the gym, where she'll lift it off her neck in a ponytail, french then gets coiled into a bun inside of her helmet.

(I am undecided on whether or not she also has an undercut.)

[copious-zygomaticus]

You sly dog, you got me monologuing! Anyways, I think I’m gonna be writing more Obey Me oneshots cause I have NASTY FREAK BRAINROT. Also because I have ideas that have to exist because they’re too good and my brain is huge. Uhh, anyways- TAKE THAT!

I’m Your Turbo Lover

Characters: Solomon x MC x Asmodeus

Reader Insert Pronouns: He/They

Dynamic: Polyamorous Romantic.

Summary: After a long day of classes, the Devildom’s most fashionable triad gets ready for date night at a fancy restaurant. Your boyfriends are not mentally prepared for the rev of your motorcycle and your hardcore getup.

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Nothing!

The moon shone brightly on metal street lamps and store signs as the sound of a twinkling voice and a cool laugh filled the air. You see, Asmodeus and Solomon were walking together under a star dotted sky to Ristorante Six for date night with the triad. Asmodeus was all dressed up in a flowing pastel pink silk dress shirt with ruffled bell sleeves and cream-colored pants trapped by a decorative vested corset in matching colors. His face was truly a vision with pearlescent shimmering eyeshadow that darkened at the edges with a peach pink eyeshadow that framed his eyeliner detailed eyes. Asmo formed quite the divine image with Solomon, who had his white hair slightly tossed atop of body clad in loose black pants that were tied at the waist over a slightly unbuttoned deep velvety purple button down shirt which complimented his usual galaxy cape. Solomon’s dark eyes were swirling with a rainbow sheen, like an oil spill from the heavens. And yet you were no where to be seen, because you had told your boyfriends that you were arriving separately due to an “incoming surprise from the human realm”. They brushed it off as casual personal business, but their nonchalant demeanor could not prepare them for what they were about to see.

The arrival of this “surprise” had been a long time coming. You see, after your time in the exchange program, you inevitably moved to take permanent residence in the Devildom with your boyfriends. Since moving, it has been quite the struggle to drag all of your belongings to hell. Especially your pride and joy, your V2 Bayliss 1st Championship 20th Anniversary Ducati Panigale motorcycle.

Despite Barbatos’ portal opening skills, getting your precious speed bike through the portal proved to be an insanely difficult task along with a hesitance caused by a fear of the portal scratching it up. But after a few months, tonight was the night that your diesel prince was finally returned to your side in the Devildom. During the wait, you were able to get your motorcycle license approved to use in the Devildom, meaning that once those wheels hit the ground, you were ready to ride. And oh how eager you were to ride again.

As the clock struck just the right hour, you donned your matte black riding helmet, flicking the silver reflective visor down over your shinning eyes. Throwing a heavy black steel-toed leg over the seat of the panigale, you felt the leather of your pants hug your thighs with an exhilarating pressure. Excitement only ramped up as you started your metallic beast, kicking the start on and letting the sweet deep rumble reverberate against the external walls of the infamous House of Lamentation. Keys jingling against your belt chains, you fit your boot under the curve of the kickstart to shift into first gear before you cranked the radio’s volume to its limit and rode into the eternal night. There was something about this two-stroke engine that made you whole and gave you life as the wind whipped across your studded leather jacket that had “Hells Bells” with a decorative upside down cross embroidered across the back.

As street lights flew past you, you breathed in the cool night air and narrowed your eyes as you crept upon your target, the infamous Ristorante Six.

Solomon’s P.O.V

“Ugghhh where’s MC?? We’re gonna be late to our reservationssss,” Asmodeus dramatically groaned next to me while he fussed with the strands of my hair that fell on my face. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but I know that he’s just scared of being left behind and that makes him a little nervous about date nights. Being worshiped for his looks certainly did something to his brain over the years, but I would never verbalize something we all knew that didn’t need to be said. I slipped his face between my hands, “they’re on their way Asmo, just wait a spell. We are not going to be late, and even if we were, there is no doubt that your charms couldn’t get us all a table dear.” His warm peach eyes darted to swipe motionlessly across my lips before pouting jokingly and looking into the night sky.

We shared a comfortable silence as Asmodeus tapped away at his D.D.D screen on Devilgram, my arms wrapped across his chest and my chin perched atop his head. The demon grumbled about messing up his hair before relenting and going about his digital business. That silence was quickly interrupted as a new sound entered the night, a distinct vehicular rumbling. I thought nothing of it until it raced closer, becoming more loud and unavoidable. I gazed out towards the street and Asmo even flicked a gaze upwards before they caught on the culprit: a quickly approaching red motorcycle.

“My my, that looks expensive,” Asmodeus chirped as he imagined an endless possibility of photo shoot, and extracurricular, opportunities for a motorcycle. I chuckled lightly, “you almost sound like Mammon.”

That certainly earned me an earful as my comment caused Asmo to scoff pointedly and rang about how he was nothing like his greedy brother. As he talked, my eyes landed on the motorcyclist who had parked across the street. They appeared to be taking off leather riding gloves, strapping them to a carabiner on a heavy layered belt chain that adorned their pants. I couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but there was something so enticing about this mystery person. After not responding for a while, Asmodeus noticed my silence and followed my gaze to the leather-clad man across the street, letting out a small gasp before he turned and grabbed my shoulders with a face of excitement.

“Solomon~ you dirty dog, we’re waiting for our boyfriend and you’re looking at other men!” Asmodeus cooed jokingly with narrowed seductive eyes. I scoffed lightly at the comment, the polyamorous nature of Asmo, MC, and myself being a well known fact across the Devildom and multiple magazine spreads.

“I know I’m partial to a bad boy, but I didn’t expect as much from you darling~” Asmodeus turned back around to face the motorcyclist that had began walking towards the restaurant before his jaw visibly dropped to let out a loud gasp.

“What? What happen-” I looked back towards the mystery man to find him shaking out his hair from his helmet. He wasn’t a mystery man at all. It was-

“MCCCC~~!!” Asmodeus kept forward into MC’s arms despite one of them being occupied by his motorcycle helmet. I literally couldn’t believe it. Well, it’s not totally off the mark considering the band t-shirts and the heavy metal music MC adored, but I had never considered this possibility… how fascinating, how enticing.

“You never told us you were a biker,” I ask as I slink towards my boyfriends.

MC scratched the side of his head, “well I kind of wanted it to be a surprise! And besides, I felt weird saying I ride without any bike as proof you know?”

There was a streak of grease on MC’s face, right below his glittering eyes. I stepped in closer and licked my thumb, teasing him for showing up to such a fancy restaurant with a dirty face, which in turn made their face warm up with a soft pink hue.

“We have plenty proof you can ride sweet thing~” Asmodeus quips back quickly, only darkening our poor boyfriend’s blush that clashed yet complimented the shine of the black leather jacket that adorned his body.

“Down boy, we’re in public,” MC says as he scoffs, doing a very poor job at hiding his embarrassment behind his rough appearance and the hair he shook to cover his face.

I then stepped behind MC, putting my hands on his shoulder blades and rubbing his spine lightly. I paused for a second and chuckled lightly, “Does that say fucking ‘Hells Bells’ on your jacket?”

“Shut up Solomon, shady bitch,” MC grumbled and put his hands over face, trapping his hair between his hands and the saturated pink of his face.

Asmodeus giggled at his boyfriends before looking at the time on his phone, “it’s time for our reservations!!” I felt a warm slender hand intertwine with my fingers as I looked up at Asmo who had grabbed my hand, finding that he slipped his other hand into MC’s. As we were pulled into the sparkling restaurant light and delicate piano moment, I looked at MC and Asmodeus, and I knew in my soul that I had found my home after all these centuries. Both of my boyfriends are so full of surprises, what a beautiful thing.

Sorry if Solomon’s a bit ooc, I suck ass at writing for Solomon, but that’s okay cause I like his mischievous wiles. Anyways this was super self indulgent if you couldn’t tell because I’m a big motorcycle guy myself, I miss flat track racing. Tell me if yall want more biker MC or alternative MC fics because I WILL be writing more of them and if yall got something in mind I would love to hear any ideas 🙏

[gothgoblinbabe]

Marlboro Red 100's (pt.1)

Daryl Dixon x FemReader

Modern/no apocalypse/no walkers AU

Word Count: 3765

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, fluffy-lovey-dovey crap, suggestive-ish, swearing, mention of slight age gap but no ages specified

(Pt.2)

A/N: This is like my second ever one shot I've posted to Tumblr pls enjoy and don't rip me to shreds <3

-------------

1:30 to 2:00

2:00 to 3:00

Then 3:30 to 4:00

4:00 to 5:00

5:00 to 6:00

Your shift dragged on and on the more you glanced at the clock, watching the hands circle around and around, painfully slow. Six more hours. You could do six more hours of this, right? Monotonously scanning items and cashing out customers, fixing displays, cleaning spills, scrubbing toilets, checking inventory; all the wonders of being a minimum wage employee at a gas station corner store. Overworked and underpaid, a sentiment shared by many.

There’s handfuls of regulars at any retail store. Some are pleasant and will make small talk with you, asking about your life or commenting on the weather. Others, not so much. Men can be creepy and some people will share every detail of their life with you, whether you want to hear it or not.

There’s rare times, though, when there's a customer that you actually have genuine interest in talking to. Like today.

The door chime rang out through the desolate store, causing you to repeat your usual “Hi, how’re you?” and turn your gaze from your shift paperwork up to the front door. 

There stood a man, broad shoulders and shoulder length, dark hair. He wore dark jeans, heavy-looking boots and a leather vest over a flannel that had the sleeves torn off. His tan, muscular hands and arms were covered in what looked like motor oil. He wiped them on a red rag he took from his back pocket, shaking his hair out of his eyes. 

“Hey,” his voice was low and gruff with a bit of a southern accent, “you got a bathroom I could use?”

He raised his arms, showing you the mess on his large hands.

“Yeah, uh, right in the back, to the left.” you stammered, gesturing towards the back of the building.

You’d probably die before you told anyone this, but the whole hot mechanic look some guys came in with really got you going. Not often is there a good looking guy that comes in that you drool over, but every now and then there would be a mechanic or a construction guy or a painter who just looks dirty and you wanted them dirtier. It was weird, you didn't know why, but maybe it was just the idea that they weren't afraid to get their hands dirty, literally.

You watched this one walk to the back, eyes on his biceps. Oh, how you’d like to be nearly crushed between them. 

Seriously, being here so long with so little to do makes your mind wander just about anywhere and everywhere and half of what you did during your shift was daydream.

When he disappeared into the men’s room, you leaned against the cigarette wall behind the register, eyes scanning the parking lot outside the window. It was almost abandoned, except for an older man pumping gas into his Subaru and a worn-looking Harley Davidson motorcycle propped up out front.

“Of course he rides a motorcycle,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head with a little grin. He definitely seemed the type.

“Say somethin’, sweet ‘eart?” his voice startled you from your thoughts, noticing he’d already washed his hands and was now standing up against the counter.

You couldn’t help the light blush creeping across your face at the nickname, shaking your head and pointing outside, “just sayin’ I like your bike.”

You blinked at him from behind the register, watching his eyes almost light up at the mention of his prized possession. You could feel your heart beating faster at the scent of his cologne mixed with a little gasoline.

“Ain’t she beautiful? Just got done workin’ on ‘er, made a mess but it’s always worth it.” He grinned, glancing out the window at his bike.

“You new ‘round here? I’ve never seen you before,” you decided to blurt out, “think I’d remember ya’.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Not many new people come through here, is all.” you lied, so many different faces slid through every day, but you’d remember his because you’d think about it later with your hands between your thighs.

“Huh,” he hummed, “can I get a pack of the Marlboro red 100’s, darlin’?”

You nodded, turning around and reaching on your tiptoes to grab the pack of cigarettes from the top shelf. Had you been able to feel the way the man’s eyes traveled down from the top of your head to your heels, you would’ve melted into a puddle right there.

“Anythin’ else?” you asked, placing the cigarettes on the counter top.

“One more thing,” he said, handing you a twenty dollar bill, “what’s your name?”

You pointed to the name tag fastened to your shirt and he read it outloud, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

‘’I’m Daryl Dixon. And yeah, I’m new ‘round here. I’ll be back in though, you’ll see more of me.”

“You gonna be a regular?” you asked, crossing your arms and once again leaning against the wall of cigarettes after you handed him his change and closed the drawer.

“Hope so, only If i see more a’ you.” 

You rolled your eyes and tried to bite down the smile on your lips, failing miserably. 

“Uh-huh, I’m always here, Daryl Dixon,” You teased, letting his name roll off your tongue.

“Then I’ll be back for sure.” He flashed a sweet smile, tapped his hand on the counter and turned to leave. 

Once he was out the door, you watched him mount his bike, raking his hands through his hair and kicking up the side stand. As he pulled away, you felt the butterflies still flutter in circles in your stomach, your thoughts still focused on him.

You would see him again. It would be Daryl’s ritual to come in every Friday afternoon for a pack of Marlboro Red 100 cigarettes and sometimes a lighter. Truth was, even if his pack wasn’t empty yet, he’d still stop in every Friday afternoon just to see your pretty face and to watch you stretch the top shelf, his eyes raking over your shape. Jesus, he wanted you so badly it almost hurt, but he had no idea how to approach you about it, he didn’t even know much about you. Small things, like your family stuff and what you did for fun, but nothing much else. To make matters worse, he had to be at least 20 years older than you. What would you want with an old man like him?  

Was he really old? 

No, but he felt like it. 

Except for when he was lost in conversation with you.

 Every time he saw you, he felt as though there was no divide and you could’ve known each other years before, old friends meeting up every Friday for a couple months straight. He’d ask questions about you, what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, favorite song, movies, foods, anything he could learn about you, he absorbed like a dry sponge tossed into water. You’d always return the questions, ask him the same, and make mental notes of the answers, the same way he was.

On one sunny, dry, hot Friday afternoon, the door chimed and in walked your favorite regular, Daryl Dixon.

“Hey, honey,” He grinned your way, but instead of walking towards the counter as usual, he turned towards the cooler in the back.

“What, no cigarettes?” you pretended to be shocked, hand over your heart.

‘’I’m gettin’ a drink, hot as shit out there,” he replied, shaking his head and disappearing momentarily behind one of the shelves.

You smiled and rolled your eyes just as the door chimed again, another customer walking in. 

He was a short, scrawny guy who couldn't have been more than a couple years older than you. You said your usual greeting and he ignored you, walking up to the counter and simply stating a brand of cigarettes you assumed he wanted. Daryl got in line behind him just as you turned around and bent slightly to grab the pack of cigarettes on the lowest shelf.

From behind you, you heard a whistle.

You snapped back up, looking back and glaring at the asshole. He was chuckling to himself.

“Aw, c’mon, it was a compliment, baby, you got blessed back there,’’ He laughed.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, tossing the cigarettes onto the counter and swiping the scanner over them.

“What was that, babe?” He raised his eyebrows.

Daryl looked like he was about to explode, piping up from behind the guy, “you heard what she said, why don’t ‘cha? Fuck off.”

He nearly spat his words, seconds away from stepping between this douchebag and the counter.

“I ain’t gonna let no bitch talk to me like that,” He snarled, swiping the cigarettes off the counter.

‘’Alright, that’s it,” Daryl placed his drink on the counter and slid it to you, “hold that, sweetheart, okay?” before turning to the other man.

‘’Fuck you think you are, talkin’ to a lady like that? She ain’t no bitch, that’s you. Get the fuck on outta’ here.” He spat, roughly grabbing the younger man by the collar of his t-shirt and shoving him towards the door.

‘’She ain’t no lady-” the guy started, back to the door, but Daryl cut him off.

“She’s every bit a’ one, now get the hell out and leave ‘er alone before I kick your fuckin’ teeth in.” 

The guy tried to walk forward, but Daryl shoved him out through the door, onto the pavement. He scrambled up, seemingly too embarrassed to walk back in, and sped off. Daryl picked up the cigarettes from the floor where the guy had dropped them when he was shoved the first time and gently placed them onto the counter.

‘’You alright, honey? I’m sorry ‘bout him, fuckin’ asshole.”

You were just about breathless, a pit in your stomach and a tingle in your chest. You’d hate to admit it to yourself but the way he had defended you turned you on to almost no end. Your heart was beating a million times a minute, deafening in your ears as you blinked at his baby blue eyes.

You almost couldn’t speak, “ ‘m fine.”

“You sure?”

‘’Y-yeah, thank you.”

“Ain’t gotta thank me for nothin’, I’d never let some prick talk to ya’ like that.”

“Daryl?”

You had a bad idea, it was definitely bad and there's no way he’d say yes but your tongue was on a route that your brain couldn’t stop.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, leaning on his forearms on the counter, so engaged in anything and everything you had to say.

Which made things so much worse for you.

“What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you busy?” you blurted.

Oh, this could be so, so bad.

“What?” He replied, steading himself to stand straight. 

Okay, yeah, bad.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I-”

“No, no, sorry for what? I ain’t busy tomorrow night, what were you gonna say?”

Daryl looked intrigued, if not a little confused.

“It was stupid, I was gonna ask if you, um, If you’d wanna maybe have dinner or somethin’. Like a date.” You managed to get out, picking at your fingernails with anxiety.

“I ain’t too old for ‘ya?” was the first thing from his mouth after a moment of tense silence.

“Too old?” you questioned, tilting your head, “I’m an adult, Daryl. You can’t be too old for me.”

He sighed, grinning and rubbing the back of his neck as relief filled his body.

“When you want me to pick you up, sweetheart?”

You smiled wide, feeling giddy like this was your very first date all over again.

“Let’s do six o’clock? Here, I’ll give you my address,” you find a piece of a scrapped receipt and scribble your address and phone number, handing it over to him.

He gladly accepts it, folding it and placing it in his jeans pocket.

Before you know it, it’s six o’clock the next evening and you're focused on yourself in the mirror. You’d worn your favorite outfit and done your hair, waiting anxiously for the doorbell.

At five minutes past six, it rang.

You excitedly scurried to the door, opening it to see a slightly nervous Daryl Dixon in his leather vest and flannel button down. 

He shook his hair out of his eyes to get a better look at you, making note of every curve and dip that made his head spin.

“You look…real, real pretty,” He managed to mumble out, having a hard time keeping his eyes on yours.

“You do, too,” you teased, stepping out into the evening air and closing the door behind you.

You followed Daryl to his motorcycle, your stomach turning with nerves.

“So where we headin’ off to?” you inquired, watching his broad shoulders in front of you.

“ ‘s a surprise. Figured I outta’ do somethin’ special for a girl like you.”

You blushed, shaking your head and only giggling in response.

“You alright gettin’ on the bike?” He asked sweetly, placing a gentle hand on your elbow.

You could melt under his calloused touch, instinctively leaning your body towards him.

“I should be alright, I think. Just never been on one before,” you caught your lower lip between your teeth.

He noticed the small nervous gesture, reaching over his bike and handing you the single helmet.

“You’re safe with me, alright? Hold on real tight and don’t let go, trust me, ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you,' ' He reassured you.

You hesitated for a moment before tugging the helmet on and letting Daryl help you on the motorcycle behind him. You wrapped your arms tight around his abdomen, leaning your weight on his back.

He was glad you were behind him so you couldn’t see the shade of pink his cheeks had turned or the way he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried. You were significantly smaller in stature than he was and he adored the way your smaller arms wrapped tight around him.

“You ready, honey?” He kicked the side stand up, rearing the engine of the bike.

“Sure am, sugar,” You shot back.

His smile grew wider as you both started forward, wind through your clothes sending a light chill through you. The hum of the bike filled your ears as you watched your shadows dance upon the pavement, cast by the late afternoon sun.

Before you knew it, Daryl slowed the bike to a stop and turned to speak to you.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Nah,” you tried to act nonchalant, though your heart was beating like crazy as you handed him the helmet back, “it was fun.”

“So you’ll let me take ya’ out on it again?” 

“Well, I’ll have to if we’re gonna go on any more dates, huh?”

Daryl smiled at your quick response, hopping off the bike and helping you do the same.

You checked out your surroundings, a green and desolate park, open lawns with freshly mowed grass and large oak and willow trees.

“You take me here to kill me?” you joked, watching a dragonfly hover over the cement near your feet.

“Nah, cmon,” Daryl chuckled, waving his hand to motion you to follow him, “got somethin’ set up for ya’. Hope you don’t think it’s stupid, I ain’t ever really…’guess I’ve never been on a real date before, so I, uh…I don’t know, hope you like it, is all.”

His nervous babbling as you followed in his direction into the field of grass made you smile wide. 

“I’m sure whatever you got up your sleeve is -”

Words failed to form as you saw what he was leading you to. A blanket was laid out under the shade of a beautifully full weeping willow tree. Containers of all sorts of delicious foods were spread out along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Oh, Daryl, you did all this? For me?”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss him right there for being so damn sweet.

“Of course, for you,” Daryl smiled, taking a seat on the blanket and tapping the empty space next to him, “what other sweet lady would I do this for?”

You couldn’t hide the large smile spread across your face as you plopped yourself down next to him, taking in the array of foods.

“Wow, this is…you really out did yourself. This is perfect.” you assured him, taking note of the way he was scanning your features to see what you thought of his gesture.

“Think so? Just wanted to make it ‘nice as I could.” 

“Perfect, all of it.” You smiled and opened a container of strawberries, popping one in your mouth and offering some to Daryl.

He took one appreciatively, doing the same.

You had a mischievous idea and picked up a strawberry, offering it to Daryl, “Now is this the part of the date where you feed me strawberries like in the movies?”

You thought he’d laugh, shake off your joke in slight rejection and change the subject.

Instead, he gently took the fruit from your fingers, hovering it in front of your lips.

‘’Yeah? Go ahead.”

Your stomach did back flips and you could’ve sworn it tied itself in knots at his words.

Daryl was glad you didn’t seem to notice the way his hand started to shake.

You leaned in, slowly, and caught the fruit between your teeth. You kept your eyes on his as you bit down, pulling away to wipe the juice from your lips.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, that was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced in his life and he immediately went for the wine to calm his nerves. 

You watched him uncork the wine in his lap, noticing the slight bulge in the front of his jeans as he tried to hide it with the bottle, though it didn’t do much.

The way you had to do almost nothing but exist in his presence to make him excited had you biting down a smile, watching his hair fall in front of his face as he finally uncorked the bottle. As he poured your glass, you reached a delicate hand forward and brushed the hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. His eyes shot up to yours, lost in the way the sun hit them and made the color even more stunning.

You were beautiful, ethereal, an angel on earth he had been blessed to be touched by.

And you made him spill the wine.

“S-shit, sorry, I shoulda’ been lookin’, too distracted,” He laughed a little, glancing at the stain of red wine on the blanket.

‘’Distracted with what?” You teased, grabbing the bottle from his hands to pour him his own glass.

“How am I supposed to pay attention when there’s a pretty girl like you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m just lookin’ at you!” You giggled, going to hand him his wine glass.

“Like that!” he exclaimed with a smile, gesturing with his free hand as he took the glass from you, “with them beautiful damn eyes and that pretty smile and that gorgeous face, drivin’ me damn near insane.”

“Oh, please, you say it to flatter me,” you shook your head and laughed, taking a sip from your glass.

  “Nah, but if you wanna feel flattered, I’ll sure keep tryin’,” He said, doing the same, “but it ain’t flattery if it’s true.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and had another snack. Daryl sat back against the tree and watched you intently, your lips, nose, jaw, hair, hands, every bit of you. 

“You wanna know somethin’?” He said, gaining your attention.

“Hm?”

“I don’t really go through a pack of smokes a week. I just come in every Friday to see you. I like seein’ your pretty face and I like seein’ you reach up to grab ‘em from the top shelf. It’s cute.”

It felt like he knocked the wind right out of you. He really was too damn sweet.

“And I like talkin’ to ya’, like knowin’ more about ya’. Could talk to you for hours.” he added in admission, smiling in adoration at you.

It was almost too much. 

“Daryl?”

He sat up, leaning towards you, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you to kiss me,” you sighed, watching his eyes change, “please, kiss me.”

He wasted no time in placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck and connecting his lips with yours. His lips were soft against yours and tasted of strawberries and wine and cigarettes. His breathing was soft against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, placing his other hand on your waist and absentmindedly tracing circles with his fingers. Your hands were both in his hair, twirling his locks around your fingers. You both eventually broke apart to gaze at each other, breathless and giddy like teenagers.

“I like you a lot, Daryl.” you admitted, again playing with his hair. He leaned into your touch.

“I like you more.” He smiled, fingers still tracing patterns on your waist.

“Oh, you wanna start that fight?” you teased.

“Only if we can make up at the end,” He smiled.

You kissed him again, this time adjusting yourself to be nearly square on his lap. His breathing hitched and he gazed up at you, swiping gently at the hair that had fallen in front of your face.

“Show me how much you like me.” Was all you had to say to have Daryl’s tongue in your mouth, swiping lovingly and softly. 

His hands caressed from your shoulder blades down your back to the sides of your hips, kneading your thighs while you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away just an inch to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, biting and sucking softly, earning small mews and moans from you. You mumbled his name in ecstacy, making him groan against your neck. He continued to kiss back up your neck and jaw to once again meet your mouth, using one hand on the back of your neck to keep you as close against him as you could get.

When you two finally broke away from each other, reluctantly, neither of you could wipe the smiles from your faces.

It was no surprise then, when he dropped you home later and walked you to your door, that you both agreed to a second date.

-------------

wooooo pt2 coming eventually!

[bellaxgiornata]

Safe Haven [Chapter Fifteen]

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.6k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains violence, drug use, domestic abuse, smut, hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, friends to lovers

a/n: Finally y'all get that meeting with the Serpents and a protective and angry Mikey in this chapter. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @loveroftoomanyfandoms @farfromstrange @rotscinema @1988-fiend @shouldbestudying41 @shiorimakibawrites @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattmurdocksstarlight @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @theetherealbloom @24hflower @mattmurdocksscars @schneeflocky @the-nursery @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989

Fingers wrapped around the handle of the gun still concealed in your parka's pocket, the cold metal of it in your hand felt like a comfort as you ascended the large hill just on the outskirts of Dublin. A quick glance over your shoulder allowed you to see the glowing lights of the city just behind you. Somehow that also felt comforting right now.

Dotser had dropped you off just a bit away from the base of the hill where the meeting was taking place in an attempt to remain hidden so the Serpents didn’t know you hadn’t actually come alone. Which had surprisingly taken more coaxing on your part to get him to listen to you than expected–apparently Birdy had made it clear nothing was supposed to happen to you under his care. So he’d argued with you about going up there alone and inevitably had you late for this meeting, but as you finally reached the top of the large hill, there was admittedly a part of you that felt better knowing he was nearby–even if you knew he was too far to truly help. Because even you weren’t stupid enough to think that you weren’t on your own handling whatever happened next here.

“Wondered if ya would show.”

You froze at the accented voice, your hand curling tighter around the gun in your pocket as your heart jumped in your chest. Trying your hardest to remain calm, your eyes focused on the figure emerging from around the single, lone motorcycle parked in the open field. The moonlight glinted off of something in the man’s hand as you saw him swiftly raise it from his side. By the time the realization that he had a gun had dawned on you, it was already too late. The weapon was trained on you, right on your chest. You felt fear flood your veins, your mouth suddenly dry. 

But he was alone. And judging by the few patches on his cut–the leather vest all MC members wore–he didn’t appear to rank in the charter. That was possibly the only good news right now. 

“You didn’t give me much choice,” you replied.

Your eyes followed his movements carefully, watching as he gradually approached you. He was studying you closely in return, his eyes clearly surveying you from top to bottom. You only hoped you could continue to keep the gun in your pocket concealed from him. You didn’t want to know what he would do if he noticed it.

“Hands out o’ your pockets,” he ordered, gesturing his gun at you. “And slowly. Don’ try anythin’ with me.”

Inhaling a deep, quivering breath, your hand gradually released its hold on the gun in your pocket. You felt like you could hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as your hands very slowly slipped out of your jacket, the chill of the night hitting them instantly. Even if you could still feel the heft of the gun noticeably weighing your jacket down, it felt vastly less comforting with your finger so far from the trigger.

The man continued to approach you, casually closing the distance between the pair of you like a snake stalking its prey. He was sizing you up, his gun still firmly pointed at your chest. You fought the urge to cower or look away from him–you didn’t want to give him any further of an advantage against you. Didn't want to show him the fear you felt. 

When his eyes eventually landed back on your face, he spoke your name. Your actual name, not the fake one you’d been using here. Jaw clenching at the sound of it, you fought hard to keep your composure. If he knew your name, you suddenly had a lot of questions that needed answers. How had he found out? Had he alerted Victor yet? Why was he asking you to meet him? Especially considering he was alone and seemed to be operating outside of the MC. 

You had questions and you needed answers if you wanted to stay alive, but the only way to get them would be to keep a level head. It wasn’t like you hadn’t dealt with trigger-happy outlaw bikers before. You could handle this. You had to.

“That’s who ya are, yeah?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered.

He nodded, coming to a stop just in front of you. He pressed the barrel of his gun into your chest, shoving the end of it sharply into your sternum. You only straightened your back and held his stare in response, even if internally you were terrified of what he might do. You knew he was trying to intimidate you, and truthfully it was working, but if you let it show, then he had the upper hand. And you couldn’t have that.

"Ya are Michael Kinsella's bitch, yeah?" the man asked.

Unable to hide your confusion and shock at his unexpected question, your brows rose high onto your forehead, a frown settling along your lips. How could he have known you had been somewhat seeing Michael? And what the hell would the Serpents want with him?

You needed to tread carefully.

"What're–"

The Serpent shoved the gun harder into your chest, cutting you off immediately as he lowered his face to yours. You swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tremble from your lips.

"That was a yes or a no question," he growled. "Are ya fuckin' the Kinsella or no?"

Technically you weren't fucking him yet, but you didn't think he cared about technicalities. It seemed like he already knew the answer, too, especially considering he must've known you lived right next door to Michael since he’d slipped something into your sister’s letterbox for you to find. 

"Yes," you answered. 

"Thought as much when I saw ya both walkin' around the city together," he said with a nod. 

Your mind raced, trying hard to piece everything together. There were only two times you and Michael had gone walking anywhere together, which meant…

"It was you," you stated, the realization hitting you. "You were the one tailing us. In the hoodie."

"Figured ya saw me," he replied. "Wasn't supposed to be there or I'd have taken my shot at him. But I was curious 'bout ya when I saw ya with him," he continued. "Thought I might find out who the bitch was that Michael Kinsella was seein'. See if ya could be the bait to lure him out."

Your lips parted in surprise at his words, panic building even further inside of you. Was he trying to use you for bait to lure Michael out to kill him right now? Had you unknowingly just walked into something?

"Yeah, ya see, that was my first thought," he continued, grinning when he saw the look of fear on your face. "But then I looked into ya. Saw who ya really are." 

He barked out a harsh laugh, the noise causing you to flinch. The faint glow from the moon above and the city lights behind you cast just enough light onto his face allowing you to see the dark, shadowy expression there. He looked more dangerous now than he had a few minutes ago.

"The Mother charter's missin’ cunt," he said with a sharp laugh. "Right here in Dublin. Imagine my surprise when I found that out. Runnin' from Victor? The Viper ? Ahh, 's’just too good."

"What do you want?" you asked him.

His smile faltered at your question, his eyes narrowing threateningly back at you. The man's lip curled up into a sneer as he pressed the barrel of the gun more firmly into your chest.

"I want ya to give me Michael in exchange for keepin’ your secret," he snapped back. "For now, at least. Might be useful for me to hang onto for a bit." 

"Why do you want him?" you asked carefully. 

The Serpent barked out another sharp laugh. You stood there entirely still, incredibly aware of the gun bruising the space along your sternum. 

“Ya fuckin’ daft?” he asked. “Eamon wants them all dead–especially Michael. He put out a special bounty for The Magician.”

Your frown deepened at the nickname you’d unearthed for Michael when you’d been digging up dirt on the Kinsellas the other week. But what the Serpent said had made sense. Birdy had told you the Cork charter might be looking to get into smuggling and dealing, and apparently Eamon was the main supplier in Ireland. They wanted an in, and Eamon wanted the Kinsella’s dead. It was a perfect opportunity, really.

Eyes dropping down to the front of the man’s cut, you noticed he had a single patch. The singular patch every Serpent member had. It meant he wasn’t a prospect, but he wasn’t necessarily someone that mattered. Gradually your eyes slid back up to his face, your mind piecing things together quickly.

“You’re here on your own,” you said slowly. “Hoping to take Michael Kinsella for yourself to please your President. You want rank.”

“Doesn’ fuckin’ matter, does it?” he shot back. 

“It means they don’t know who I am, do they?” you asked him, feeling a little bolder the more you spoke. “None of the others know I’m here, because if they did, they’d have already alerted Victor. And you haven’t told Victor I’m here because then you’d lose your chance of making a name for yourself with the Serpents. Because wouldn’t you look like hot shit taking out Michael Kinsella and in turn winning the Serpents Ireland’s biggest supplier?”

Something flickered across the man’s face in the dark, his back straightening. “Think ya have it all figured out, d’ya?” he growled. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but before a single word came out, the Serpent lifted the gun from where he’d had it pressed against your chest. With a solid thwack he slammed the butt of the gun upside your temple. White flashed across your eyes as you cried out, searing pain shooting through your head. Your body crumpled in half as you stumbled a few steps backwards. Eyelids fluttering, you tried to regain your balance, struggling not to fall on your knees before him.

“I’m not fuckin’ playin’ here,” he warned. “I’ll give ya a couple o’ days, but I want ya to bring me Michael.”

He pulled something out of his coat pocket and threw it at you. The object hit you in the shin, bouncing off of you and falling into the grass before you. You groaned, a hand flying to your head where he’d struck you. Immediately you winced, pain shooting through your skull. Something warm and wet met your fingertips–you had to have been bleeding. 

Sluggishly your gaze dropped down to what he’d tossed at you. It looked like a small flip phone.

“Ya get Michael alone somewhere, ya text me on that burner phone,” he ordered. “If ya don’, I tell Victor and all the other Serpents in Cork that you’re here. If I smell a trap, I tell Victor and all the other Serpents in Cork that you’re here. If ya try to pull anythin’ with me–try to disappear on me?” 

His hand darted out, gripping a fistful of your hair and yanking your head upwards, forcing your eyes to meet his as you yelped in surprise. A dangerous smile was spread across his lips.

“I think ya fuckin’ know what I’ll do,” he told you. “Ya got three days, and that’s me bein’ generous. Don’ fuck it up.”

Forcefully he flung you to the ground, his grip releasing your hair as he did. Your hands scrambled out in front of you, trying to catch yourself as you fell forward onto the grass. Heart violently thundering in your chest, you stayed like that on all fours as you heard the sound of the lone motorcycle rumble to life. Your eyes closed when you heard him rev the engine, fingers curling around the blades of grass. 

A few moments later, you heard the bike tear off with a roar, the noise steadily disappearing into the night. When silence finally met your ears, you collapsed to the ground, tears burning at your eyes and racing down your cheeks. No longer needing to try to look brave, you let yourself cry in the grass. 

What a fucking mess you’d wound up in now. You had three days to deliver Michael to that nameless Serpent. Which of course meant he was going to kill him, though obviously there was no way you were going to let that happen. But clearly anything deviating from that–if you ran, or if the three days were up, or you had the Kinsellas’ try to take the Serpent out–you’d have the entire Cork charter after you along with Victor on his way to Dublin. And that meant you’d be putting Megan in danger. And Michael. Possibly Birdy and the others.

What the hell were you supposed to do? You would never give up Michael, but you didn’t want to be thrown to Victor, either. He’d only hurt you before he inevitably killed you. And he’d probably find a way to drag it out and make you wish he’d get it over with. That thought alone had you curling in on yourself in the grass, tears pouring down your cheeks even faster.

In the distance, you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle gradually roaring nearer. The sound shot a spike of adrenaline through you, the familiar rumble causing you to sit bolt upright in the grass, one hand flying to your forehead as the world around you briefly spun at the movement. You winced in pain, removing your hand from your forehead as you tried to focus in on the noise of the bike. It sounded like it was coming from the opposite direction of where the Serpent had just left; it was coming from down where you knew Dotser was waiting for you. 

Had the Serpent circled back?

Carefully you rose to your feet, pocketing the burner phone and blinking rapidly when your vision briefly blurred and you’d once again become dizzy. You stumbled forward, having to quickly catch your balance as a hiss of pain shot through your teeth. Recovering seconds later, you stuffed your hand back into your parka pocket, fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun as you began to make your way back down the hill. If Dotser was in danger you weren’t just going to leave him to fend for himself.

As you crested the top of the hill, you caught sight of a motorcycle pulling up beside Dotser’s parked car. You swore you spotted two people getting off of the bike before the headlight on it had turned off, throwing them back into darkness. But it hadn’t seemed like Dotser had been alarmed at the appearance of whoever they were, and you hadn’t heard gunshots ringing out. It must not have been the Serpents–they certainly didn’t share bikes like that anyway. But as you continued on your way down the hill, you wondered exactly who it could’ve been on that bike. Only Birdy and Frank knew you were out here.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, though. As you continued your descent down the hill towards the two vehicles, your temple throbbing as you felt blood trickling down the side of your face, you spotted someone pulling off a helmet and aggressively throwing it to the ground. Then their figure began storming its way over towards you, moving at an alarmingly fast pace. Your hand squeezed around the handle of the gun in your pocket, but almost one second later a sinking feeling hit you in the gut right before you heard the unmistakable and furious voice of Michael Kinsella.

“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doin’?”

You winced at the anger in his words as he continued to stalk his way towards you. Instead of answering, you blurted the question that was on your mind.

“How did you know I was here?” you nervously called back.

Michael’s enraged steps were swiftly closing in on you, shrinking the distance between the pair of you as he approached, a gun held firmly in his right hand. In the dim light from the moon you could see the sheer fury etched across his handsome features as his eyes bore into you. The look on his face alone sent a chill through you. But then you saw the exact moment he spotted what must’ve been the nasty gash on the side of your head considering how fast his expression switched from murderous to concerned and fearful. His eyes widened, dark brows rising up onto his forehead as his lips parted in surprise. He hesitated for the minutest of moments before he was sprinting the remaining distance towards you, stuffing his gun into the back of his jeans as he ran.

You came to a halt when Michael stopped before you, your eyes guiltily darting away from him and towards the ground. He reached his left hand out without a single word, his fingers carefully gripping your chin and turning your face to the side further as he examined the wound on the side of your head. You heard him suck in a sharp breath beside you before you felt the tips of his fingers on his other hand just lightly brush over the skin next to the injury. You grimaced at his faint touch and something like a rumbling growl vibrated in his chest instantly.

“It’s not that bad,” you whispered.

Michael didn’t reply. Instead, he gently turned your face back towards his, your eyes gradually making their way back up to his. Michael’s hazel stare pierced into yours through the dark, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could practically feel the heat of his anger burning into you just through his glare alone.

“Who did this?” he asked.

You shook your head, his fingers still holding your chin as you did. The Serpents wanted him dead, Michael could not be running off after them just because one of them hit you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him. “You’re not going to–”

“Who did this to ya?” he repeated fiercely, releasing your chin and taking a step closer to you, his face hovering before yours. “The asshole on the bike who just peeled out o’ here? He the one, Grace?”

Eyes going wide, your mouth fell open. He’d spotted the Serpent leaving?

“Take that as a yes,” Michael growled, turning on the spot.

He took two steps before your stomach twisted uncomfortably, watching as his right hand withdrew the gun from the back of his pants. You immediately took off after him, ignoring the way pain shot through your head as you bolted forward. 

“Michael, stop!”

Your hands reached out, grabbing onto his brown jacket and pulling roughly against it. Michael came to an abrupt stop, turning back towards you with a dangerous look in his eyes as he stared you down. The muscles in his cheeks were twitching and seeing that look back on his face only sent another chill through your body. He looked absolutely murderous. 

“Let go of me, Grace,” he ordered, barely contained rage in his voice. 

Your fingers curled tighter around his jacket as you shook your head at him. “No,” you told him. “You’re not going after him. I won’t let you. He’ll kill you.”

Michael took an intimidating step towards you, his face mere inches from yours. Though the proximity was anything but intimate with the way his expression was twisted in fury and his sharp, angered breaths were causing his chest to heave as he glared back at you.

“ I’m goin’ to fuckin’ kill him !” he roared at you, ignoring the way you flinched at the volume of his voice. “Ya think I’m goin’ to let some asshole threaten ya and then beat ya? Think I’d let that go unanswered? D’ya, Grace?” 

He raised the gun in his hand, the barrel of it pointed upwards towards the sky. Your eyes inevitably were drawn to the weapon at the movement, goosebumps rippling over your arms beneath your jacket. You were torn between fear for Michael’s safety, surprise at his rage openly on display, and absolute admiration for how far Michael was willing to go to protect you.

Though you were immediately drawn back to the matter at hand. The Serpents wanted Michael dead because Eamon wanted him dead. That Serpent that had just left here would shoot Michael on sight without hesitation. And if Michael somehow managed to kill an MC member instead, he'd have a whole new problem to deal with. 

He couldn’t chase after him.

“You can’t,” you said firmly, shaking your head again. “You can’t go after him, Michael.”

“The fuckin’ hell I can’t,” he snapped at you. “And don’t think I’m not wantin’ an explanation for whatever the fuck ya think you’re doin’ meetin’ with them all alone when I’m done dealin' with this.” He pointed a sharp finger towards your jacket pocket. " Or an explanation as to why you're carryin' a fuckin' gun on ya, Grace."

He firmly grasped your wrists, removing your hands from their hold on his jacket before he turned back around, stalking off towards the motorcycle he had rode in on. Inhaling a shaky breath, you followed after him, tears stinging at your eyes. You had to make him understand the gravity of this situation.

“The Serpents want you dead, Michael,” you shouted after him.

Michael stopped mid-step, his shoulders squaring as he stood there. Slowly, his head tilted to the side as he listened to you.

"The one I met with," you continued quickly, "he told me they're going after the bounties Eamon put out on all of you. Especially you, Michael. They want Eamon for a supplier. So if you chase after him, he'll kill you on sight."

Michael looked over his shoulder at you, his jaw clenched tight. The fury was still clear on his face but you pushed on, spotting Dotser and Michael’s brother Jimmy nearing the pair of you.

“And if you kill a Serpent, you’ll have the whole charter bearing down on your family here in Dublin,” you told him. “The club is a family, too. You kill one, you’ll have them all after you. And if you somehow prove to be difficult enough,” you said, pausing to draw in a deep, shuddering breath, “they call in the Viper." 

You held Michael’s stare unblinkingly. His brows drew faintly together as he processed what you'd said, a look of confusion drawing over his features.

"Viper?" he asked.

You nodded solemnly in return. " My ex. He deals with…problems that any charter can't handle on their own. If you start killing off members in Cork, you’ll have Victor here in Dublin so fucking fast that you might as well put a bullet in my head right now.”

Michael’s eyes dropped to the ground, his left hand rising up to run across his mouth. You could see the tension slowly leaving him as the weight of your words settled on him; even his grip on his gun wasn't as tight and determined as before.

“So I’m–I’m just s’posed to let that fucker get away with layin’ a hand on ya like that?” Michael shot back, his eyes darting back up to you. "Ya expect me to do nothin' 'bout that?"

Your eyes darted to Jimmy who’d come to a stop beside his brother. He was eyeing you curiously, seemingly really noticing you for the first time. For a brief moment you wondered what Michael must have told him about you for him to come out here to help his brother, but now wasn't exactly the time to wonder what Michael’s family thought about you. Attention returning back to Michael, you answered him.

“There’s–there's nothing you can do about what happened to me right now,” you told him, shaking your head. “He told me I needed to deliver you to him in three days or he’d alert the charter in Cork and Victor to the fact that I’m here. So I don’t–don't think it's a good idea to go racing after him and shooting first without thinking it through," you admitted. "Birdy wanted me to meet with her and Frank after this. Right now, I think that's the better option than chasing that guy down. It's better to not make a bigger mess out of everything. Think the best choice would be to be smart and handle this with some thought before action."

"She has a point, brother," Jimmy cut in, gesturing a hand at your face. "And your girl looks like she could use some medical attention. Let Dotser take her back to Birdy’s. We can meet 'em there and figure things out."

Resignation slowly made its way across Michael’s face as he shot his brother a look. Jimmy held his brother's stare for a few seconds as if the pair were silently communicating with each other. Eventually Michael let out a loud sigh, returning his gun to the waistband of the back of his pants.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Just give me a minute with her, would ya both?"

Both Jimmy and Dotser nodded, making their way back to the car and the motorcycle parked a little way off still. Nervously you focused on Michael who was watching the pair of men walking away. You felt guilty for having lied to him before coming out here, even more now that he'd caught you in the lie. 

Gradually Michael turned, making his way towards you. He moved quietly, his eyes on the ground as he took each step until he’d once again stopped in front of you. A second later he finally looked up at you, the anger entirely missing from his face now. Instead, there was something warm and caring reflecting back at you in his concerned eyes before they focused on the cut along your head. He winced visibly at the sight of it.

"I'm fine," you whispered. 

"Are ya?" he asked as his sad, pain-filled eyes met yours again. "You're in the middle of a lot o' shit right now, Grace. Because o' me."

You shook your head quickly, ignoring the sharp pain as you did. "No, it's because of me. Because of Victor," you disagreed.

Michael scoffed loudly, shaking his own head. "But no one would have taken notice of ya if ya hadn't been with me , Grace," he pointed out. 

Hands curling into fists at your sides, you were terrified he'd suddenly tell you he wanted nothing to do with you. That this was all a mistake. That you were safer without him–all things you'd wanted to say and do to keep him safe and couldn't exactly blame him for. Your heart had begun nervously thrumming in your chest in anticipation of those words as his hand reached out, carefully cradling the side of your face that wasn't injured. It felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for him to speak, his thumb lightly brushing back and forth along your cheek.

"I'm goin' to fix this," he assured you. "Goin' to make this right. To make sure ya are safe. Ya have my word, pet. He'll pay for this."

Gingerly his hand slipped back to gently grasp the back of your head, carefully drawing you into himself. Hands flying up, you wrapped your arms eagerly around Michael’s waist, desperate for the safety and comfort he exuded. He held you securely in his arms in return, one hand stroking affectionately down the back of your head as he lightly rested his against the top of yours.

"I'll keep ya safe, I promise ya," he murmured. "I got ya now, pet. Ya here me? I got ya now."

Burrowing further against Michael's chest, your eyes closed as you relaxed into his protective embrace. Despite how your night had gone, you felt safe with him. Fingers tightening further around Michael’s jacket, you held on to him like he was your lifeline. 

You didn't want to let him go.

[meiplays]

Queen of the Damned Sanctuary

PART 6

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Title: 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑.

[Daryl’s POV]

The sound of Sanctuary’s gates crashing open still echoed behind Daryl as he raced down the overgrown road, lungs burning, legs numb. He didn’t stop—not when the guards shouted, not even when the sting of gravel tore at his knees after hopping the fence. None of that mattered.

Not when she was gone.

He had barely slept, barely eaten. One second she was slipping through the halls in his shirt, warm and real—then next, the empty cot screamed louder than his guilt.

He should’ve said something. Should’ve stopped her. Should’ve let her know what she meant.

But instead he’d kept quiet—too broken, too proud, too damn scared. And now she was gone.

The trek back to Alexandria was a blur. The breath punched from Rick’s chest when Daryl finally muttered, “She’s missing. I—I think she took my bike.”

Rick hadn’t known. No one had. That secret Daryl thought he’d buried under a hundred unsaid things? It was now raw and exposed. Rick’s daughter. Rick’s.

Daryl couldn’t even meet his eyes.

And the rumors? They didn’t help. Whispers from Saviors as he passed:

> “Negan went after her.”

“He’s makin’ Daryl pay.”

“Said he only kept Daryl alive ‘cause of her.”

A memory slammed into him like a crowbar to the ribs.

Flashback — Sanctuary Cell, Weeks Ago

Chains rattled as Negan leaned into the cold bars of Daryl’s cage, leather and swagger radiating heat and fury.

> “You think I locked you up ‘cause I had to, Redneck? Nah. You needed to feel it. Feel what it’s like to lose everything… like I almost lost her.”

Daryl’s blood boiled.

> “She ain’t yours.”

Negan chuckled darkly.

> “Not yet. But lemme tell you somethin’, sunshine—you keep pushin’ me, and I might just make it real permanent. You only got to breathe ‘cause she gives a damn.”

[Present – Daryl]

Now the bike she took is gone. His heart thuds as he scans the faint tire tracks leading into the trees. His chest twists as he thinks of her—of everything he didn’t say.

He runs his hand over the worn leather of his vest.

> “Please,” he mutters. “Please be okay.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

[Negan’s POV — Simultaneous]

The engine roars beneath them as the wind howls like a hymn through the trees.

Negan leans forward, gloved hands gripping the bars tight, tension finally melting as he feels the gentle squeeze of arms around his waist.

> “You good back there, darlin’?” he shouts over the hum of the motorcycle.

Her laugh bubbles like honey, warm and untamed. Her mint-colored Juicy Couture shorts cling tight as she presses into his back, hair whipping behind her.

> “I’m perfect,” she calls.

The road stretches out before them, sun slicing through the canopy like a spotlight just for them. His jaw softens. For the first time in weeks, she’s smiling.

He had watched her for hours before he made his move—curled up in that swing chair, barefoot, her dogs asleep at her feet, peace radiating off her like moonlight.

Now, she’s his. Wrapped around him. Trusting him.

He reaches one hand down from the handlebar, lets it find her thigh. He doesn’t squeeze—just rests it there, possessive, reverent.

> “Told ya I’d find you,” he murmurs.

She leans forward, kisses the back of his neck.

> “Took you long enough.”

And the wind carries them forward—away from the mess, away from Daryl’s heartbreak, into something new and dangerous and intoxicating.

━━━━━━༺༻ ━━━━━━

Daryl's POV:

he couldn't help but remember the moment when you and him sat by the fire.. You were genuinely happy with him. He wonders what he had done wrong and what he could've done to relive this moments with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Campfire Glow”

ᴀ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʀʏʟ.

The fire crackled low between them, golden embers drifting up into the dark canopy above. Daryl sat close, a stick in hand, lazily turning a half-melted marshmallow over the flame. You were tucked under his arm, knees hugged to your chest, oversized coat draped around your shoulders like a blanket.

“Y’ever even had s’mores?” you asked, breaking the quiet hum of the woods. Daryl grunted like the idea was foreign, and you chuckled, pulling a graham cracker from your bag.

He eyed you as you assembled one for him—marshmallow squished between chocolate squares, both melting slightly in the fire’s warmth. You handed it to him with a tiny smile. “You’ll like it. Trust me.”

He hesitated... then took it.

Watching him bite into it, the way his brows raised a little in surprise, made your smile widen.

“It’s good,” he admitted, his voice low and almost shy.

“See?” you murmured, nudging him with your elbow. “Told you.”

Minutes passed like that, soft silence and shared sweetness. When you leaned against him, your head falling onto his shoulder, he didn’t flinch away like usual. Instead, he shifted just enough to let your cheek press against his chest, and you felt the slow, steady beat of his heart under your ear.

The fire flickered. His hand found yours.

He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. His warmth spoke for him. In that moment, the world outside the fire didn’t matter. Just you, him, and the stars above.

╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳

To be continued

[wrestlingarsenal]

Below are excerpts from this article about the Hell's Angels gay tag team -- Ron and Paul Dupree (aka Chris Colt) -- from the July 1969 issue of Inside Wrestling that I recently stumbled upon.

Before exposing their big secret, the article describes how they got together as partners when Ronnie Dupree, tired of playing a Good Guy, went looking for his biker brother, Paul, in San Francisco so they could form a Heel team.

[By the way, I had to look up "Frank Merriwell," the character that Ronnie Dupree was likened to. This was a fictional character in old 1900s dimestore novels, continuing on to 1950s comic books. Merriwell was the ultimate Boy Scout, an older version of Gallant from Goofus and Gallant. He was a model of healthy, obedient, positive behavior for straight American lads to hopefully take after.]

(The above image is NOT from the 1969 Inside Wrestling article.)

Back to the article, which included the following photo of the "brothers" in their leather vests with Paul down on his knees:

How implicitly gay can you get with Paul's face at bulging crotch level?

The next part of the story provides a kayfabe explanation for how Paul (aka Chris Colt) was convinced to take up pro wrestling in addition to biking.

Of course Paul refuses to abandon his biker buddies. Motorcycle gangs have long held gay overtones and homosexual associations in the popular imagination since they began in the 1940s and 50s. I mean the whole point of the hobby is to go around with other bad boys in leather, while your vehicle offers no easy way to bring your wife and kids along for the ride. There were even explicitly gay biker gangs like the Satyrs, founded in 1954. And of course, one of the Village People (a 1970s gay disco band) had to be a biker -- an icon of gayness.

I recently read an article claiming that the actual Hell's Angels members would kiss each other on the lips, supposedly to shock the squares in their vicinity... Even the 2024 film The Bikeriders about the rise of motorcycle clubs included a really, really gay conversation between the two (ostensibly) straight male characters.

So during the 1960s and 70s, you couldn't BE any sketchier, any more gay adjacent (or outright gay) than to don leather gear and join a (male only) biker gang. And this is exactly the gimmick adopted by the Duprees, as noted in the article -- how much louder could they possibly scream, Yes we are totally gay!?

My next post will reveal the shocking secret that, according to the article, these bikers/wrestlers are trying to hide. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

To be continued...