#i assume how it works is when she moves her hands in a biting motion it literally takes a chunk out of the enemy

[graciethegreat]

It got confirmed in the Klub Outside interviews that Yuyu Yayahara’s shikai is in acrylics LMAO

And apparently she uses shikai 24/7 because she thinks the nails are cute, which other squads criticize her for. By other squads i mean Byakuya he probably hates her ass

[yurinabluu]

🔹2. Honey-comb icecream

synopsis- Break-up of the it couple of the university was surely shocking for everyone but yu jimin didn't care. She knew it was right to do as she was in love with somebody else. Precisely her ex's bestfriend.

[A moment from the past when Ryujin and Jimin were dating]

“Do you like the taste? This place is particularly renowned for it’s ice-cream. I tried the raspberry one with Y/N few months ago and loved it so much. Though Y/N liked the honey-comb more. I had a bite and trust me when I say how bad it was. God knows how she likes it so much.”

Ryujin chuckled lowly and took a bite from her ice-cream.

While Ryujin was busy in talking about something, Jimin couldn’t help but motion her orbs onto the woman who had stolen her heart without even her realizing the moment it happened. She had convinced her broken heart that you did not feel the same about her , which led her to accept Ryujin’s proposal.

She thought this would help her to move on but boy how wrong she was. You were so pretty , so kind and so gentle. How can she ever move on from you?

Jimin was not a fool. She knew about her popularity. She was aware how everyone in the university adored her. Everyone except you she assumed. Nobody knows how many times she had prayed that she was wrong. Maybe you felt something for her. She did not mind if it was friendship or anything less . She just wanted to be near you and admire you for the amazing woman you were.

“I want to try another flavor.”

Ryujin looked up at Jimin before replying,

“Yeah? Tell me the flavor . I’ll go and buy for you.”

“The honey-comb one”

Ryujin looked at Jimin for a second before nodding and head towards the counter. Jimin gave her a small smile before her eyes moved back to you again. However, the smile which was gracing her beautiful face got replaced with a frown when she noticed a girl standing close to you which was more than enough to disrupt Jimin’s whole self.

She hated this feeling. She felt her gut wrench and stomach churn in a way she had never experienced before. It was an unfamiliar painful feeling and Jimin despised it. She never wished to feel like this again.

[Present time]

“Jimmy, are you fine?”

Minjeong asked her , her eyes mirroring the worry in her other two friend’s, Aeri and NingNing eyes.

Jimin’s eyes were fixed on you, particularly on your arm which was being held by Yunjin, the famous cheerleader. Yunjin was one of your admirers except for the fact that she was hell bent to make you hers. Everyone knew of her liking towards you and the efforts she has been putting in since freshman years to please you, which only resulted in earning a polite rejection from you.

Jimin knew you would reject her again like you have been doing since before , not to her but to everyone who’d dared to confess their feelings to you.

But the similar feeling always haunts her every time something like this happened.

“Do you think Y/N will accept Yunjin this time?”

“Maybe. I mean Yunjin has been trying for so long.”

“Really? I don’t think so.”

“Wanna bet?”

Having enough of the chatters, Jimin got up from her seat and left the cafeteria immediately. Jimin was a strong and resilient woman but she was nothing but powerless when it came to you.

Your eyes wandered on the screen in-front you while your hands were busy in jotting down the notes Mr. Lee was displaying. You had an important test coming up soon and needless to say you were lacking behind a lot due to volleyball practices. You loved the sport more than anything else but this test was important and covered an important part of your grade. Not to forget, the project which was going to be announced today held the similar importance. God it was extremely stressful but it something which was needed to be done.

“I just hope my partner will be useful. I cannot do all the work alone.”

You muttered under your breath when you noticed a presence beside you.

“Hey!”

You looked up at the source of voice when you felt your breath stop at the sight. Jimin stood beside you with her laptop and essentials in her hand, adorned in a white sleeve-less tee with a matching sky blue jeans , looking at you with a small smile. You were speechless. You never had a proper conversation with her before. You had no idea on what to say.

“Uhm hey..”

You mumbled nervously before Jimin sat down beside you making you even more surprised. You noticed her putting the materials down on the table gracefully before her eyes met your wide ones again. She let out a small laugh before speaking to you,

“We are partners….. y’know for the project.”

“Oh!”

You were cooked. Undoubtedly. You don’t know about God’s favorite child but you swore you definitely were the least. Before you could speak anything, Mr. Lee’s voice filled the classroom.

“Now that your partners are announced, I need you all to prepare a thorough and detailed presentation on the topic you like. Make sure to counter all the expected areas of the topic you choose along with your partners and discuss each other’s findings daily for at least an hour for a month before concluding it. Strategize your schedule for a month accordingly and remember this project is important for your grade. So better take it seriously.”

You cursed internally thinking about how you were going to survive a month being that close to Jimin. You just hoped that you won’t do anything stupid. Making Jimin uncomfortable was the least thing you ever want to do. And God knows how you were going to explain this to Ryujin. You cannot imagine what was going to happen during this whole month but things will definitely be taking a turn.

For good or for bad… only God knows that.

“So I was saying…” , Jimin looked at you giving you all her attention. You released a breath you did not realize you were holding before speaking,

“Should we exchange numbers?”

Jimin raised a brow at you in surprise which made you even more nervous if it was even possible.

“I mean since we are now partners, sorry project partners and Mr. Lee said we need to discuss our findings daily. So to decide the timings we need to chat and of course we cannot do that without having each other’s number. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It did not mean that. Trust me I am-”

Placing her hand on your shoulder, Jimin gave you a light comforting squeeze while having a teasing smile on her lips.

“I did not know you could get nervous Y/N.”

Jimin spoke making you look away from her with blood rushing in your face, making your ears and cheeks turn red. She laughed looking at your flushed self before handing her phone to you and asking you to hand over yours to her. Jimin returned your phone back to you after saving her number making you do the same.

“Let’s have a good month together Y/N.”

A genuine smile graced your lips mirroring hers before you spoke,

“Sure Jimin.”

_________________________________________

Taglist(open) - @saysirhc , @1luvkarina , @myouiiiiiiii , @nasyu-kookies , @gayforalll , @yuyuy90 , @hooneysugarh , @spidrgamer , @sunshinez4 , @hwm1hyun .

[ghostlywhiskey]

lawyer!price who calls you into his office one day because he's having formatting issues trying to draft a motion and can't figure out how to fix it. typically you don't work on his cases, being assigned a different set of attorneys at the firm, but your desk happens to be closer to his office. so, when you hear your name come out of him in a frustrated tone to come into his office, you quickly stop your current task and head to the doorway of his office. "yes, john?" your tone of voice far softer and laced with nerves since every conversation you've had with other paralegals at the firm mentions their fear and/or their dislike for him.

price looks up at you as you stand in the doorway. "i don't have time to go back and forth sending this fucking document over email trying to figure out why its being a pain and the assigned paralegal is out sick today." is all he says, his eyes staring at you as you stand completely still in the doorway. he didn't tell you to come over to his desk, so your brain cautions you to wait until he orders you to do so.

is he gonna ask me to come over and look at it?

can she move her fucking feet already to look at this word doc.

"well-" "do you-" his words are quickly cut off by yours and both of you fall silent. quickly taking advantage of the silence, you speak up again quickly before he can get a word in. "do you want me to take a look?" you finish your sentence from before, cautiously taking small steps towards his desk like he's an animal in a zoo enclosure that could harm you. except instead of harming you, you'll end up on the unemployment line.

"please." the word sounds forced out of him, like he's trying to bite back any frustration.

how am i suppose to know or assume what you want, prick.

walking over to his desk, he slides his chair back as you get closer, giving you room to stand by his desk to look at his computer. you reach over to grab the mouse, bending down slightly to look at the screen better. as you click around trying to fix the formatting, you don't even bother explaining what you are doing to correct it - knowing damn well the attorneys will always just default to asking you or another paralegal to fix it.

after a few minutes, you hear him clear his throat and stand up. a quick glance without moving your head to make it obvious shows him discreetly adjusting himself as he walks over to the doorway of his office. the only words to leave his mouth are, "i'm getting coffee." as he disappears outside his office door.

fucking skirts. it's not even a short skirt. what the fuck is wrong with me.

you shrug it off, trying not to think too much of it. by the time he gets back to his office, you are already back at your desk and resuming your prior tasks.

as he walks back into his office, he sees a post-it on his keyboard reading, 'fixed the format. lmk if you have any other issues'. the sounds of the post-it crumpling in his hands and hitting the plastic bag of the trashcan faint, but loud enough for you to hear. the action causing you to roll your eyes.

you're welcome.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

i so badly want a wukong pov of being in the zoo, how long do u think he would get stuck in there? a day, two days? a week? a YEAR? would he be seperated from macaque? would he take the zoo monkeys with him when the curse breaks?

monkey orphans seem to be hand raised, which mean they would effectively replace reader with a zoo worker, imagine their reaction to THAT.

face mauling i assume. lots and lots of mauling

… Okay I took forever with this ask. But I am going to give a SMALL glimpse to how this would be. Only because it would be hilarious.

Blood dripped down the zoo keeper’s face as Wukong screeched in his arms, his little claws dripping with his blood. Loud growls and hisses were easily heard. They took you away, you weren’t in sight! Where did they take their precious darling!? The police had to practically drag you away from the two monkeys who hissed and chirped to get you to come back. It didn’t work, no matter how much they called you weren’t answering.

Another worker came up wearing large gloves which got torn to shreds almost immediately.

“What is this breed? I’ve never seen a monkey like this,” The man said as he jumped away while Wukong was dropped into a crate rather unceremoniously. Reader would never be this rough on a cub! How could these people be so cruel!?

With that thought he let out another feral growl, biting and clawing at the man who claimed to be a zookeeper. Growls left his throat, tiny but vicious as he attempted to fight against the humans around him. If he was himself, if he was whole he’d be able to fight against them, he’d be able to KILL them. Their blood would cover the ground easily, and there would be nothing left but blood and broken bones.

‘Macaque!!’ Wukong chirped loudly as his mate was tossed into a different crate. He let out a howl at the mere thought of them taking him away. NO NO NO!!

‘Wukong!’ Macaque chirped angry as he banged against the bars of the crate before it was picked up and he was taken away.

‘NO!!’ Wukong screeched trying to bang against the bars, letting out chirps, chitters and anguished shouts.

“It’s alight little one, we’ll reunite you once we finish with a check up,” A woman spoke up, dressed in a short shorts and a tank top. She looked at him with adoration in her large blue eyes, her long blonde hair tied up in a pony tail as she approached the crate.

Wukong immediately hissed as she approached, she was looking at him with kindness. HE WANTED READER!! He wanted Reader, now now now!! He wanted his darling to snuggle with him and give him scratches. He wanted her to cut him up fruits and give him all the attention he deserves!

He wanted his mate who was always by his side. He wanted his moon, he wanted his calm, he wanted his warrior. For the first time since the curse had started he felt truly and utterly alone. His chest tightened at the very thought, alone? He was alone in a world he didn’t know, with people surrounding him and staring at him like he was some creature to gawk at.

A cold silent fury suddenly built in his chest as the woman let out a coo. He wanted Reader’s coos. The woman was talking, some would call it a beautiful voice but to Wukong it sounded like nothing but nails on a chalkboard.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let that woman hurt you any more.” Hurt them? HURT THEM!? It was those words that sealed their fates.

In an instant there were screams, broken wood, and melting iron. Materials were scattered around as smoke billowed from the standing monkey demon. Like chains snapping away from his soul he knew he was back. He didn’t even have to move to know that the people around him no longer saw the small cute yet angry cub. No they saw what they should always see, the seething warlords with deep gold eyes, and golden fur that covered his body. A thick powerful tail snapped against the ground, the ground breaking from the single motion.

“Hurt me? You think you can keep MY woman away from ME? Maybe I should show you just what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Every words was pierced with nothing but cold fury. Deadly intent soon became clear as he walked towards everyone around him.

“A-A MONSTER!” The last words that filled the air before Wukong let out an enraged roar.

Blood coated the ground, blood dripped down his fangs, his claws and stuck to his fur. Bodies dropped like flies as Wukong slaughtered anyone in his path, traveling in the direction of his mate. Not that he needed to when he watched shadows wrap around every piece of building around them. His beloved’s shadows were always so beautiful to watch.

The sight of his mate was more breathtaking than he had remembered before. Snowy white fur splattered with blood as the shadow monkey made his way directly to Wukong. Their chains now gone they were able to look at each other, really look at each other again. A shiver ran down Wukong’s spine as Macaque wrapped his arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. It was quick, nothing like he REALLY wanted but Macaque’s words stopped him from taking more.

“Let’s go get our wife~”

“With pleasure my love.”

Sooo- This took WAY longer to write than I planned. Yeah over a month. I AM SORRY! But I finally got to it. Adulting is hard sometimes. But I’ve got the work for you.

And yeah, the curse lasts for less than a day in Reader’s world. Why? Because one of the biggest things that keep the curse active is that the monkey duo feels SAFE around each other. They are always together and never leave each other’s sides. However when the curse broke it didn’t just crack of creak, no the thing SHATTERED! So now the zoo has a monkey duo who wants nothing more than to find the woman that the ZOO separated from them.

Remember, Reblogs and comments are always welcome!!

[shortestcake]

NEW SET

(oneshot)

Pairing: Modern!Ellie! x Reader

Pronouns used: none(afab genitalia described)

Gendered terms: perfect girl

Genre: smut+fluff, angst if you squint (mdni)

/ / mention of argument, oral(r! receiving), fingering(r! receiving), praise, dirty talk

Getting gel extensions after an argument with Ellie...

The "fight", if you could even call it that, wasn't anything serious, just happened to piss you off enough for this petty retaliation.

Now, sitting in your shared apartment, you looked over them, admiring them slightly. You never really got your nails done for obvious reasons, and even if you did, you'd keep your middle and ring finger short, so they wouldn't look cohesive.

The argument was currently the furthest thing from your mind, trying to savor what would probably be your last long nail set.

Ellie, on the other hand, was driving back home. Beyond pissed, not only did she have a shit day at work, but you were also giving her the silent treatment- that's what she assumed, at least- since she knew today was your day off, but you didn't answer any of her texts. Little did she know you were paying your dear nail tech a visit.

She knew the argument was mainly her fault, as were most of the minor disputes between you two. That's why she had a bouquet in her passenger seat, your favorite flowers wrapped in colored paper. Her tattooed hand gripped the steering wheel tighter the closer she got to your building complex.

By the time she pulled into the parking lot, you'd turned on the TV, looking for a cure to your boredom.

You bit back a smirk when you heard keys jingle behind your hallway door, curious to see how long it'd take her to notice.

"Baby, I'm home." She called once she entered.

"Living room!" You answered, after a few moments and some shuffling from the hallway, she walked into the living room.

You tilted your head, watching her from the couch. A cozy feeling of warmth and guilt simultaneously bloomed in your chest when you saw the bouquet she was holding. Okay, maybe you overreacted a little bit.

"Welcome home..." You mumbled as she got closer, giving in to the short peck she offered.

The upper half of her body leaned over your couch, nervously she lifted up the assortment of flowers. " 'M sorry about last night, baby." Offering you the bouquet to compliment her apology.

"It's okay, I got over it like..." You pretend to think for a moment, "20 minutes ago." She chuckled quietly at your reply.

When you went to grab the flowers from her hand, she caught a glimpse of your hand. "Oh? Did you get your nails done, hun?" 

"Hm? Ah, yeah, I did." Suddenly timid, you bit your lip when she grabbed your hand, analyzing your new set. 

"Wait.. did you?" Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked up at you.

 You looked away sheepishly, staring at the wall. A loud laugh erupted from her chest, "I really pissed you off, huh?" You giggled, "Yes, royally so."

"Hm, let me make it up to you." Now, she pulled your hand towards her face, kissing your knuckles gently.

 Ellie moved around the couch until she was hovering above you, quickly easing your shirt off. "So pretty." She muttered against your chest, leaving opened-mouthed kisses in her wake. Eventually, she took your nipple in her mouth, sucking and gently biting while her hand worked on the other.

"Can I take these off?" She tugged at your shorts, snapping them against your waist. Instead of answering verbally, you lifted your hips, helping her dispose of the garment. In a few swift motions, you were left completely bare, squirming under intense gaze. 

Her hand caressed your thighs, gradually coaxing them apart. 

Ellie can never tease you- not as much as she'd want to anyway- she tried to take her time, running her thumb through your folds "So wet, this for me, baby?" but she can't help easing a finger in, then another. Both of you groaned at the sensation.

She wasted no time, starting at a fast pace as she pumped her fingers in and out of your pussy. Her tattooed arm was busy holding you down by your hips, stopping you from moving too much. 

Your hands shot up to grab a fistful of her hair when she leaned down, sucking against your clit harshly. "Fuck, Els." You whined, pushing her head down further, and she let you.

 "Always taste so good f'me, my perfect girl." She mumbled against you, the vibrations causing you to arch your back and pull her even closer to you. The hand that was holding you down was now gripping your thigh massaging the fat and squishing it ever so often. She looked up at you with those adorable puppy-dog eyes, moaning with you as if she was the one receiving pleasure.

"E-Ellie!" You gasped, eyes rolling in the back of your head when she adjusted her fingers, hitting even deeper inside of you. You used your own hand to claw at hers, making a little grabby motion, which made her smile before she intertwined your fingers. "So fucking cute." She mumbled, only making you cry out louder at the sensation.

"Baby, I'm close." Might've been your most intelligible sentence yet, and it has your girlfriend working double time.

"That's it." She cooes from between your legs. "Fucking come for me, all over my face."

 Her words are enough to drive you over the edge, moaning a mix of her name and expletives. Ellie opts to curl her digits inside of you rather than continue to move them in and out of you while she helps you ride your orgasm out, pulling a few more whimpers out of you and whispering praise against your sensitive cunt, giving it a few kitten licks for good measure.

 Once your breathing evens out, Ellie pulls out and sucks her fingers clean, making sure you watch.

"C'mere." You two shuffle around and eventually decide on you laying atop her chest.

 While you both wind down, she takes your hand in hers once again.

"These are cute."

"Thank you."

...

"When are you gonna get them removed?"

"Babe, these were like $110...

First time writing Ellie, constructive criticism welcome!

[razrogue]

thanks to you (Astarion & Tav)

Read on AO3

Summary: A simple visit to a vendor sparked something bigger than he could have ever expected…

Astarion couldn’t recall as a spawn or from his previous life, having anyone on his side that looked after him. Took care of him. Believed in him when others doubted. Gan had been honest about what they wanted even when he hadn’t been so forthright. Even when he was set in his old instinctive ways and trying to keep up his mask, they just chipped away at it at every turn. Many nights they'd walk off from camp, talking about whatever. It was superficial at first, he played the cards he knew. Smile, flirt, seduce, manipulate, it was all familiar for him. Over time though, his usual tactics began failing him. The fractures continued and the facade began to fall away. Then they reached Moonrise and it all seemed like it was ready to come down at last.

She’d introduced herself as Araj Oblodra, trader in the sanguineous arts. A bit over the top he thought to himself but nothing wrong with a little flair. As she chatted away with Gan, he’d noticed her eyes kept darting over to him while they talked stock and potions. Gan noticed it too and finally asked what was her deal.

“You haven't stopped looking at my companion since we walked up,” Gan replied, mildly annoyed.  The trader finally spoke up about her sideways glances.

“Perhaps we could discuss your friend. He’s a vampire, no? A spawn perhaps?”

Astarion swiftly threw up his hands innocuously, "Oh don't worry, we're all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite."

“Oh but I’d prefer if you did. I assume he belongs to you, no?”

Gan glimpsed over at Astarion before answering, barely masking their disdain, “...he’s his own person.”

Araj clapped as if she'd been told a cute joke, “How utterly adorable. You actually let him believe that.”

The audacity of this lady knew no bounds. Gan sensed Gale moving a little closer to them, ready to diffuse if things got a little heated. She proceeded to address him, “do you have a name, spawn?”

“Astarion, b-bb-but wait…”  He leaned back. The tension was becoming thick and unnerving, he should have just walked away.

“Good. Now Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

"I’m sorry, what? You want to be bitten?? Actually bitten???" In most situations, people were afraid of that happening and here she was lusting for it.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death?” The drow closed her eyes as she uttered a barely perceptible moan.

“Yes, I want it. Your efforts won’t go in vain. I can provide you with a potion of legendary power.” Araj crossed her arms as if she was putting up her best and final bartering offer.

“It’s not for sale. I will only part with it if you bite me.”

His response was prompt, though not the one she wanted, "I will have to decline."

“Excuse me?? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you’re squandering it.”

His tadpole reached out for Gan’s, teasing at the edges of their mind, the sensation quickly building from uneasy to disgusted.

"I gave you my answer," he huffed with finality.

Astarion watched as the vendor ignored him and continued prodding Gan to make him comply with her request. As the minutes passed, a sinking feeling began weighing on him. He was sure he'd just have to work his way through it for all of their sake. Having traveled with Gan for many weeks now, knowing that they hardly ever hesitated when it came to their own wants and needs, he didn't expect what unfolded in that moment. Gan tilted their head at Araj, listening to the drow sulk about Astarion not fulfilling her wish, speaking about him as if he was a thing for her to play with. Astarion had said no. Gan had backed him up. The vendor had ignored them both. He watched as Gan began closing the distance between them. Araj, still prattling on, was oblivious to the small rogue's motions as she approached. He watched in shock as Araj abruptly quieted, eyes widening a bit in terror as she stared at the hooded elf. The drow slowly stepped back and crashed into the table behind her. Bottles and flasks tumbled over and she took the moment to turn around and attend to the mess. Astarion quickly composed himself before Gan turned around to the party and motioned for them to depart. 

Leaving the tower, they had a small trek to get back to Last Light Inn. It gave him time to ponder what had happened and why it'd affected him so much. Almost any other time, he would just check out but he didn't. When he was about to slip back into that darkness, they'd kept him out. Astarion wasn't exactly sure why it touched him in such a way. They didn't really do anything amazing. Not like he’d been swept off his feet. No grand gesture or anything. No sweeping declarations of love which the thought of made him queasy to be honest. They just stood up for him. Didn't walk away when he'd needed them most. And he thought to himself they had a habit of doing that. Whether it was someone by his side, a bandage for his wounds, dining together , or just a good laugh, they'd been there. It was all quite frustrating honestly. No one helped worms like him. Not when there was gold to be had and least of all when they gained nothing in return. Even though their first meeting was by dagger, Gan didn't hold it against him. And after they'd told him it might be useful to have a vampire by their side, he always knew where he stood with them.

All these thoughts racing through his mind, he found it hard to settle once they were back at the inn. Shadowheart and Gale were perched on stools while Gan played bartender and topped everyone off. Astarion sat over by himself, nursing his wine goblet. Why was he feeling this way? What was this? He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he’d given them a piece of his mind. He quickly knocked back the goblet and strode towards the bar, determined to get this off his chest and out of his mind so he could think clearly again.

Astarion sidled up next to Gale, faking interest in whatever the three of them were chatting about. When he saw an opening, he nodded, hoping they’d picked up his signal. Still engaged, he saw their eyes quickly dart towards the side door, not missing a beat in their discussion with Shadowheart. He remained for a little bit longer, teasing Gale and debating Shadowheart until he was able to slip away during a natural lull in their discussion.

He headed towards the small cliff just outside the inn by the lake. It was just outside of Isobel’s protection but the fairy’s blessing still illuminated him so he felt safe enough anyway. Astarion didn’t know how much time had passed but between his thoughts and the gentle lapping of the water, he didn’t notice that Gan had finally joined him.

They stood closely beside him, peering out across the water into the vast darkness in silence. The two of them continued to stand there, hands almost grazing, until Astarion couldn't stand it anymore.

"I think we need to talk."

He'd turned to face them, ready to get this bit of unpleasantness over with. He'd say what he had to say, listen to them laugh him off, then all of this could be behind them.

Astarion was gearing up to deflect their response because surely this was going to be a disaster but he wouldn't let them see him suffer. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction.

Gan turned to face him, sliding their cape hood down, freeing their coppery red coils from their hooded confinement. Astarion gasped quietly to himself. This was going to be tougher than he thought and he was wishing he'd drowned the thoughts out with wine so he didn't have to deal with this. They looked up at him and for a quick second he lost himself in their brown depths, until their voice finally broke through the fog.

"Are you all right?"

He didn't expect this to be easy but hearing them ask about his well being was just another crack among the others in his crumbling facade. It wasn't like they'd never asked him before but maybe with the state he was in, this moment felt like a little more than those times. They weren't fresh out of a battle, everyone looking over themselves to make sure no one was injured seriously. This was close and intimate and Astarion decided he better finish quickly.

"What? Oh yes, I think." 

He closed his eyes briefly. The scrutiny was too much even though all the pressure was from his own imagination. With a quick breath, he continued.

"I just wanted to thank you."

Gan stood quietly for a minute before finally asking, "thank me for…?"

He swallowed over the building knot in his throat.

"When we were in the tower…" Astarion paused, "...that vile drow." Her insistence turned demand, how she disregarded his response then his presence carried shades of things he didn’t like remembering and could never forget. As they all stood there, the moment growing tense, Astarion was moments away from just saying it was fine. He'd just suffer through it like he always did.

"I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master." Nights in taverns plying fools with alcohol, lacing every honeyed word, sinking hooks into them until they'd found themselves back in the palace, unceremoniously dumped as food for his master.

"I was a slave. My wants didn't matter. I was there to do his bidding. That was my worth." When you have something repeatedly instilled into you, being told you're unworthy, your value is less than the dirt you walked upon, it becomes a persistent thought in your mind. The bravado was all an act. An act that he played well. He knew his place and his role as a plaything for others. Then a late night in an alley in Baldur's Gate changed everything. 

The nerves were getting to him. He fussed with a loose thread on his sleeve, trying to settle them so he could just get through this unfortunate chat.

"You could have asked the same of me. Throw myself at her and get whatever she was offering us. It was probably going to be useful! And we need all the tools we can get..."

Astarion threw his head back. Gods, he just wanted to walk away and drown the rest of his thoughts in the poor excuses for wine inside the inn. He'd go hunting but shadow cursed lands aren't fertile grounds for food. 

"Look, you didn't ask me to do something I didn't want to do. And I'm grateful."

Gan, listened and watched as he went through a battery of emotions, before they finally spoke up again.

"I didn't really do anything. You make your own choices now, Astarion."

That one little statement spoken and his knees felt like they'd buckle beneath him. He was making his own choices. There was no master out here since he walked away from the nautiloid crash. No one compelling him to act and behave however they wanted. It was all him now. These were his decisions to make, for better or for worse.

"This is a novel concept, I must admit. And a little intimidating." He turned back to the water, swallowing his discomfort. They'd given him something to ponder without realizing it. Were these feelings he thought he had really about them? Was this about Gan and him coming to terms with something they may have? Or could this be about the newfound freedom he found himself thrust into? A freedom he was trying to understand because centuries had been spent without it. When you're under an overbearing presence that rules your life and it's suddenly snatched away, how do you navigate without it? How do you move about when that domineering hold is all you know?

Astarion cleared his throat. "Yes well…thank you…truly." 

Gan stood there quietly for a few moments more before finally turning to leave, "You're welcome."

With a quick pat on his back, they set back off towards the building. Before they'd gotten too far, they called back to him, "Astarion?" He turned towards them with a solemn look. 

Gan remarked with a sly smirk, "no one tells my personal attack vampire what to do but me." And with that, Gan walked off, leaving a chuckling Astarion to his thoughts.

[samethyst01]

A Mother's Love: Chapter One

“—and I really do think that is, uh, the measure of a real actor, you know, someone who can… not only understand the director’s vision but understand their character as well and imbue it with a sense of— of purpose and realism, right?”

Coraline had long since stopped listening to the radio. It was on in the background, and playing at a subtle volume, but she hadn’t actually paid attention to what it was saying for a few hours. She was far too lost in the piece, her brush-strokes far more deliberate and reflective of the whole idea, rather than moving of their own accord in time with her wandering mind. That’s usually how she’d do it when she was bored – keep the radio on and listen to whatever nonsense she found tolerable, letting her body move the brush wherever it would.

But this time was different, this time she had fallen into a far more focused motion, her entire being centred around getting this image, this idea, perfect. Her tongue gently parted her lips as she worked, an idiosyncrasy she had apparently picked up from watching Wybie at work. With one hand she adjusted the easel slightly and with the other she added some subtle discolouration to the clouds, unsatisfied with their greyness. They weren’t perfect enough. She needed them to be perfect.

In the years since she had moved back home, Coraline had become something of an artisan. She had always known art would be her career of choice, or at the very least, known it for a while. Gardening was her parents’ thing, and while she assumed she might one day just fall into the routine of it, as so many did with their parents’ line of work, she found herself growing more averse to the idea as she matured. The days spent back in Ashland were filled with exploration and a sense of wondering, about life and about death and about how much she wanted to express it all in her own way.

With a gentle flick of the brush, the last distant bird was added to the sky and it – the entire idea – was finished. She adjusted the easel once again before stepping back and admiring it, the sound of the radio providing a nearly imperceptible soundtrack.

“Well, look at that…”

She murmured to herself, gently biting the tip of her thumb.

Before she could fully process the reality of what she had drawn in her focused yet entirely unfocused state, her phone buzzed with a message. She reached down and grabbed it, working on autopilot, reading an alert for an appointment in thirty minutes. She inhaled deeply, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling and grabbing her coat, sliding it on and grabbing her keys from the desk. Without turning back, she headed out the door.

It was a slightly gloomy, overcast day, so Coraline didn’t feel too uncomfortable wearing her coat. In fact, it was just the right temperature for it, not so warm that it was unnecessary and not so cold that it wasn’t enough. It was… perfect. She trotted to the edge of the sidewalk and held out her hand for an oncoming bus. It screeched to a halt in front of her, and as she was getting on she looked across the street and watched a stray cat disappear around the corner of a building. Its fur was jet black.

With her headphones in, music dancing into her ears, Coraline sat back on the bus and gently played with her phone, rolling it around between her fingers. It was just another ordinary day, of course it was, in every sense of the word ‘ordinary’, and yet something felt strange. It was a different motion, an off-centre kind of thing, a vague alteration to the very specific routine she had become accustomed to over the years. But try as she might, Coraline couldn’t figure out why, or what it was that had begun bothering her so much.

Before she could formulate an idea, a proper one, she had arrived at her stop and without thinking much else, she promptly got off the bus. As she was crossing the street she could swear she saw the cat again, staring at her from the window of a high-rise or watching her from a coffee shop. There it was again, a stray black tail here, a pointed ear there, the shine of a dark blue eye in the reflection of her phone screen. At the very least, this eye was more like a marble than a button.

Coraline reached the familiar door rather quickly, gently pressing the buzzer next to it. She held herself close, wrapping her coat around her chest and stealing glances around the street. Maybe she was just tired. That had to have been it, there was no way that—

—that he was back.

The thought secretly terrified Coraline. Because if he was back then so was everything, so was all the horror she has become convinced no longer scared her, so were the ghosts and the buttons and the eyes and—

“Hello?”

A husky voice escaped from the door’s intercom. Coraline was jolted out of her sudden daze, taking one last look around the street before turning back to the door. She cleared her throat before speaking, pressing a different buzzer in order to do so.

“It’s Coraline… is that you, Ingrid?”

She tried not to look, but she couldn’t help it. She could see him now, clear as day, sat in the middle of the road as cars just drove on past him like he didn’t exist, like they couldn’t see him. There was a reply from the intercom but Coraline couldn’t hear it. All she could think about was the black cat sitting in the middle of the road, staring at her…

…and how it had no reflection.

******

“So. Coraline.”

Ingrid folded her hands in her lap as she sat across from her younger patient, her long black hair tied into a messy bun. Glasses were perched on her face and she had a prominent scar running across her left cheek. Coraline tried not to focus on it when the two of them first met, three years ago, but she was always so fascinated by the mystery of it. She had never been so rude as to ask where it came from, the idea of embarrassing her therapist smothering her desire for knowledge.

“Tell me about the past couple of weeks. How it’s been going?”

There was a pause before Coraline spoke. She had taken some time to muster the words, wondering about how she’d phrase them. Would it come off as convincing as she’d hoped?

“…good. Yeah, it’s been good.”

The sentence came out slightly unconfident, but the hesitancy was balanced out by an earnest undertone. Ingrid nodded, already prepared to grapple with her patient for some honesty.

“And your art? Are you still painting?”

Coraline laughed.

“Well of course I am, it’s my passion. I actually finished a piece this morning before I got here.”

This was the moment.

“Oh, that’s great. May I ask what it is?”

The young woman’s smile faltered and she looked down, biting her lip. She hadn’t fully processed it herself, and it felt like a bullet was slowly being driven into her chest. Not a knife – the pain was small and localised. It was just a gunshot wound that took minutes to arrive.

“The… Pink Palace.”

It was hard to get the words out, but she managed it, a heavy breath escaping her lips as she did, one she had no idea she was even holding in. Ingrid sat forward with intrigue. She knew Coraline had been hiding something but she wasn’t aware that it was this. The young woman had spoken about her trauma only once before, during their first meeting, and only in the vaguest of terms, as if it were something so terrible that even the mere thought of it was too painful.

But the truth was that Coraline knew nobody would believe her.

“I remember you mentioning it the first time we met, actually. Our first session. You said something about it being hard for you to talk about.”

With a slight glimmer in her eyes, Ingrid slowly sat forward and pressed her two index fingers together. Coraline tried not to meet her gaze, her eyes flitting from the bookshelf on her right to the ragged plant on her left, and then to the window, but like a magnet it began to attract her eyes back towards Ingrid’s. She stared at her therapist for a good few seconds before letting out another withheld breath.

“Nothing I say would make you believe what really happened.”

She sat back and folded her arms, deep in thought. Pursing her lips, Ingrid considered her words for a moment before deciding to pluck on this particular thread some more.

“And… what did really happen, Coraline?”

The young woman thought about how she’d tell it. She had fantasised about it many times before, in fact. She pictured herself on late night television talk shows, or podcasts, telling her story to the world. She imagined herself relaying every detail, from the moment she and her parents arrived in Ashland, unpacking their things and exploring the Pink Palace. The mist seemed constant, the air always thick and heavy, the sky dark, rain constantly either dripping or pouring.

They’d met the neighbours next, the strange gymnast Bobinsky and his imaginary mouse circus above, and the two retired actresses Spink and Forcible below. Coraline spent the first few days just missing her friends back home, and when she wasn’t moping over that she was exploring the grounds and the garden. She remembered that day clear as crystal, the day when all her dull and regular moments washed away in the wake of something far more terrible.

But she couldn’t have known it, couldn’t have known that cat would drag her into such evil! She had also met Wybie that day, the boy who would quickly become her best friend. So it wasn’t all bad, right? No, it wasn’t. But the full context almost swallowed the shining light that Wybie was. If she took just a second to consider the rest of the story, she’d remember everything that came after that. The mice at the foot of her bed, the door in the living room, the tunnel, the other place – all its secrets and horrors with it – and worst of all—

“Coraline?”

Ingrid’s voice jolted the young woman back to full focus and she coughed awkwardly. She’d been spacing out. Her therapist sighed softly and leant back, coming to accept the fact that this particular memory was going to stay hidden for the foreseeable.

“We don’t have to talk about that. Not if you’re not ready.”

At her words, Coraline gave her therapist an intense look, one filled with a kind of desperation she hadn’t felt in years. It was as if she was trying to muster the courage to let it all out, only now coming to terms with the monstrous nature of it all. The nightmares spoke volumes. She was still scared of that place, and its occupant. Oh, and that occupant. How she wished she could forget it all. But it was time for her to remember.

“I dreamt of her again.” She whispered.

[ysuftswift]

i know the end — Part 1 coming tomorrow!

Betty Cooper is struggling to solve her first real case as a detective. With little authority over her branch, she calls in help in order to figure out where to go from what little evidence she has. Over the course of solving a murder no one ever saw coming, she grows closer with her partner, and truly begins to find herself.

Sneak peek into the first part:

Jughead sat in his car staring at the police station. The building was made of brick, weathered down and fading from what he assumed was a red to a murky brown. The sky was covered in a thick blanket of clouds, casting the small town in a grey glow that gave you a headache. He couldn't bring himself to move, too worried his feet were unable to carry his body to the door.

Four years he was head homicide detective in Brooklyn. It became consistent, things he had seen at least once a week. He wasn't sure what he was walking into now, but he was certain it wasn't his usual. The town was tight-knit. Any crime requiring a detective in a place like this had to be insane enough to convince them to allow a rando in.

Another minute passed by and the clouds gave way to a steady drizzle. It was then he finally emerged and willed his body towards the small station.

The door creaked as he pulled it open, and heads turned from every direction making him gulp down the saliva that pooled on his tongue. Beady eyes made sure to stay unmoved even as the door slammed shut behind him, seeming to almost shake the whole building.

"I'm, uh..." He cleared his throat when it came out weak, hiding his hands in his pockets. "I'm looking for Detective Cooper?"

"Right here," a woman called from his right. His head turned slowly, coming into contact with a blonde standing by the door of an office. "We can talk in here."

She held the door open with her body as he crossed through the station. The few sheriff's kept their eyes on him, running them up and down his body, creating an inventory of him just in case.

He nodded his head respectfully towards the blonde and shook her hand before walking past her into the office. "Thank you for coming," she said once the door was shut. She glanced through the glance of the windows before closing all the blinds. "I apologize for everyone staring. We don't have visitors very often."

"Who did I speak with on the phone?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I remember speaking to a man — no offense."

"No, I—I understand," she assured, biting her lip. "That was deliberate. You spoke to my friend, Archie Andrews. I thought if you spoke to a guy, you would be more inclined to come out here and help."

"If it was up to me, it wouldn't have mattered who called," he shrugged. "I was sent by my boss."

"Then I assumed he would be more inclined," she corrected, smoothing her hands down her stomach. "I don't have much credibility around here. I just filled the position five months ago after my dad passed. They're crying nepotism, which is understandable, but I was the only certified person on the squad to be a detective. I went to school for this job."

"I understand being seen as unqualified," he promised, licking his lips. "Why did you need me?"

"Right," she exhaled. She brushed hair out of her face and sat down at her desk, motioning for him to do the same across from her. "There's been a murder and... I have no one to tell me how I'm supposed to take care of it."

"I thought you went to school for this?"

"I did, I have a bachelor's in criminology, but I can't do this alone. I don't even have authority over the ME at the hospital, he won't listen. It may be the 21st-century but this town thrives off of old-fashioned ways. It doesn't help either that everyone that lives and works in this town also grew up here so everyone has an opinion of everyone else already."

He wiped a hand down his face, sitting up straighter. "So you called me in here because you're having trouble asserting authority over your district?"

"Yes, but—"

"This is a huge waste of my time," he huffed, standing up quickly. "I have actual cases I need to be assessing back in Brooklyn."

"No. Wait!" she called, following him through the precinct and out the door. "You have to help me!"

"Why should I?" he shouted from his car as she stayed under the awning out of the rain. "Give me a damn good reason because this is an insult to what I do."

She huffed, tucking hair behind her ears. "I don't have a reason! The whole case is a reason! She was seventeen, still in high school. Good grades, lots of friends, a boyfriend. She's not just a girl who gets murdered! No one gets murdered here!"

"Seems like you're good at this. Why do you need me?" he asked, punctuating each word.

"I just do, okay? Please," she begged weakly. "I'm not going to get anywhere by myself."

[fettuccin-e]

Filthy Whispers

I absolutely hc that Steve motherfucking Harrington has a filthy mouth and doesn't even realize it,,, like he just gets so pussydrunk that his brain-to-mouth filter is just nonexistent,, so here we go besties (Tags: Steve Harrington x Reader, unprotected piv, size kink, hints of breeding kink and exhibitionism kink, fem!reader)

With his pretty doe eyes and soft hair and penchant for taking hapless kids under his wing, it’s easy to assume that Steve Harrington is as vanilla as they come. It’s easy to think that under the polo shirts and parental rolls of his eyes that Steve probably just likes it slow and steady, missionary and almost marital.

Anyone who assumes that is fucking stupid.

Steve likes missionary, of course, but it isn’t slow and soft, it isn’t ‘making love.’

No, Steve likes missionary because it means that he can fucking fold you in half, pressing your thighs against your tits while he hooks your calves over his shoulders. He likes being able to lick into your sticky mouth, your pretty lips gaping open over punched out moans while he fucks his fat cock into your dripping pussy.

And despite his stuffy upbringing, his polos and mother-hen tendencies, Steve Harrington has the filthiest mouth you’ve ever heard.

“Goddamn, baby, you hear that? Hear how this sweet pussy is sucking me in? Jesus, sweetheart, been thinking about you all day. Wanted to fuck you over the counter at work, just pull your panties to the side and slide my cock in,” he murmurs into your mouth. He doesn’t wait for any responses to his questions, he just keeps talking and talking while your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“You’d take me in, wouldn’t you baby? Take me all the way inside your little cunt? People would walk into the store, just wanting a movie, right baby? But they’d get a whole different show, sweetheart. Cause I wouldn’t stop; I’d keep fucking you even as people walked in, and I bet you’d scream sweetheart, God. You’re so fucking desperate to be filled up, you’d let me fuck you in front of strangers, anything to get to this cock, right baby?”

You nod deliriously, barely registering Steve’s words he stretches you out so good, reaching so deep inside. Your chest is heaving with the effort it takes to get air into your lungs, only for the air to get knocked out again by each one of Steve’s brutal thrusts. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking dripping, sweetheart. Just gushing over this cock, shit, you’re so fucking hot. Need this pussy all the time, y’feel so good wrapped around me. Wanna- wanna be buried deep in this cunt, all the time baby. Gonna fuck you all the time, sweetheart, just keep  you stuffed full with my cum, dripping out just to fuck it back in. Gotta get you off that birth control baby, so I can get you pregnant, fuck-”

Steve cuts himself off with a deep groan, almost surprised at his own words. You both knew you wanted kids, maybe in a few years, when you moved out of your shitty apartment and bought a house, maybe got a dog. But the thought of you, all swollen and heavy with your kid, fuck, it’s got Steve lightheaded. 

You sob as Steve somehow starts to shove himself in harder, tears streaming from your eyes as you claw at his back. “Steve, Steve, I can’t- It’s too much, oh god-”

“Fuck yeah, take it baby,” Steve mutters. He snakes a hand between you to rub your clit, chuckling like the bastard he is when your hands shoot down to grip his wrist tightly, stopping his motions. “C’mon, baby, why aren’t you letting me play with you? Little pussy is just begging for it, clutching onto me so well. She wants me to fill her up, right? You want it baby, I know you do. Shit, I’ll get you all heavy and pregnant, keep you at home while these pretty tits,” he leans down to bite one of your breasts, bouncing with the force of his thrusts, “get all filled up with milk. Shit, and you’ll just be ready for me all of the time. I’ll fuck you when I get home from work, every night, filling you up with cum while your stomach just gets bigger and bigger.”

Steve resumes playing with your puffy clit, even as you try to hold his hand steady. “You wanna be my little housewife, baby? I know you do, sweet girl, fuck.” Steve doesn’t even fucking feel like he’s real anymore, only existing to fuck you full, breed you up. He feels like a fucking animal, ruthless and barbaric as sweat drips down his forehead and his hips drive forward to claim you in the most primal way he can imagine.

“Gonna- gonna fill this pussy up. My pussy,” Steve grunts, “You’re mine right, baby? Say you’re mine.”

You barely have enough sanity to respond, “Yours, Steve. ‘M all yours.”

“That’s right baby. You’re mine. And I’m yours, you got that? I’m all yours, every part of me. My body, my mind, my soul, it’s fucking yours. God, you’re so perfect, so stunning, can’t- I can’t believe you’re mine, my perfect fucking baby, Christ-”

You open your bleary eyes to see Steve above you, eyes clenched shut, still mumbling. You know Steve, you know that sometimes he starts to spiral when he gets like this, all overstimulated and cock aching as he tries to hold off for you, the hot clutch of your cunt too much for him to bear. You reach a hand up to clutch at the hairs on the back of his head, smiling softly when his eyes snap open.

“Fill me up, baby. Want you to stuff me full with your cum, stretch me out till I’m gaping for you. Fuck Steve, I want you to own me.”

And Steve whines, high-pitched in the back of his throat, before he buries his face in the crook of your neck whispering, “God, you’ve got a fucking filthy mouth, baby.”

And you almost laugh, you would have, if Steve didn’t snap his hips at just the right angle, jamming the head of his cock right into your sweet spot. Steve, calling your mouth filthy. It’s almost comical. But you know that Steve barely even realizes what he says to you half the time, too lost in the sopping hot wetness of your cunt to filter his words. His mouth just runs when he fucks you, unfettered, giving you a glimpse into his deepest thoughts of you and your pretty body.

“Cum, sweet baby,” Steve whispers. “Gotta feel you squeeze around my cock, wanna see you fucking scream.”

And you have no choice but to follow his orders, screaming as you finally cum, pussy fluttering around Steve, still hammering deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so sexy. Gotta, gotta get one of those video cameras, yeah? Gotta film you falling apart like this, fuck you while we watch it, you look so pretty, oh fuck.” Steve’s eyes clench shut again as his hips still, spilling his cum deep into your overstimulated pussy, gasping out your name. 

He slumps heavily on top of you, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. You giggle at him softly when he looks up into your eyes, his cheeks all flushed and eyes sleepy.

“You think we’ve got enough money right now for one of those new camcorder things?” Steve whispers, moving to lay next to you. You wince minutely as he slides out, and Steve lays an apologetic kiss on your shoulder before he tugs you close to him, your bodies melding together.

“Stevie, baby,” you say, brushing a hand through his soft, albeit sweaty, hair. “If you keep fucking me like that, I’ll buy you ten camcorders.”

[stansethandpaul]

I'm Better For You

Masterlist

Paul Lahote x fem!reader A casual conversation turns into a heated argument, will they be able to mend it or will they let it get the better of them?

TW: Arguing, slut-shaming, the casual jealous argument

This is written for @therandomficwriter and I cannot emphasize this enough but please check out her work, she is honestly a very talented writer and she does not get the recognition she deserves!!

Y/N's POV: A breezy fall night complimented the hot apple cider in my hands, the motion of the wind whipping past me every now and then. Awaiting the pack's return from patrol, I found myself lost in the ambiance of the forest not noticing the figure behind me.

A shrill shriek left my mouth, surprised by the sudden hands on my shoulder.

"Paul Lahote that is not funny, you would've owed Emily a new cup and a new shirt for yours truly." Grumbling as I readjusted myself, wrapping my cardigan around to shield myself from the cold.

"You should've seen your face," Paul choked out as he doubled over before continuing, "You looked exactly like the scream painting." Tears spilling from his eyes as he clutched his stomach.

"Shut it Lahote, one more word and I'll make sure your eyebrows are shaved in the morning," I muttered before going back in for another sip.

Trying to shift the topic, I asked him a stupid question. Well, it didn't seem terrible at the time but...it was really a stupid question.

"Sooooo.. how's that girl that you like? What was her name again? Rachael?" I questioned, my eyes looking straight ahead at the moving trees, ignoring the twinge in my heart and tears slowly coming up.

"I've moved on, she wasn't right for me. I've found someone new anyways, I think her name was...Michelle?" He hesitated, looking to my face before continuing, "How about you? What's your love life been like loser?"

"First of all Lahote, watch your mouth before something worse happens," biting back at his sly remark before proceeding, "I don't know...I mean I used to really like Jacob but with him being so obsessed with Bella...I just don't know anymore, I guess to some extent I still like him. I think I like this other guy too, I just don't know though, he might only see me as a friend, it's difficult to assume my relationship with him." I sighed out before taking another sip out of my cider.

"Is it someone from the pack?" Paul asked, turning his body to me. I scoffed before simply turning away, looking at the road now.

"So it is huh?" His voice raising a bit. "Are you just going to ignore me like that? Are you just a guy hopper now? Now that you can't get Jacob are you just going for anyone now?" Practically yelling now, Paul stood up and pulling my shoulder so I would be facing him.

"LAHOTE WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?!" I screamed back before standing up. Confused by his sudden mood swing, one moment he was joking around, and the next thing I knew, we were in a shouting match.

Hearing the disturbance outside, Sam stepped out just in time to see Paul's shaking form.

A booming voice could be heard from Sam.

"Paul I want you to go into the woods and come back when you can think clearly." A simple order that not even Paul could disobey, glaring at me along the way before shifting and running into the woods, snarling.

Tears blurred my vision, confused and frustrated by his sudden outburst. Did I say something wrong?

Trickling down my face, a vile feeling got caught in my throat. It was unfair, why was he allowed to get mad whenever I talked about my crushes even when I haven't shown my distaste towards him? Hell, I've been one of the most supportive people in his life.

I choked out a simple goodbye to Sam before running to my car, handing the cup to Sam along the way. Overwhelmed by it all, all I wanted to do was be in bed.

Speeding off after I started the car, tears seemed to be endlessly falling. I've never once been angry at him for liking someone, even when I liked him myself. I never let it get in the way of his choices but the second I open my mouth about something, I practically get called a whore by my best friend.

Running up my stairs, I faceplanted into the pillow before letting the tears all out. I hate him, I hate him for being so kind to me and so reliable, I hate it. I hate you Lahote for making me fall for you so easily. I really hate you for making me put my feelings second, always.

Drifting off to sleep as the tears glued my eyes shut, exhausted from the events of the night.

Days passed and no words were spoken between us as we avoided each other actively. The pack seemed to be in disarray as they told me how Paul's temper had managed to get worse like it wasn't bad before. Whatever he isn't my concern anymore.

"I don't know Emily, his outburst was just random, it's not something I can explain. But what I can explain is that he's a jerk and I'm not apologizing for something I didn't do," Scoffing while helping her make muffins, "plus, I've only been nothing but supportive of him, I never even told him my own feelings and I was planning to but...well...you know..." My voice trailed off, zoning out on the task before Emily shook me out of it.

"Apologizing is not what I'm asking you to do, I'm just asking you to talk to him again and tell him or something cause knowing Paul and his stubbornness, he'll never talk to you first." Holding my shoulder and resting her head on me while doing her puppy eyes. I sighed, caving in.

"Fine, but you owe me 2 weeks' worth of muffins and breakfast," I demanded before setting the batter down and grabbing my coat, throwing it over my shoulder. While searching for the umbrella to aid me with the rain, I questioned her if she knew where he would be, no clue.

I ran around the house and the usual areas that Paul and I would hang around, but he was nowhere to be found. I sighed, thinking of the cliff as the final spot and deciding to check it anyways. Trudging through the thick mud and the slippery slopes didn't make my journey any easier. Finally climbing up to the cliff, I saw a silhouette standing there.

I walked up slowly to him, standing a few feet behind him before saying anything.

"Lahote, can we talk," I pleaded only to be met with a harsh silence.

"Can we have a normal civil conversation or are you going to keep acting like a little child?" Fed up, I snapped and retorted back at the silence. Paul finally turned around to me, clearly bewildered by my statement.

"Don't call me a child Y/N, especially when you hop crushes like an elementary student." He responded before closing in on me.

"You don't know anything, Paul." Spitting in his face as I maintained eye contact, my head tilting up.

"What do I know then huh Y/N?" Pressing me further back, "I know that you're an attention wh-"

"Ironic that it's coming from you Paul," taunting him and his playboy ways.

"If you would just give me a second to speak and explain before you got your fucking boxers in a twist, we wouldn't be here." I accused, before facing my back to him and watching the trees instead.

"So what I used to like Jacob, every time I mentioned him I saw how your face would drop. Don't think I'm stupid Lahote." Scoffing as I could practically feel him tensing up as I dropped it.

"So what if I like someone from the pack-"

"OH, SO IT'S TRUE HUH?" He shouted before I raised a hand to silence him once more. Just then, it struck me. Was...Paul Lahote...the infamous playboy...jealous? Wanting to prove it, I pushed it further to see his true reaction.

"Why does it matter Paul, can I not like other people? I mean Quil has been looking really good these da-" I quipped before I was cut off once more.

"I'M BETTER FOR YOU Y/N, FORGET HIM, FORGET JACOB, WHY CAN'T YOU START REALIZING HOW MUCH I LIKE YOU?!" The deep voice seemed to echo through the forest as he yelled at the top of his lungs. His breathing labored now as he was truly vulnerable. "I've liked you for so long and, I imprinted on you. Me saying that I liked those other girls were false, I just wanted to see your reaction but you never opposed or showed anything besides being supportive." Scowling before asking again, "Why can't you just not be supportive for once."

A sigh left my mouth, this absolute dumbass. Everyone else has always teased me about how I looked at him, saying that he might find out if I'm not careful enough. I was never careful, I stared at him with admiration in my eyes every minute, waiting for him to realize, but I guess he was half-blind when it came to my own emotions.

I turned back to him, grabbing his face and peering back into his chocolate eyes.

"Paul, have you never seen how I looked at you?" Questioning the poor man.

"No? I thought those eyes were for Jake onl-" I cut him off, lips crashing and his hands moving to my waist eventually. We stood there, lips locked, under the full moon as the rainy cloud parted way to illuminate the two young lovers.

After what felt like years, we broke away.

"If only you weren't so jealous all the time Lahote, we could've had that kiss much sooner." Giggling before letting a yelp out as he picked me up with one arm and slinging me over his shoulder.

"Shut it," muttering something about me being Bella 2.0.

On the way home, I studied his features. Realizing that this hot-headed man was now all mine felt like pure bliss, I giggled before speeding up and holding his hands.

I'd love Paul, through all his flaws, and yes, even his jealousy.

[fanficshiddles]

Bargaining, One Shot (Slight spoilers for Ep5!)

Summary: You get pruned and think you’ve died, but when you wake up you find President Loki staring down at you. You beg him to help you. So he makes a bargain with you. In return for safety, he wants your body. 

Warnings: Dub-con

-

Your eyes fluttered open, expecting to see some kind of bright light or angels, perhaps. Or maybe you’d gone to the depths of hell, so would see demons and fire everywhere. But you were surprised, and confused, when you opened them to see dark clouds above and a man with black hair and a weird horned crown popped into view, looming over you, with some others surrounding him.

‘Oh dear, is she dead?’ President Loki asked.

One of the others he was with nudged your shoulder with his foot. Making you groan as you blinked hard to focus.

‘Apparently not.’ Loki chuckled.

You rolled round and got up onto your hands and knees, looking up at the men surrounding you. There was then an almighty roar from not too far away. You looked over and saw the most terrifying monster in the clouds.

‘You’re not a Loki, are you?’ Loki asked you.

‘A what? Loki? What do you mean?’ You frowned.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Clearly not. Waste of our time.’

‘Do we kill her, sire?’ One of the men asked, making your eyes widen.

‘No, Alioth will get her soon enough.’ Loki sneered and turned around to leave with the others.

You quickly put two and two together that Alioth was the name of the terrifying cloud monster that was getting closer and closer.

‘WAIT!’ You scrambled towards Loki. ‘Please… Please, don’t leave me here.’ You begged.

He turned back to face you, raising an eyebrow. ‘Why should I help you? You’re not one of us, no one but Loki’s survive here.’

‘Please… I’ll do whatever you want, anything, just please don’t leave me here. I beg you.’ You cried and was literally begging at his feet. You looked up at him through teary eyes. ‘I’m scared, please.’

Loki tilted his head as he stared down at you. Then he tapped his lower lip in thought for a moment, before a wicked smirk spread across his lips. You noticed he was then actually looking at you rather thoroughly for the first time.

‘I suppose, having a woman around could be rather useful.’ He hummed. ‘It has been so long since I’ve felt the soft lips of another…’ He reached down and brushed his thumb against your lower lip, making your lip quiver at his meaning.

Though the thought of doing sexual favours in return for safety didn’t exactly sound like a bad idea in this situation. Besides, he was rather good looking. And considering you’d thought you had died, the chance at survival was too great to pass up.

‘Please.’ You whispered again, pleading him with your eyes.

You knew he was dangerous, it was obvious. The fact that he and the others with him were even alive in this place. Even at first glance you knew it wasn’t a safe place to be.

He stood up straight and slid his hands into his pockets again. Then he nodded once. ‘Come with me.’

You scrambled up to your feet and followed as he started heading off quickly, it was hard keeping up with his large strides, but you managed. The others were staring at you weirdly, not sure whether to trust you or not. Since they didn’t trust anyone, really.

The monster was getting closer, making you shake more and more in fear. But Loki was completely calm as he led the way. Then eventually, after what felt like hours but was actually just a few minutes, you came to a large circular hatch in the ground.

Some of the others opened it up and started climbing down. Loki looked at you and motioned to the ladder. But you were frozen, the thought of going down there and being trapped god knows where…

‘Suit yourself. You can come down and take your chance with me, or you can stay out here all alone with the monster. But no one apart from Loki’s ever survive here alone.’ He said darkly, smirking a little.

He went towards the ladder, but you quickly moved forward after hearing another roar from the monster. ‘I’ll come down.’ You blurted out quickly.

Loki grinned and motioned for you to go first as he took a small step back. You hesitantly began to climb down the ladder and Loki followed. When you reached the bottom, you turned around and were faced with even more people that you assumed were other Loki’s. They all had various weapons aimed at you, making your eyes widen.

‘Hey, hey, hey! Back off, she’s no threat. She’s mine.’ Loki growled at them all roughly when he got down the ladder behind you.

They instantly backed down, obeying their King.

Loki gripped your upper arm firmly and led you through the other Loki’s, he started spouting some green energy from his hand when one of them tried to get over to you. You gulped hard, just what exactly had you gotten yourself into?

He took you through to what you assumed was his private bedroom. It was just as weird and dark as the other room. But this one at least had a bed.

Using some magic, Loki locked the door without a key.

‘Well now.’ He said as he shrugged off his black jacket, leaving the rest of his clothes on. But he started rolling his sleeves up his forearms. You weren’t sure why, but you felt the green waistcoat and tie really suited him, like it was his colour.

‘Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?’ He growled low, licking his lips.

You felt your own mouth go dry as you looked down and saw a bulge in his trousers. Not knowing for sure what he might be capable of, and holding up your end of the bargain, you walked over to him and sank down to your knees.

A smirk tugged on his lips as he gazed down at you. You were so nervous as you reached up and slowly started palming at him through his trousers. God, he felt so big. You were kind of scared to see for sure.

‘Come on, pet. Don’t keep me waiting, it’s not too late for me to chuck you back outside to the monster.’ He said in warning as he narrowed his eyes at you.

With a gulp, you began to free his cock. And when you did, it didn’t ease your nerves at all. You felt his piercing gaze upon you as you tentatively started stroking him, slowly becoming bolder and bolder as you got used to his rather intimidating size.

‘Don’t be scared. This beast doesn’t bite much, unlike the one outside.’ He chuckled.

You licked your lips and then looking up at him, you leaned forward and took him into your mouth. His eyes fluttered and his mouth parted in a throaty groan when he felt your warm mouth engulf him.

‘That’s it, good girl.’ He growled and reached down to slide his long fingers through your hair.

You felt a delightful shiver run down your spine at his praise for some reason. You hollowed your cheeks and tried to suck him down as far as you could, pleasing him that you were trying. But what you couldn’t take down your throat you made up for with your tongue work.

His hand in your hair suddenly tightened, and to your shock he started fucking your mouth roughly. Giving you no option but to take him down your throat, making you choke on him. You put your hands on his lean thighs for support and was pleasantly surprised with how muscular they felt beneath the fabric. But you didn’t get long to think on it as your throat started to hurt.

‘Your mouth is simply wonderful. Oh, yes. I think this was a very good bargain indeed.’ He snarled.

When he was close to cumming, he eased up and just rested on your tongue. You didn’t want to disappoint him, to have him toss you out. So you moaned around him, causing vibrations to dance all over his cock. And you moved your tongue along the underside of him, doing everything just right. So when he came, he came hard, shooting down your throat. You did your best to swallow all of his cum, some dribbled down your chin but that only made him lust after you even more.

After his loud moaning and grunting, he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. But his eyes were still full of dark lust as he pulled out of your mouth.

‘Get on your hands and knees.’ He demanded gruffly, his cock bobbing, still aroused.

You were slightly startled when he waved his hand and suddenly you were completely naked. But you didn’t get time to dwell on it, because he moved behind you as you did as you were told and got into position, you gasped when you felt his fingers sliding against your cunt. ‘Ohhh, pet.’ He cooed and rubbed over your clit, making your body jump. ‘It seems this bargain is not only satisfying for me, but it seems it is for you too.’

You hung your head down in shame at how wet you were just from sucking him off. But Loki’s firm grip in your hair suddenly tugged your head right back, making you gasp.

‘No, no. Do not hang your head in shame. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sucking your King off.’ He growled seductively into your ear, then licked up the side of your neck, making you whimper.

He let go of your hair and instead wrapped his hand around the front of your neck as he lined up with your sopping wet cunt. In one smooth thrust, he was inside of you, filling you up completely. His hand around your neck controlled your breathing, only letting you do so when he deemed fit.

You had never been so aroused in your life. It was evident with the obscene noises coming from between you both as Loki pounded into you.

Your own orgasm hit you like a train crash, you’d never felt anything so animalistic and purely chaotic in your life. It felt so rushed and needy, but it was the most mind-blowing orgasm you’d ever had. Not long ago you thought you had died, and now you felt like you were dying all over again but this time in over pleasure. With Loki laughing wickedly over you from behind as he spilled into you from his own orgasm.

He collapsed on top of you, knocking you down to the cold hard ground on your stomach. But you didn’t care much, feeling his heavy weight on top of you didn’t bother you either.

‘Mmm… This is a good deal indeed.’ He murmured as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. ‘I give you my word, that I will keep you alive and safe, pet. If you keep your body available to me, always. Can you do that?’

Your mind was so fuzzy, you could barely even think straight. But you nodded and managed to squeak out your answer. ‘Yes… My King.’

[wornoutmouse]

Bakugou Birthday Bash

Yall already know, we gon act like i aint disapear

I got 40 different things that I’m writing about right now but I got to get something out for fireball here. I KNOW I’M LATE ASSHATS CALM DOWN!

Fun Fact: Guys play with our nipples cause they think they feel the same as theirs. This isn’t true because a guy’s nipples are 3 times more sensitive than a female’s. 

Fun Fact 2: Getting your cervix hit during intercourse is only pleasurable to VERY few individuals and overall causes pain or discomfort to the majority.

Exhibitionist, 3-some, rough sex, train, consent is sexy, slight dacryphillia

You could feel your heart beating with anticipation, in your mind, you repeat the same mantra over and over again. “This is for Katsuki.” Currently, Bakugou, Kirishima, and yourself were having a movie night. You had spent the day with Katsuki dragging him throughout the city taking him to various places for his 25th birthday.

In the morning, you made him breakfast in bed consisting of smiley face porridge with the eyes being eggs, smile being bacon, with sausage eyebrows. Bakugou was not amused, to say the least. Afterwords you did his hair separating the blond hair into two braids marveling at the black streaks intertwining themselves. “Do you like it?” Bakugou sleepily grunts, burying his face into your cleavage when you finished. “I just want to go back to bed.”Shaking your head you grab your outfit and walk towards the bathroom. “No can do Kats, I go the whole day planned for you, this isn’t going to be like your last birthday.” 

After going out to the shooting range, a nearby spa, and having brunch at his parent’s place much to his distress. “Katsuki put a smile on your face for once, you know you love my Unagi!” You laugh as you watch Bakugou pout at the feeling of his mother ruffling his hair. “Shut it old hag..” His father only chuckles before resuming his conversation with you.

When you finished the reunion, you drop Bakugou off at home before going to pick up Kirishima. As you drove back, you could tell Kirishima could sense your nervousness. He placed a hand on your thigh to get your attention, “You know that you can always opt-out of this, I don’t mind we can just have a normal movie night. “This” was a plan that you had both been creating together. 

Ever since high school, you knew Bakugou had a soft spot for the redhead going far past causal friendship. And it wasn’t until last year that you accidentallt heard Bakugou mumbling his name in his sleep accompanied by soft moans. At first, you understandably felt a bit jealous despite being in a relationship with Bakugou for the last 6 years but as you thought about things more and more, a mischievous thought came to you, now leading up to the current moment.

“I’m fine Ejirou, this is just something I’m not used to.” you exhale and smile a bit more determined after saying your doubts out loud. “But I can’t back out on my own plan.” Kirishima flashes his signature shark tooth smile before facing forwards again. Now, with both of you sitting with Bakugou in between, the tension was high in the air and it was up to you to make the first move. 

“This movie is stupid, why would she even run after him after he called her stupid!” “Uh, Bakugou, you call me and Y/n stupid all the time?” Bakugou huffs leaning back on the couch. “Yeah but that’s different...you are.” You would have laughed if you hadn’t decided to make your move. You rest your arm on Bakugou’s shoulder playing with his braid that had long since frayed from your day’s activities.

He pays no mind, eyes focused on the corny romance movie he rented from Redbox. The movement of bright yellow catches Kirishima’s eyes as the TV screen flashes white from a scene change. He decided to take the more direct approach by putting his hand on Bakugou’s thighs and squeezing the skin there. Katsuki’s hair skips from your grasp as he twitches from the contact. “Hey watch your hands shity hair.”

Kirishima hums but doesn’t move his hand. You allow silence to go on for a moment as Bakugou gets back into his movie. When Bakugou relaxes enough, you snake your hand to his crotch and squeeze his dick through the pants. Bakugou’s attention lands on you almost immediately as his hand clamps down on your wrist. You ignore the tight grasp and rub your thumb over his dick, feeling it twitch with nervous interest. 

Bakugou leans towards you harshly whispering, “What are you doing idiot, Ejirou is right here.” You bite your bottom lip before whispering back your reply, “Well you better be quiet then don’t you think Katsuki?” Ruby eyes glared at you but the blond remained silent before gripping his braid nervously. He bounces his left leg as you resume your light teasing and does his best to focus again. 

You notice Kirishima’s movements and feel adrenaline run throughout your body. Kirishima does the same as you, whispering in Katsuki’s ear, lips only a breath away from touching skin. “Hey Bakugou, we should have brought some snacks don’t you think? I’m kinda hungry.” Underneath your hand, Bakugou’s breathing falters, “Ah, yeah well you should have brought your own snacks I’m not getting up from here.” Kirishima peeks at you from behind Bakugou’s head sending you a wink. 

Rubbing his wrist Kirishima pulls a hair tie from his arm and puts it between his teeth. At the same time, you unzip Bakugou’s pants and make direct contact with his cock. Kirishima focuses on how Bakugou’s adam’s apple bobs when he makes eye contact with him. Bakugou’s eyes watch as Kirishima’s muscles ripple as he ties his hair up into a bun and you resist the urge to laugh as Bakugou’s dick goes full mast making a smacking sound as it hits his stomach. 

That seems to bring him back to reality and he quickly covers himself when he catches Eijirou staring at his exposed groin. “Ah shit, what the hell Y/N!?” Bakugou jerks his head towards you accusingly, cheeks red with embarrassment and teeth bared in anger as he prepares to chew you out. Your hand, now resting behind Katsuki, motions Kirishima to Bakugou’s dick as the blond chews you out. “Are you trying to make me fucking upset-ah fuck!” 

With one hand by his face to tuck stray hair behind his ear, Kirishima uses his other hand to hold Katsuki’s shaft, hollowing his cheeks around the rest of his dick. The look of confusion was forever present as Katsuki tosses an apologetic look at you willing his eyes to focus despite the sudden onslaught of pleasure. “Sh..Shitty hair what the hell do you think you’re fucking d-doin?!” Bakugou’s hips jerk up as he rises to the top of his toes. He places his hand on top of Kirishima’s head but not to pull him away as he tried to make it seem.

Eijirou jerked his cock delicately before mouthing at Bakugou’s balls that tightened underneath his lips. “I don’t...Y-Y/n fuck, I’m sorry...ah..its....I...feels so damn good1” Remorseful moans leave Katsuki’s mouth as his eyes screw shut. You push his hair away from his face in order to see him better. The hand you had laying in his lap is grabbed and gripped tightly almost as if he was afraid to let go of you. 

With his head tossed back, you take the initiative to bite his neck softly, drinking in the whimpers that exit his mouth. “Relax and enjoy your birthday present Katsuki.” You turn on a table lamp and slide to the floor, pulling Kirishima down with you. With the lights now blazing, Bakugou could no longer chalk up the current situation as a really bizarre dream as took in the view of both of you occupying his lap. Kirishima abandons his cock for you to take care of as he slides his tongue up Bakugou’s toned stomach.

“Relax Bakugou and let us take care of you.” Katsuki helplessly grips Kirishima’s shoulder with gritted teeth. “Get your fucking mouth off my nipple asshat...it feels fucking weird.” Both you and Kirishima chuckled at the insults Bakugou attempted to use to hide his embarrassment. Kirishima moans obnoxiously as he rolls Bakugou’s nipple with his tongue before biting down. “You two planned this didn’t you?” 

Bakugou’s usual attitude came back before you could even notice and by the time you did, it was too late. The hand that was previously caressing your head tightened against your scalp and you were soon being pushed down Bakugou’s cock. Kirishima looked down at the sound of you choking, eyes going wide at your puffed cheeks and teary eyes, but it was too late for him as well. Kirishima’s man-bun was grabbed and yanked giving Katsuki access to his neck that he abused with bites. “Fucking assholes had me over here confused and shit all for your little birthday present.”

His strokes were slow and torturous to your throat, grinding slowly inside before stopping and holding your face there just to feel your mouth constrict due to limited oxygen. “And how long have you known shitty hair? Tell me the truth and I’ll give you a reward” Kirishima (the snitch) winces as his hair is pulled again. “About half a year.” Bakugou hums and kisses Kirishima. Through watering eyes, you watch as Bakugou forced his tongue inside his best friend’s mouth. “Good boy.” Looking down at you, you feel a shiver go throughout your body and you could tell you were in for a rude awakening.

“Is it safe to assume that you were the source Y/n?” Your forearm is grabbed and you are out on top of Bakugou’s lap. “Yes.” Your answer is rewarded with a slap on your covered ass. “I’m gonna make sure you regret that. Both of you, take off your clothes.” Pouting you poke Bakugou’s chest, “No, that’s not how this is going to work, we both wanted to make you feel good.” Bakugou raised an eyebrow before looking at Kiri who shakes his head innocently disagreeing in order to save his own skin.

“You are gonna make me feel good.” Bakugou slides his hands under your shirt pulling it off. “I’m going to feel so good watching you two break.” Bakugou caresses your chin placing a ginger kiss on your chin before pushing you off. “Now take these damn clothes off.” 

You and Eijirou watch him leave the living room and go elsewhere, “We really are in for it aren’t we?” You nod solemnly, “There is nothing good coming out of our bedroom. I'll tell you that Kiri.” Kirishima sat steadily, face and shoulders painted red with a warm blush, “Well at least he took it well.” you jokingly slap Kirishima’s shoulder to ease the throbbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. The male’s eyes look at the hand on his shoulder for a moment, contemplating his next move. You watch, heart rate increasing at the serious look  the normally smiling man held. Kirishima grabs your hand and places it over his chest, sliding it down his abdomen effectively bringing you closer to him.

When you were close enough, you and Eijirou lock lips passionately. His right hand held your face gently as his left pulled your lower body towards him. Your mouth consumed the moans Kirishima let out as the tip of his cock caught the rim of your belly button. When you pull away, one of Kirishima’s shark-like teeth nips into your lower lip, drawing blood. The look of you out of breath, chest swelling, and plump kiss-bitten lips turned Kirishima on more than he thought he could be. “She’s sexy without even trying huh?”

Bakugou’s gravel-like voice startles you both, Katsuki walked closer before squatting behind you. Your afro is drawn back by Bakugou and he forcefully kisses you, exploring your mouth feverishly leaving you unable to keep up. You are the one to pull away when you become out of breath and allow yourself to be manhandled against Katsuki’s chest while he leans against the couch. Scarred hands spread your legs exposing you to Kirishima who had no problem ogling you. “You see how wet she is for you shitty hair, don’t let my presence stop you.”

Eijirou scoots closer on his knees, grabbing your legs. When he brings his face closer, Katsuki spreads your pussy lips apart with his index and ring finger, stroking your clit with his middle finger. You sigh into the feeling before jumping when Kirishima slaps your cunt, “Look at that she’s quivering.” Eijirou hikes your legs over his shoulders,  burying his face in your warm cunt without a care about your juices covering his face. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking incessantly at the small nub, heightening your pleasure. 

Reaching past you, Bakugou holds Kiri’s head and presses his face down into you, “Get in there Eijirou and quit playing before I kick your ass out.” You squeeze your eyes shut as a warm muscle pushes its way inside your needy hole. Your back arches and Bakugou is forced to hold your legs open lest you close them shut on Kirishima’s head. Bakugou leaves tender kisses behind your ear, rubbing your legs tenderly. The touches sent feelings like electricity through your core and you felt your blood race as you came closer to orgasm.

Kirishima laps at your pussy once more before pulling away, leaving you on the very edge of your release making you whine. “She’s so sweet Katsuki.” Kirishima whimpers softly, before messily kissing Bakugou. Their tongues wrapped against each other as they share your taste. From the small of your back, you could feel Bakugou grind his hips against you. You reach your hand down to finish yourself off but without even looking your hand is grabbed by Kirishima who instead guides you to his throbbing cock.

 It was red, most likely from the light teased your living room carpet caused while he was eating you out.The groan that you rip from Kirishima as you stroked him, shocked both you and Katsuki. 

Kirishima stops the kiss, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two. Kirishima’s red eyes narrowed at you as he spoke to Bakugou, “F...Forgive me Bakugou, but I need to be inside someone or someone inside me before I burst.” Bakugou smirks holding your chin so you can look at him, “What do you think princess?” You look at Kirishima who indeed looked to be on his last straw with a smirk. “It’s your birthday Katsuki, you should get first pick.”

Bakugou furrowed his brow more than your thought possible, “You sure you don’t mind?” Playfully biting his cheek you give a reassuring smile, “I planned this baby, if I mined, we wouldn’t be here.” Bakugou grunts in response, giving you time to get off of his lap before pushing Kirishima onto his knees, “Hey asshole, remember that time you painted my gauntlets purple?” Kirishima smirked, “You still mad about that? Lavender is your color Bakubro.” Katsuki glared at the redhead, slapping his ass, “Don’t call me that when I’m going to be balls deep inside you.” Looking back over at you, Bakugou gets an idea, “Stop twiddling your fingers and making me feel bad and get over here.”

You did a shit job at hiding your happiness as you cutely scooted towards the two males. “Shitty hair, you’re going to fuck her while I fuck you, and if you cum inside I’m going to blow your ass off the face of the earth.” It took until Kirishima was positioned over you and Bakugou had taken place behind him that Kirishima finally realized the reality of Bakugou’s threat. “Wait a second, how do you expect me not to cum from all the stimulation?!” You watched Bakugou shrug over Kirishima’s shoulder, “Not my problem.” A disgusting squelching sound is heard and you feel Kirishima shiver as he laid over you. “Have you done this before Katsuki?” 

Bakugou was silent and Kirishima’s eyes widened and you quickly grab his face to avoid his fear-stricken expression reaching the excited blond. “He’s got this Kiri, trust me, can’t be any different than normal anal right?!” Kirishima rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the skin there, “Is this you telling me you’ve done anal before?” You both laugh, having a moment of comfort despite the strange situation. “Mmmm.” Kirishima hums quietly, vibrating against your skin, you could feel him rocking against you and most likely against Bakugou’s fingers. “Ahh, fuck~” 

“You good Eijirou?” Bakugou rests against Kirishima’s body, biting his shoulder blade. “Y-yeah, I’m good.” Reaching in between the two of you, and you felt him lining himself against your opening. “Ah, you’re...you’re not wet anymore. I’m sorry.” Kirishima puts his fingers in his mouth, briefly stopping to whimper loudly around them, “Ah there it is.” Bakugou smirks from behind Kirishima, and judging on how much Kirishima starts to shake, he repeatedly abuses said spot. It is then your turn to feel pleasure as Kirishima takes the task to finger you open.

You raise your legs and wrap them around Kirishima’s back to get a better angle and the room is mostly silent besides the obvious noises of prep. Something that made both you and Bakugou dawn a notable smirk was how loud Kirishima was being compared to the rest of you. From Bakugou’s end, Kirishima was fucking himself back on his fingers sucking them in greedily, hips rotating just to be able to feel his prostate being stimulated again. From your end, Kirishima’s hands shook as he tried to angle himself inside of you so much so you had to help him. “I’m so damn close, fuck. Bakugou you gotta give me a moment man!” 

Both you and Kirishima moaned when Bakugou smacked the red head’s ass causing his hips to jerk forward. “You better hold it in, I haven’t even started yet dumbass.” Kirishima grunted as Bakugou penetrated him. “Y/n, I can’t, fuck I can’t!” Eijirou had his eyes clenched shut. Bakugou snapped his hips against him, making Kirishima fuck you as well, “Come on Eijirou, you can do it, you feel so good.” 

Kirishima’s cock curved right, making your toes curl from the stimulation. Bakugou held onto Kirishima’s hips hard, most likely to leave indents later on. Kirishima propped himself up on his elbows and thrust into you, simultaneously meeting Bakugou’s thrusts. “Y/n, you feel so damn good. So fucking w-warm!” You bear down on Kirishima’s cock, squeezing around him. “Why are you talking so much Eijirou, you close to cumming?” Kirishima narrowed his eyes at Bakugou’s taunt, “Fuuck, Y/n why does it feel like he’s getting harder, eveRy time.” The sound of Kirishima’s voice cracking was comical yet arousing. 

Your fingers curl on Kirishima’s back as his thrusts got sporadic occasionally thrusting so hard he grazed your cervix, causing brief discomfort. “Your so damn tight, Eijirou, damn!” Bakugou’s stomach contorted with each thrust, feeling Kirishima’s hole constrict around his cock at every drag. It was as if Kirishima was simply a doll between the two of you, that you used as a stress ball. Kirishima was loud at this point, gripping the sheet around your head hard enough for him to rip even without activating his quirk. 

Wordless babbles, left his mouths, his eyes rolled behind his head, as Bakugou speeds up. “You should see the look on his face Katsuki!” Kirishima kisses you roughly as a way to combat your teasing. His tongue lazily roams your mouth, lips vibrating at the broken moans you both let out from Bakugou’s brutal onslaught.

Kirishima quieted, your ears barely picking up on him muttering ‘fuck’ repeatedly. “B-Bakugou, stop, I’m gonna cum, let me pull out.” Kirishima tosses his hand back, brushing it against Bakugou’s abdomen in an effort to slow him down. “What nonsense are you speaking Eijirou? We aren’t stopping till I cum” Bakugou grabs Kirishima’s struggling arm, and holds it behind his back. The rest of Kirishima’s weight flops down on you creating sweet friction against your clit, and Kirishima’s modestly trimmed bush of hair. You hold Kiri closer with your legs as your orgasm builds to greater heights. “But you said-” “I know what I said dumbass, and it still stands. Now shut up and take it.”

Eijirou moans as Bakugou speeds up his thrusts. Bakugou holds him down by his shoulder no longer giving Kirishima space to even thrust into you. Bakugou relents on thrusting and instead relies on the sheer force his weight caused every time he slammed down on Kirishima’s hips. “Bakugou-” “Shut up for fuck sakes!” Bakugou clamps his hands on Kirihsima’s mouth and nose, cutting off his hair flow. You grab “Katuski’s hair and pull him towards you in a violent kiss. 

You make a sound of alarm at the feeling of warmth feeling your body. Bakugou uncovers Kirishima’s mouth feeling him tighten so hard around his dick and Bakugou cums as well after a few weak thrusts. Kirishima had tears of overstimulation flowing down his face, mouth open as he continued to pump hot cum into your hole. “Damn you really couldn’t hold on huh?” Kirishima shook his head, clearly on cloud nine, still filling you with so much cum, you contemplated on taking to brands of birth control. Bakugou looked down at you, watching as you pet Eijirou’s head reassuringly. “Did you cum?” You shook your head, kissing Eijirou’s temple. 

Bakugou nodded before jerking Kirishima’s legs pulling him out of you at the same time making you both hiss from the pinch-like pain. Bakugou turns Kirishima on his back and helps your straddle him. Staring up at you with wide eyes,  Kirishima felt like prey under the watch of hungry lions. 

“What...what’s going on guys?” Your thumb rubs over Kirishima’s hardened nipples, watching his toned belly contort from the external stimulation. “Kiri..” you pout your lips mockingly before grabbing Kirishima’s cock that laid limp against his stomach. His red eyes followed your body down to your pussy. You rubbed his dick over your cunt, hovering over him. His hips twitching when your thumb presses down underneath his girthy head.

“I haven’t came yet.”

[falcqns]

til forever falls apart

pairing: daddy!Chris x little!Reader

summary: daddy!Chris helps you through a staff meeting.

warnings: age gap (reader is 20-21), DDLG relationship. mentions of food, and eating. mentions of the pandemic, slight angst, but mainly fluff.

a/n: hope you enjoy!

to say you were excited for this staff meeting would be an understatement.

you were insanely excited.

when covid hit, you and the rest of your coworkers had been laid off, and had yet to go back to work, so a few months in your bosses decided to do monthly staff meetings.

they weren't really staff meetings, they were more 'check ins', where you just caught up with each other and talked about any new updates concerning your eventual return to work, as well as reviewing the policies and procedures that had to be done each month, regardless of covid or not.

you loved your job, and the fact that you had been laid off was not easy, but Chris swooped in immediately and saved the day. he told you to come and stay with him until you were able to go back to work, and you agreed.

you'd been living with him for almost a year now and loving it. you had been able to let your little side flourish, and be yourself the majority of the time, something Chris was adoring. he loved taking care of you, whether you were big or little.

you had originally dreaded the meeting, as you assumed you'd have to be big for it, but Chris told you that you didn't have to be, as long as you didn't talk. you got excited at that, and you didn't dread it anymore.

you'd also told him that you didn't care if he showed up in your staff meeting and he planned to take full advantage of that.

you had just logged onto the zoom call, and was greeting your coworkers, when Chris walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

you glanced back at him, but rolled your eyes and turned back around when he wiggled his eyebrows at you above the glass. you turned back to your meeting just as one of your bosses shared her screen, and began to go over the policies and procedures.

you heard the oven turn on behind you, but you ignored it and tried to pay attention to your boss. eventually you smelled something good so you turned around to see Chris making your favourite meal, but pouted when he shook his head and motioned for you to face the computer again.

"nope. pay attention." he scolded in his "Cap" voice as he called it, and you sighed, falling deeper into your headspace at his slight scold.

you turned around to the computer, and focused on what your bosses were saying. the smell of the food started getting to you a little while later, and focusing became too difficult.

you were getting frustrated with yourself because you couldn't focus and all you wanted was Chris to sit with you while you attended the meeting, but he was busy making food, which upset you even more. to top it off, your boss was calling on people and having them read some of the policies, something you knew you wouldn't be able to do while little.

you felt like shrinking back into your seat, but you also didn't want to be called on, something that would definitely happen if you moved to abruptly.

but, you were called on anyway, and that was your breaking point. you felt the tears welling up in your eyes, and you shut the camera off before getting up and running into Chris's arms and sobbing.

he looked down at you, and then up at the computer, where you boss was calling your name and asking if you were there.

"you have to answer, honey." he said, but you shook your head.

"no! can' do it!" you said, and Chris sighed, thinking your anxiety was acting up.

"yes you can honey. you're a big girl, I know you can do it." he encouraged, but you still shook your head.

"no, dada! I small." you explained in your little voice, and Chris finally clued in to what was going on.

"oh honey, it's okay." he said, and he lifted you onto his hip. he walked you over to the computer and sat in your chair. he typed a quick message into the chat that you had to walk away for a minute before relaxing back in the chair. "it's okay sweetie. you don't have to talk," he explained, letting you cuddle into him for a few minutes. "just listen, okay?" he said, and you nodded. he stood up and placed you back in the chair.

you waited until your boss moved on from reading and turned your camera back on, giving your boss a wave when she welcomed you back.

you leaned your head on your hand while you listened, and a few moments later Chris was walking over with the food he made you. he put the plate down in front of you, as well as a cup of milk (in a big girl cup, with a straw).

he leaned close to your ear and told you what was on your plate, so there was no anxiety going on in your little brain about what foods were there.

"I gave you some chicken, corn, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas. there's gravy in this bowl for it if you want some, but you don't have to eat that if you don't want it, it's just for dipping if you want it." he explained, and you nodded, both of you missing how your co workers had stopped talking to watch Chris speak to you. "I want you to eat a little bit of everything. you don't have to eat it all, but at least 5 big girl bites of each thing, okay?" he said, and you nodded. "good girl." he commented and you beamed up at him, earning a kiss on the forehead.

you turned back to the meeting, and your boss continued talking.

you ate your food as the meeting continued on, and just as everyone was talking about what they had been up to recently, the (completely empty!!) plate was taken away, and replaced with a bowl of your favourite ice cream.

you giggled slightly as Chris pressed a kiss to your hair, and happily ate your ice cream until the meeting ended, glad that your daddy would help you no matter what.

[crossbowking]

Honey & Whiskey

Summary: (Set throughout series) When the world ended, everything good died along with it. At least, that's what Daryl Dixon thought. But then he met a stranger in the woods and his entire world turned upside down.

A/N: HOLY MOLY. I can't believe it's here! I've been working on this story since October and I'm so excited for y'all to finally read it. This story is absolutely my favorite of all time and it's 20,835 words of pure Daryl POV (which is just *chef kiss*) — that being said, it’s also a slow burn...and I mean an entirely self-indulgent SLOWWWW burn. So strap in, y’all.

PSA: There are mentions of 'Dog' in this story that are sort of non-canon, especially now that we've seen a backstory as to how Daryl actually found him in the show...so for the sake of the story, let's just pretend 10.18 doesn't exist :)

Anywho, please be sure to share your thoughts with me afterward!

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

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The sun dipped below the horizon, the sky alight with brilliant orange and yellow rays.

Daryl tilted his head back, glancing up at the shifting colors as night drew near. The air was crisp, a welcomed change from the usual summer heat. The streets of Alexandria were fairly empty, most already settling into their respective homes before nightfall. Though the unusual silence was near deafening, the archer paid it no mind.

He appreciated the quiet these days.

The grass poked and prodded beneath where he sat, but he simply shifted, drawing one knee to his chest, the other leg splayed out in front of him. He picked absently at one of the holes in his worn jeans, tugging at the string hanging off the fabric.

And then he thought of her.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath Daryl’s boots as he traversed through the otherwise silent woods.

The farm was destroyed, winter was approaching, and there seemed to be an ever-looming pang of hunger in the pit of his stomach. He pushed away any inkling of weakness, forging ahead with determined strides. His people were waiting for him, hunkering down in an abandoned diner less than a mile East, hoping he’d bring back something to dull the growing ache inside all of them.

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

The thought had come so naturally it nearly took him off guard. The feeling of community, of belonging, was something he’d never felt in his entire life. It was a strange notion, but that drive, that need he felt to provide, pushed him further out into the forest.

The archer kept his footsteps light, practically imperceptible, listening for noises only a seasoned hunter could distinguish. When a twig suddenly snapped off to his left, he froze, scanning the stillness around him. He raised his crossbow, the weight familiar in his grasp as he took a small step in the direction the noise had come from.

A moment later, Daryl spotted it — a lone raccoon just a few yards ahead.

The archer felt a rush of adrenaline, a tingling sensation in his fingertips as they hovered over the trigger. He exhaled a soft breath, focusing all his attention on the animal. But with his concentration elsewhere, it wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he’d realized he was no longer alone in the woods.

Daryl spun around, coming face to face with an incredibly grotesque-looking walker, teeth bared, arms outstretched, launching itself towards him. The archer braced his arm against the biter’s throat just in time, grunting under its weight as he stumbled backward.

“Shit,” he snarled through gritted teeth, tossing his unloaded weapon aside as he fought against the attack. Using his free hand, he reached for the hunting knife secured on his belt, grabbing onto the hilt.

But before he could yank it out, the world began tilting rapidly around him.

Daryl’s back slammed against the harsh wooded ground, his foot tangled up in an exposed root. He spat another vicious curse as the walker thrashed on top of him, snapping its mangled jaw closer and closer, growling in starved desperation.

Then suddenly, it stilled.

The archer froze, his gaze locked on the unexpected sight of one of his arrows now embedded through the biter’s temple. He snapped out of his reverie, shoving the dead off his chest and scrambling back to his feet.

And then he saw her.

She stood just a few feet away, her rapid breathing mirroring his own, looking as though she was seconds away from passing out. Her hair was matted by a mixture of blood and dirt, her clothes were torn and ratted, her wide eyes seemingly too big for her gaunt features. She had a nasty cut across her temple, blood dripping down the side of her face, past her neck, pooling at the collar of her shirt.

Daryl’s eyes bounced back up to meet hers — his guarded and calloused, hers unsure and fatigued.

“I’m assuming — this — is yours?” she spoke between heaving breaths, tossing something in his direction, the motion causing her to sway unsteadily.

Daryl glanced down, spotting the raccoon he’d shot earlier now lying at his feet — but the arrow he’d used to kill it was no longer there.

Now, it was lodged through the skull of the walker that’d attacked him.

The archer focused back on the stranger — but before he could respond, her skin was suddenly paling, her body crumpling to the ground like a paper doll.

Daryl stared down at her unmoving form in bewilderment. He could tell by the shallow rise and fall of her chest that she was at least breathing. The cut on her temple was still bleeding, the wound looking fairly recent — his best guess was a concussion or exhaustion. Most likely both.

He took a small step forward, almost hesitantly. But when his approach didn’t stir the stranger, he found himself facing an unforeseen decision.

He could leave her — he should leave her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She was a complete stranger. She chose to intervene, not him. She made that choice. Not him. Her.

Though as he turned to leave, as he scooped up the limp raccoon and shoved it into his bag, as he grabbed his strewn crossbow and strapped it across his back, one thing became startlingly clear.

He couldn’t do it — he couldn’t just walk away.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

He could’ve sworn that day in the woods was an entire lifetime ago.

Rick had nearly lost his damn mind when he’d returned to the diner with not only a small woodland creature in his pack, but a stranger slung over his shoulder.

“Is she dead?” Carl pressed nosily, hovering by the booth where the stranger was now laid out, still unconscious.

Lori quickly intervened, moving forward with one hand on her protruding belly, the other grabbing onto Carl’s shoulder. “Step back, baby. Give Hershel some space to work, okay?” she cautioned, pulling the inquisitive boy away.

“Oh, it’s quite alright — I’m just about done here anyways,” Hershel drawled, setting aside the blood-soaked cloth he’d been using to tend to the stranger’s head wound.

Daryl watched the exchange from across the room, arms folded tight against his chest, ignoring the stares coming from other group members.

The front door of the diner suddenly swung open as Rick marched through. He shot the archer a disapproving look before addressing the others. “I think we’re okay,” he finally spoke, re-holstering his pistol. “If Daryl had been followed here, I’m sure we would’ve known by now. We’ll keep somebody on watch — jus’ as a precaution — an’ get back on the road first thing.”

The archer gnawed on the inside of his cheek as the rest of the group began whispering amongst themselves, clearly distressed about the possible danger his decision may have put them in.

Rick approached a moment later, his steadfast strides immediately setting Daryl on edge. “Can I speak with you?” the sheriff hissed, glancing over his shoulder and locking eyes with Lori’s worried gaze. “In private?” he added in a hushed tone before turning around and storming back outside.

Daryl scoffed under his breath, pushing away from the counter he’d been leaning against and stalking after Rick.

The archer yanked the door open, the cool air biting at his skin as he followed suit. He spotted Rick pacing back and forth across the parking lot, surveying the surrounding woods warily before spinning around and facing him head-on.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” Rick demanded, taking a step forward.

Daryl fought back the instinctual urge to be on the attack. Instead, he took a breath. “What was I supposed ta’ do, man? Jus’ leave her out there?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“You don’t bring her here,” the sheriff snapped before pinching the bridge of his nose, attempting to collect himself. “We — we have ta’ look after our own, Daryl — you know that. We have no idea who she is, where she came from, who she’s with,” he specified sharply before shaking his head. “That’s jus' not a risk I’m willin’ ta’ take. Are you?”

Daryl held Rick’s gaze for a long moment before looking away, glancing towards the tree line. The sheriff had a point, he couldn’t deny that. But there was something inside him, a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach that said otherwise.

Rick slowly nodded, interpreting Daryl’s silence as an answer. “When she wakes, she’s gone,” he finally resolved, stepping past the archer and back towards the diner without another word.

But Daryl couldn’t let it go. “Hey,” he called after Rick, the sheriff’s strides halting mid-pace as he glanced back, the harshness in his features fading, unveiling a man with nothing but the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Back when Carl got shot, if Hershel had turned us away, what’d ya think would’a happened?”

Rick paused before exhaling a long, heavy breath, some of the fight leaving him with it. “That’s not — it’s not the same —”

“It is,” Daryl interjected. “It’s the same damn thing.”

The air grew quiet as Rick’s shoulders sagged, one hand resting against his hip. “My family…” he suddenly murmured, shaking his head sadly. “I can’t risk it.”

Daryl nodded once. “I get it. After everythin’ with Shane an’ Randall, losin’ the farm the way we did, I get it, man,” he rasped, regarding him earnestly. “But m’ tellin’ ya…this’s the wrong call, Rick.”

The diner door suddenly flung open, interrupting the conversation and revealing a flustered-looking Glenn.

“Uh, hey guys,” he interrupted, sending the pair an awkward wave. “Just wanted to let you know that she’s, uh — she’s awake.”

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

“And kinda freaking out,” Glenn quickly tacked on at the end.

Daryl didn’t hesitate. He stormed past Rick and back into the diner, making a beeline towards the small crowd that had gathered around her.

“— okay, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt you, sweetheart,” Lori spoke softly, holding her hands out in front of her as though approaching a caged animal.

The archer pushed through the group, spotting the stranger a moment later.

She was still sitting in the booth he’d initially laid her out in — though now she was huddled away from everyone, back pressed up against the wall, knees drawn to her chest in a cowering stance. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, clearly confused and disoriented and overwhelmed.

Daryl couldn’t even begin to understand why, but he felt a wave of outrage course through him.

“C’mon, people. She ain’t a fuckin’ zoo animal,” the archer growled abruptly, taking a defensive stance in front of the booth and motioning for the rest of the group to move back. “Give the girl some damn space.”

The archer waited until everyone stepped away before turning back around and glancing down at the stranger. He was surprised to see her eyes trained on him — even more surprised at the flush of heat that spread across his chest. He held her gaze a second longer before Rick appeared, parting through the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea.

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

Rick came to a slow halt in front of her. “What’s your name?” he finally asked, his tone measured and firm.

The stranger did another sweep of the room, as though surveying just how much possible danger she was in. But when her eyes flashed up towards the archer once again, some of her unease faded. “Y/N,” she spoke hesitantly.

Rick nodded slowly before extending his arm. “Rick Grimes.”

Y/N looked at the gesture cautiously. Still, she reached out and took his hand in hers.

She appeared composed but Daryl noticed the slight tremble in her grip.

After a brief shake, Rick grabbed an empty chair and sat down at the end of the booth, resting his forearms against the table. “So, Y/N,” he began, giving the archer a look of resolve. “What happened ta’ you?”

The time after the farm fell was foggy, each day blurring into the next, suffocated by a heaviness the unknown inherently brought. But that day, the day he met her, ran stark against the rest.

Y/N had told her story like Rick asked her to do. She spoke of the small group she’d been staying with and the refuge they’d built, ultimately destroyed by the dead. Everybody had scattered — and if they hadn’t…

Any previous hesitancies the group held melted into understanding and sympathy almost immediately.

Daryl had known Y/N would be accepted into the group. Rick had hardened since the farm, but he wasn’t heartless. He wouldn’t be able to turn her away, just as the archer hadn’t been able to leave her out in those woods.

Spending the winter season on the run had been difficult for everyone — constantly running from the dead, cold and bitter nights, supplies growing scarce. The road was unforgiving, proving time and time again how completely fucked this new world was, how things would never return to the way they were, how this was now the new way of life.

Though for Daryl, if he was being honest, it wasn’t all bad — not in comparison to what his old life had given him.

He’d choose a lifetime of running over the stench of whiskey and the sting of belt buckles any day.

The only other person who’d appeared unaffected was Y/N. Besides showcasing a natural skillset in survival, she’d found her place amongst the group with ease — so effortlessly that Daryl hadn’t been able to recall what life looked like before her. She exuded a warmth that people were drawn towards — that the rest of the group clung to during the darkest of days.

But not Daryl.

He’d kept her at a distance, kept her at arm’s length because he refused to let her in as everyone else had.

Little did he know.

Daryl swiped at the beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his face.

The Georgian heat was nearly suffocating, blanketing over his body and setting his skin ablaze. He pushed away the discomfort, bending down and grabbing the ankles of one of the many walkers spread out across the prison’s courtyard. He’d lost track of how many bodies he’d dragged out, his group working tirelessly to clean out their newfound home.

The archer had just pulled the limp body through one of the fences, nearing the pickup truck used for disposal, when he heard someone approach.

“Need a hand?”

Daryl stilled — he glanced up, his eyes locking with Y/N’s, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Her hair was pulled back out of her face, a thin sheen of sweat laid out across her forehead. One hand rested on her hip, the other hovered near her face, blocking the sun rays. The sleeves of her shirt were rolled up past her elbows, streaks of dirt and blood visible against her exposed skin.

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

The intrusive thought caught the archer completely off guard. He quickly turned his attention downward, grunting a half-assed ‘nah’ before continuing his trek to the pickup truck, determined to preserve some space between them.

But instead of leaving, as he’d assumed she would, Y/N remained rooted in place.

Daryl faltered, the expression that flickered across her face hinting that maybe she hadn’t come to just ‘lend a helping hand’. She had something on her mind — he could tell by the way she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing absently as she shifted her weight back and forth.

The archer dropped his hold from around the walker’s ankles and straightened. “What?” he demanded gruffly, curiosity getting the best of him.

Y/N’s eyes found his as she took a small step forward — Daryl fought back the urge to back up. “I, uh —” she paused, her mouth twisting to the side as though fumbling for the right words. “Just — thank you.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “For what?” he huffed.

Y/N’s head cocked to the side, seemingly surprised. “I — I don’t know,” she murmured, a soft, sort of bewildered laugh slipping past her lips. “For bringing me here, for introducing me to your people — for everything, I guess,” she expressed sincerely. “You could’ve just left me out in those woods that day — most people would’ve.”

The archer chewed on the inside of his cheek, feeling incredibly exposed for some strange reason. “Was nothin’,” he finally grunted, ignoring the prickle of heat at the tips of his ears.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Y/N replied indignantly, like she was offended at the notion that he didn’t deserve her gratitude. “You saved my life.”

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than for this interaction to be over with — because once that happened, he could go back to maintaining his distance, he could go back to allowing the air between them to be just that. “Figured I owed ya,” he finally mustered, recalling the first day they’d met.

Y/N’s lips curled up into a megawatt smile and Daryl could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything so damn captivating in his entire life. “Okay,” she grinned, sticking her hand out in front of her. “We’ll call it even then.”

The archer glanced down at the gesture before warily reaching forward, taking her hand in his, and shaking once, twice, three times. Her grip was firm and she didn’t seem to mind the grime coating his skin.

When she pulled away, Daryl felt the empty spaces she’d filled set ablaze.

Y/N shot him one last smile before turning around and heading back towards the courtyard. But she’d only made it a few feet when she paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Make sure you eat something, okay?”

She didn’t wait for a response — instead, she narrowed her eyes, shooting him a look in mock-seriousness as if to say ‘I’m watching you’. Then her face broke out into another grin before she sent him a small wave — and she was gone.

Daryl watched her leave, unable to pull his gaze from her retreating form.

He tried to ignore the mess his mind was becoming, littered with confusion and insecurity, the nagging voice that lingered telling him he’d never be good enough, strong enough, brave enough for anything other than what he’d always known.

He wouldn’t let her in — he couldn’t let her in.

But as he bent down, grasping onto either ankle of the walker at his feet, he felt a tingling sensation in his fingertips he swore had everything to do with the Georgian heat and nothing to do with her.

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

He shifted from where he sat, reaching into the pocket of his jeans for the pack of cigarettes he kept there.

The package was falling apart, half-crushed, half-wrinkled from everyday wear and tear, but the archer slipped one of the few remaining cigarettes out anyway and caught it between his lips.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that keeping Y/N at arm’s length was a futile attempt — he’d been naive to think it was possible in the first place.

Before he knew it, she’d wormed her way into the forefronts of his mind and found herself a nice, cozy corner to call home. She’d done it as effortlessly as the blink of an eye or the beat of a heart. It just happened — no rhyme or reason, no explanation or logic. It just happened.

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

The archer ignored Glenn’s shout, marching further into the woods and approaching a snide-looking Merle. “C’mon, bro,” the younger brother grunted, worried if they didn’t leave right then and there, he’d change his mind and return to the prison with the others.

Merle’s booming laugh sounded, drawing Daryl from his thoughts. “Well, I’ll be damned,” the man sneered, tossing an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Looks like somebody decided ta’ grow himself a big ole’ pair a’ cojones while I was gone,” he snarked, pushing Daryl forward and falling in step beside him.

The archer pressed his lips together, swallowing his retort and focusing ahead.

“Hey, wait up!”

The voice that sounded halted Daryl in his tracks. He spun around, spotting Y/N making her way through the forest, her strides long and determined as she headed straight towards him.

“Well, would ya look a’ that,” Merle quipped under his breath, leering at her approach, his tone sending a swell of aggravation through the younger brother.

“Jus’ gimme a minute,” Daryl quickly waved him off, ignoring the prickle of heat creeping up his neck as he trudged towards her.

Y/N came to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching his for a long moment.

She seemed to have something to say, a reason for chasing after him — but it was as though she couldn’t get the words together. She glanced down, shaking her head slowly before taking a deep breath. When she looked back up, Daryl noticed a resignation in her gaze that wasn’t there before.

“Are you sure about this?” she finally asked, her troubled expression sending a pang of guilt through him.

Daryl looked away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure — he wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

He shifted his weight, focusing back on her. “Ya watch out for yourself, ya hear me?” he rumbled, pushing away the unexpected worry gnawing at him.

Y/N’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, her defeated expression damn near changing his mind altogether. “I will,” she murmured, a bittersweet smile ghosting across her features.

Daryl held her gaze a moment longer before nodding once, turning without another word.

But he’d barely taken a step when he suddenly felt her grab his wrist and twist him back around.

Before he knew what was happening, Y/N was hugging him. She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed tight, leaving Daryl completely and utterly dumbfounded. His arms hung limply at his sides, caught off guard by the surprising gesture. Though as soon as it’d begun, it ended. Y/N unwound herself from around his body and took a step back, a pink tinge to her cheeks he hadn’t noticed earlier.

She whispered a somber goodbye — though Daryl couldn’t hear it over the sound of the blood rushing to his ears — and then she was gone.

The archer fought back the urge to follow, telling himself over and over again that he was making the right decision — he was choosing blood, he was choosing family, he was choosing —

“Hey! Where’s my hug at, sweet cheeks?” Merle’s suddenly hollered, calling after Y/N.

She didn’t look back and Daryl fought back the impulse to start swinging.

But Merle just laughed, the noise loud and boisterous as he sauntered forward. “Damn, lil’ brother. Didn’t think ya had it in ya! I was startin’ ta’ think ya played for the other fuckin’ team’,” he jeered, clapping the archer on the back with more force than necessary.

Daryl’s entire body tensed up, his darkened gaze snapping towards his brother. He noticed then that Merle was also watching Y/N — though his eye line was fixated on one specific part of her body…

“Let’s go,” the archer spat under his breath as he spun around and stormed off, his hands balling into fists.

He had to walk away. Otherwise, he’d lose it — he’d give in to instinct, he’d allow the rage coursing through him to take over, and all of this would’ve been for nothing.

So he took a deep breath, relaxed his clenched fists, and dismissed any lingering thoughts of her.

Daryl scoffed at the memory, an unlit cigarette still caught between his teeth.

He pulled out his lighter and flicked his thumb against the wheel, sparking a small flame before inhaling a deep breath. The familiar taste of nicotine and ash filled his senses as he drew smoke into his lungs, immediately feeling a rush of calm flow through him.

Daryl existed in the quiet, taking another long drag of his cigarette. He pulled his legs towards his chest, resting his elbows atop his knees, letting his hands dangle in front of him. He watched the lit cigarette butt dim and dance between his fingertips, the embers burning off and drifting into the grass.

It’d only taken a single day for the archer to come to his senses — to realize the mistake he’d made in leaving with his brother. And if he was being honest, it’d had nothing to do with Merle. He couldn’t blame his brother because his brother hadn’t changed — his brother was still the same brash, volatile, ill-tempered redneck he’d known his whole life.

No, it was him — he was the one who had changed.

“Would ya slow yer damn roll? I ain’t the athlete I used ta’ be, ya know!” Merle bellowed from somewhere behind Daryl, clearly struggling to keep up with the younger brother’s pace.

But the archer didn’t slow, his strides matching the beat of his pounding heart. He ducked under tree branches and side-stepped exposed roots, the prison growing nearer with each step he took.

It wasn’t until Daryl heard a sudden thud, followed by a viciously snarled curse, that he slowed. He spun around, spotting Merle pushing up off the forest floor.

“Ya good?” Daryl called out, crossing back and reaching down, offering his hand.

But Merle just swatted him away, his expression twisting in contempt as he staggered back to his feet. “Lemme ask ya somethin’,” he growled. “How the hell ya think this’s gonna go, huh? Ya think those assholes are jus’ gonna forget ‘bout everythin’ that happened? Ya think we’re jus’ gonna hug it out an’ sing ‘round the campfire like some kinda damn afternoon special?”

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes. “Ya —”

“This ‘bout that skirt from yesterday? Huh? That it?” Merle steamrolled over his attempt to interrupt, taking a step forward, the brothers now toe to toe.

Daryl felt a prickle of heat flush the back of his neck, his chest tightening. Merle was just trying to get a rise out of him — he knew that deep down — but damn, was it working. “It ain’t ‘bout her,” the archer growled defensively, fixing him with a glare. “It’s ‘bout survival, ’bout rebuildin’ — ‘bout tryin’ ta’ make somethin’ outta this shit world. It can’t jus’ be us out here, man — not anymore.”

Merle rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, did Officer Friendly force-feed ya that bullshit?”

Daryl stiffened before huffing a breath and waving his brother off. He turned away, determined to continue his trek back home before it was too late — but he’d only made it a couple of feet when Merle called after him once more.

“It ain’t ever gonna work,” the older brother voiced, his usually brash tone dimming into something surprisingly vulnerable. “It — it jus’ ain’t. Not after everythin’ — not after what I did.”

The archer glanced back, watching Merle’s notorious bravado finally melt away, replaced with something he could’ve sworn looked like guilt. “We ain’t dead yet, man,” Daryl rumbled simply. “Still time ta’ make shit right.”

Merle considered his words for a long moment — but before he could respond, the sound of barraging gunfire exploded through the air.

Daryl’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, feeling his stomach drop when he realized where exactly it was coming from.

He took off into a sprint, Merle’s pounding footsteps echoing directly behind him.

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

In his defense, it hadn’t been deliberate. When Merle had questioned his intentions, alluding to the idea that Y/N was the main reason for his urgency to return home, the archer had denied it.

He hadn’t known it back then, but the truth became startlingly clear once he’d made it back to the prison, marched up the pathway leading to cellblock C, and laid eyes on her.

Daryl found Y/N crouched down beside Axel’s unmoving form, one hand resting on his shoulder.

His steps faltered, feeling as though he was intruding on a private moment — but he couldn’t help himself. The Governor had attacked the prison, his people were shaken, and damn it, he just needed to make sure she was okay.

She stood a moment later, turning to rejoin the rest of the group huddled by the fence, her despondent expression filling his bones with a red-hot rage.

But then her eyes met his.

Y/N’s footsteps stilled, her gaze widening in disbelief as she looked at him. A heartbeat passed between them before Daryl noticed how she was holding herself — hunched over slightly, one hand wrapped around the opposite arm, blood seeping out from between her fingertips.

He crossed to her in three long strides, ignoring the heat that flushed his chest the closer he neared.

Instead, he focused on the wound — that he could deal with, that made sense.

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

“Daryl,” she breathed in disbelief, her voice thick as though the word had gotten tangled somewhere in her throat.

His name sounded like honey the way it rolled off her tongue.

He shrugged off his crossbow and tossed it aside, wordlessly reaching forward and pulling her hand away from the injury. He examined the laceration carefully — which upon closer inspection appeared to be a gunshot wound — though luckily enough, the bullet seemed to have only grazed the side of her arm.

The archer reached into his back pocket, grabbed the red rag he kept there, and gently pressed it against the wound. “Jus’ keep pressure on it, alright?” he rasped, guiding Y/N’s limp hand to rest over the cloth, stalling the blood flow.

He glanced down at her, doing a slight double-take when he realized she was watching him, a slightly strained smile pulling at her lips. “You came back,” she whispered, her eyes warm despite the blood splattered across her cheek, the pallor in her complexion.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, incredibly aware of how little space remained between them. He managed a stiff nod in response, his voice suddenly lost.

But Y/N’s smile merely grew, like the first hint of sunshine after a devastating storm.

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

The archer inhaled another long drag from his cigarette, the smoke spilling past his lips and disappearing into the growing night.

Returning to the prison had given Daryl a sense of purpose, a sense of hope — he was back where he belonged and the threat of the Governor just didn’t seem so insurmountable anymore.

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

Daryl stormed across the field that led to the prison’s courtyard, shoulders set, fists balled, eyes rimmed red.

The Governor would pay — he’d pay for what he’d done.

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

The archer’s footsteps faltered, only briefly, when he spotted Y/N pacing back and forth behind the gate. Her head snapped towards him as he approached, her worried expression melting into relief as she quickly pulled the gate open for him.

“You okay?” she called to him, brow furrowing as she craned her neck, now looking behind him. “Where’s Merle?”

Daryl kept his gaze forward, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand as he marched past her without a second glance. “Dead,” he grunted, ignoring the prickling sensation growing behind his eyes.

“What?” he heard her exclaim, though he didn’t turn around — he kept his momentum pushing ahead, hellbent on going after the Governor and taking him down once and for all.

No matter what the cost.

He stalked towards where he’d parked his motorcycle, slinging his crossbow over his back and mounting the bike in one swift motion.

But Y/N was just as quick.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she jogged towards him, planting herself in front of the bike, an alarmed look in her eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Daryl felt a swell of anger wash over him, an unusual feeling when directed towards her. “Move,” he growled, using his heel to knock the bike’s kickstand up.

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his intent becomingly startling clear. “No.”

He was caught off guard by her protest, though snapped out of it just as soon — his scowl deepened, his eyes darkening, seeing nothing but redness and fury and Merle’s reanimated corpse flickering through his mind. “Move, damn it,” he snarled once more.

But Y/N stood her ground regardless of the wariness in her gaze. “No.”

The archer’s rage churned inside him, his grip white-knuckled around the throttle. “Ya —”

“Please, don’t do this,” she interrupted his brusque retort, shaking her head. “I promise — I promise — he’ll get what’s coming to him, but Daryl…this is not the way.”

He knew deep down she was right, but he didn’t want to hear it — he didn’t want to hear ration or reason or the pity in her voice.

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered, emotion clouding her eyes. “God, I’m so sorry about Merle. I’m —”

Something inside the archer snapped. “Ya know what, ya can drop the damn act,” he hissed, springing off the bike and shoving it to the ground with a deafening crash. He ignored the way Y/N flinched as he barreled towards her like a surging storm. “Ya can stop pretendin’ like anyone in this fuckin’ place gave a single shit ‘bout my brother!” he fired back, his voice rising. “Or me, for that matter!”

Y/N recoiled away from him, eyes wide. “I’m —” she started, shrinking under his heated approach. “I didn’t —”

“Forget it,” the archer spat, unable to stop the fervor spewing out of him. “Ya don’t know shit.”

A beat of silence passed as they stared one another down — but the more the quiet stretched on, the more a different emotion began to seep through the archer.

Guilt.

Unable to watch the hurt settling across Y/N’s features, Daryl turned away, allowing his brewing vehemence to carry him across the courtyard and to the doors leading into cellblock C. He paused at the doorway, unable to stop himself from looking back.

He watched Y/N’s head lower, her shoulders drop, before she slowly reached down, grabbing his toppled motorcycle by the handlebars and propping it upright.

The archer swallowed his remorse, buried his instincts, and stalked inside.

Daryl hissed a breath as the burnt end of the cigarette singed his fingertip. He stubbed the flame out against the heel of his boot, flicking the butt away into the grass.

Still, to this day, he felt bad about losing his temper. The anger had clearly been misdirected, but in the moment, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on it — Y/N had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Despite the aftermath of his outburst weighing heavily on him, he’d kept his distance from her throughout the days that followed.

Old habits die hard.

Daryl woke with a start, his eyes snapping open, chasing away lingering images of the nightmare he’d found himself immersed in.

Sleep had never been kind to him, even before everything went to shit — tonight was no different.

He could still see flashes of redness and death, smell the scent of rotting corpses and bloodshed, hear the sounds of tormented screams and anguished whimpers —

Daryl’s thoughts faltered as he quickly pushed up onto his elbows, straining his ears.

He realized then that the whimpering wasn’t coming from just his imagination. No, it was real — and it was coming from somewhere inside the cellblock.

The archer sprang up, untangling himself from the bed sheet coiled at his feet before shuffling towards the doorway. He paused there, his senses on high alert, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he listened carefully.

When another soft cry sounded, he moved from the entryway, slowly slinking past cell after cell and following the noise.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing outside Y/N’s cell.

Daryl peered into the shadowed room, just barely able to make out the shape of her beneath the covers. She murmured something jumbled and incoherent, her words muffled as though her face was pressed into the pillow. She tossed and turned for a moment before finally settling.

When she remained still, the archer nearly left for his own cell.

But then he heard a quietly gasped sob and began moving forward before he could think twice.

Daryl crouched down beside Y/N’s bedside, turning on the lantern she’d left sitting on the floor. He shielded his eyes from the light until they adjusted before focusing on her.

She was curled up, covers drawn to her chin, faint tear tracks marking the sides of her face. Her brow was knitted, causing lines to form across her forehead — he fought back the urge to reach out and smooth them away.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one sleep was unkind to.

Another soft whimper blew past her lips and Daryl reached for her, gently shaking her shoulder.

Y/N immediately jolted awake, shooting upright, disoriented and alarmed as her bleary eyes darted around the cell.

“Hey, hey,” Daryl quickly rasped, holding his hands out in front of him. “It’s alright.”

“What — what happened?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep, her wide gaze finally settling on him.

The archer shook his head, pulling back slightly, second-guessing his decision to wake her. “Nothin’ — nothin’, alright? We’re okay.”

“What —” she sounded, a bewildered look flitting across her face as she settled her hand against her undoubtedly racing heart. “Are you okay?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed at her question, confused as to why that would be her next question and not ‘what the fuck are you doing in my cell?’ Regardless, he nodded once. “Yeah,” the archer brushed off her concern, sitting back on his haunches. “Ya — uh, ya were cryin’,” he revealed hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck as he watched for her reaction.

Y/N straightened, the top bunk just grazing the crown of her head as she dabbed her fingertip at the corner of her eye, appearing almost embarrassed suddenly. “Oh,” she whispered, wiping away the tears that’d formed.

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Ya alright?” he rasped after a long moment.

She quickly nodded her head, waving off his worry. “Oh, no — yeah, no, I’m fine,” she replied flippantly, shooting the archer a tight-lipped smile.

Despite Daryl seeing right through her bullshit, he didn’t push.

Instead, he nodded once and clambered back to his feet.

But he’d just barely turned to leave when Y/N spoke up once more. “Hey, Daryl?”

The archer faltered, glancing back at her. “Yeah?”

Her demeanor appeared collected, though he could see her hands twisting nervously around the sheet splayed out across his lap. “I —” she paused, seemingly working up the nerve to say what was next. “Are we okay?”

Daryl felt his chest tighten, the heaviness that’d grown between them splintering in that moment. There was something about her words, the smallness in her voice, that had him kicking himself for being so damn stubborn, for not making things right sooner.

She raked a hand through her tousled hair. “I just — I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I mean, I wasn’t trying to —”

“Stop,” Daryl cut off her rambling, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I was actin’ like an asshole,” he grumbled admittedly, the shame he’d buried creeping back in.

The tension in Y/N’s features softened as she regarded him. “It’s okay.”

For some reason, her easy forgiveness made Daryl’s insides churn.

“Nah, it ain’t,” he shot back sharply, almost wishing she’d curse him out instead. “Wasn’t right ta’ take that shit out on ya.”

“You were grieving,” she justified, her explanation simple and understanding.

Daryl worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching as he stared at the far wall of her cell, his gaze darkening — he didn’t deserve her compassion. “Well, ya probably stopped me from doin’ somethin’ real stupid,” he muttered dryly.

She merely shrugged, still completely unfazed. “Grief makes us do stupid things,” she murmured, defending him yet again. “I am sorry about your brother, you know,” she whispered a moment later, the sincerity in her voice knocking down the wall Daryl had worked so hard to keep between them.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Merle was no hero,” he finally rumbled. “But he died tryin’ ta’ make shit right,” he mustered, his eyes finding hers amidst the shadows of her cell.

Y/N shot him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Then he didn’t die for nothing.”

Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, feeling as though his heart was moments away from bursting out of his chest. It was as though the cell was shrinking around him, the walls closing in — and the only thing keeping him above the surface was her.

“Get some sleep,” he managed gruffly, turning to leave once more.

“Daryl?”

The archer stilled. “Hm?” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

“Can you stay?” she whispered, so softly he almost missed it entirely. “Just a little longer?”

Daryl shifted his weight back and forth, feeling the overwhelming urge to run, to retreat to his own cell and pretend he hadn’t heard her.

But the slight tremble in her voice, something others surely would’ve missed, pulled him right back in.

The air thickened as he walked towards her, every fiber of his being screaming at him to make a run for it while he still had the chance. Y/N watched him approach, slightly wide-eyed, his steps faltering the closer he neared. She maneuvered slightly on the bed, moving towards the wall as though making room for him beside her.

Instead, Daryl did the most rational thing he could think of — he grabbed the empty mattress on the top bunk, slid it off the frame, and dropped it onto the floor next to her.

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you don’t have to —”

“G’night,” Daryl interjected abruptly, avoiding her gaze as he quickly turned off the lantern and laid down. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, his face surely on fire.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Daryl peeked an eye open, certain she could hear his thrumming pulse from where she sat. But a moment later, the bed creaked as she settled back down against the rickety mattress.

He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The archer wasn’t sure how much time passed before Y/N’s breathing evened out, the stranger from the woods all those days ago finally falling into a deep and restful sleep.

He, on the other hand, remained awake until morning came.

She’d asked him to stay and that was exactly what he was going to do.

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

After the people from Woodbury moved into the prison, the demand for supplies nearly tripled. The archer found himself going on runs more often than not, hunting for game or scavenging local businesses — but the days and nights he was home were spent with her.

They fell into a routine of sorts. The days were spent working the fence or tending to things around the prison — but most nights, they’d sneak away from the others and spend hours sitting atop one of the unused watchtowers.

It became ‘their spot’, as Y/N had put it.

Some nights they sat quietly, existing in comfortable silence, watching the vast night sky. Other nights, Daryl would learn things about her — those were his favorite nights.

Y/N would talk about anything and everything — the mundane stuff, the deep stuff, the things in between — while Daryl would rest his head against the watchtower and close his eyes, listening to the way her voice rose and fell. She’d tell stories of her life before the end and her hopes for the future as though there still was one.

And over time, despite the world decaying at its very core, even Daryl started to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be one.

She became his solace.

Hell, maybe she always had been, but he’d been too damn stupid to realize it.

“I’m sick of hearing myself talk,” Y/N suddenly spoke, a soft laugh following.

Daryl’s eyes snapped open as he glanced over at her, his brow furrowing.

She shifted from where she sat, the side of her face illuminated by moonlight. “Tell me something about you,” she said sweetly, her knee brushing against his as she rested one shoulder against the watchtower, giving him her full attention.

The archer felt his face warm under her curiosity. “Ya know plenty,” he grunted — and it was the truth. He’d told her more about himself than anyone else in his entire life.

“Oh, come on,” she countered and though Daryl couldn’t see it, he sensed an eye roll. “Just one thing? Something I don’t already know and then I’ll leave you alone.”

He huffed a breath. “Fine,” he grumbled, giving in.

Y/N waited patiently as the archer fell into thought, racking his brain for something to share — something even worth sharing. The silence that dredged on wasn’t helping either — if anything, it only added to the pressure. His life wasn’t all that interesting, never had been, never would be.

Daryl snuck a glance at Y/N — well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

“Uh,” he rumbled, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know. Guess I always wanted a dog?” he mustered, the confession coming off more so a question than an actual statement.

Still, Y/N’s face broke out into one of her million-dollar smiles. “I can totally see you with a dog,” she beamed. “You never had one?”

Daryl almost shook his head, but then a faint memory came to mind. He looked away, propping his elbows against his knees and focusing straight ahead.

“When, uh —” he cleared his throat uncomfortably, picking absently at the skin beside his thumbnail. “When I was a kid, I was walkin’ home from school. Found this stray covered in mud, damn near skin an’ bones. An’ so I took it home,” he pressed his lips together before snorting a breath. “Even tied my shoelace ‘round its neck like a leash.”

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

“Mhm,” the archer mumbled, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

After a stretch of silence lingered, she spoke up once more. “But you didn’t keep it?”

Daryl began picking at his skin a little more aggressively. “My old man — he was on a bender. Started screamin’ an’ hollerin’ when he saw me ‘cause he ‘didn’t wanna take care a’ no mangy mutt’,” he bit out, echoing his father’s words from all those years ago. “He threw somethin’ — don’t remember what. Maybe an empty whiskey bottle. Poor dog was scared outta its mind,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It pissed on the floor, right in front a’ him.”

Y/N’s expression turned troubled, her lips forming into a small frown.

Daryl ignored the tightness growing in his throat. “So he tossed the dog in his truck, drove off, an’ that was that — I never saw it again,” he finished, wincing as he ripped a small piece of skin off his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

“What’d your dad do?” Y/N asked, her voice small.

The archer wiped the blood off onto his jeans. “Don’t know,” he shrugged, glancing over at her. “He never said an’ I never asked.”

She held his gaze for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh.

Daryl turned his head, staring out over the railing and into the darkened forest. He’d never told anyone that story — not even Merle, who’d been doing another stint in juvie at the time. The truth was, he carried a lot of guilt from that day. Sure, he was only a kid, but he was the one who’d brought the stray home in the first place.

Whatever happened to that dog…well, that was on him.

“Hey,” Y/N murmured, gently poking the side of his arm, drawing him back to her. “Maybe we’ll find you a dog of your own someday.”

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

“You never know,” she shrugged. “What would you name it?”

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

“Come on,” she reached over and poked him once more. “Humor me.”

“How ‘bout this,” the archer relented. “If — an’ that’s a big-ass if — we ever find a dog someday, ya get ta' name it.”

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he nodded his head, feeling the corners of his lips twitch.

She exhaled a breath, her gaze widening. “This…this is a shit-ton of pressure, Dixon,” she whispered, the wheels in her mind, very obviously, turning.

Despite everything, a soft laugh rumbled from deep inside Daryl’s chest, the sound strange and unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed — the noise got stuck in his throat, like his body was physically rejecting the sensation.

When he noticed Y/N watching him, a cheeky grin plastered across her face, his skin flushed.

“Okay, okay, let me think…” she grew serious, closing her eyes and resting her chin against her clasped hands. Not even a second later, her eyes shot open. “Got it!”

Daryl motioned for her to continue. “Lemme hear it.”

“Alright,” she shifted, facing him head-on. “Dog.”

The archer’s brow knitted together, his gaze narrowing. “Dog?”

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

“Ya — ya wanna name the dog ‘Dog’?” he questioned dubiously.

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

Daryl rolled his eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Ya got a couple a’ screws loose, ya know that?” he teased, tapping the side of his head.

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed softly, nudging him with her elbow.

A beat of quiet passed between them before Daryl cleared his throat. “We ought'a head back,” he grumbled, starting to stand.

But then Y/N reached out, grabbing onto his hand. “Hang on,” she objected, looking up at him. “Just a few more minutes?” she asked, gently tugging his arm down.

The skin on his hand tingled beneath her touch as her gaze, warm like honey, melted further into his.

Before he could think twice, he found himself settling back down beside her, his hand still intertwined around hers.

Besides, when had he ever been able to say ‘no’ to her?

Daryl could’ve sworn those nights up in the watchtower were the best nights of his life.

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

Daryl’s eyes snapped open, just then noticing the quiet that’d settled over the funeral home. He glanced over at Beth, who remained seated in front of the piano, her kind gaze watching him curiously.

Settling further inside the casket he laid in, the archer turned to stare up at the ceiling, folding one arm behind his head, the other laid out across his stomach. He ignored Beth’s question — not because it wasn’t true, but because he knew if he spoke, if he started talking about her, the hollowness inside his chest would swallow him whole.

“I think she’s still out there,” Beth assured him quietly, steadfast in hanging onto whatever hope she could muster. “I think they all are.”

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

He wanted to believe that — he wanted nothing more than to believe that Y/N and the others were out there somewhere, somewhere safe. But he wasn’t a foolish man — and he just couldn’t bring himself to feign the kind of certainty that came so effortlessly to Beth.

“‘And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith’,” she suddenly murmured, her eyes glowing against the candlelight, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Daddy used ta’ quote scripture — that was one of his favorites,” she explained, her voice growing thick at the mention of her father. She pulled herself together before continuing. “I have faith,” her words were resolute, as though not only trying to convince him but herself as well.

The archer huffed a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Got enough for the both a’ us?” he muttered dryly, quirking a brow.

Beth laughed, breaking the heaviness that’d spread. “Sure do,” she beamed before shooting him a meaningful look. “You can thank me later.”

With that, she swiveled around on the bench and faced the piano once more, her fingers dancing along the keys, filling the room with a gentle melody.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man — never had been, never would be.

He didn’t buy into all that bullshit. If there was a God out there…what the fuck was he doing? Where was he? Why didn’t he stop the world from ending? Why did he let the bad destroy the good, time and time again?

He just couldn’t put his faith into something so cruel, so merciless.

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

But for the first time in his entire life, he closed his eyes and prayed.

The archer felt his throat constrict.

He tilted his head back, looking up at the darkened sky. The sun had melted into the Earth, in its place thousands upon thousands of littered stars, surrounding a glowing crescent-shaped moon.

Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe there was a God out there — some higher power or greater being — who’d been listening that night in the funeral home.

Because somehow, someway, despite all the odds stacked against him…he’d found her.

Daryl felt his lip split beneath another vicious punch, his head snapping to the side.

He was losing strength, his bruised body slowly giving out on him as two of the Claimers continued to relentlessly beat him. It seemed like no matter how hard he fought back, he just couldn’t get the upper hand.

He was outnumbered and unarmed, but as long as their attention remained on him, he wouldn’t back down — because once they were done with him, they’d move on to the others.

They’d move on to her.

Daryl caught Y/N’s horrified gaze from the other side of the road — she was knelt in front of Tony, who had a fistful of her hair in his grip, simultaneously holding Michonne at gunpoint. Y/N was struggling against his hold, attempting to break free, her features twisted in pain.

A low growl rumbled from deep inside the archer, a red-hot rage coursing through his veins as he fought even harder against the two men.

He managed to dodge another punch, but in the process, connected with a swift jab to the ribcage. He exhaled sharply, losing his breath as the two closed in on him once more — though as the archer braced himself for the next strike, he noticed that the men had suddenly frozen in place.

Daryl followed their stares, finally understanding what had caused the abrupt standstill.

Rick was staggering away from the leader of the Claimers, red staining the bottom half of his face — the archer didn’t even realize it was blood until he saw Joe. The man swayed unsteadily on his feet, eyes wide, mouth agape, as his hands reached for where his throat should’ve been.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Michonne grabbed Tony’s gun and turned it on himself, shooting him once. Daryl followed suit, landing a solid hook against the side of Billy’s face. He heard another gunshot ring out but was too focused on the man at his feet to notice. Without any hesitation, the archer stomped the heel of his boot into the man’s skull, killing him instantly.

He backed away from Billy’s crushed form, stumbling over Harvey’s body, a bullet hole now between his lifeless eyes. He spun around, steadying himself against the hood of the car in front of him as he worked to control his heaving breaths. He’d turned just in time to see Rick mercilessly stabbing Dan, over and over again until the man’s center was nothing but a mess of blood and guts.

And then he saw her.

She was still on her knees, though now hunched over beside Tony, staring silently at his unmoving figure.

Daryl pushed away from the truck and rounded the hood, his heart leaping into his throat as he made a beeline towards her. His footsteps faltered the closer he neared, the sight before him suddenly registering — Tony had been shot through the neck by Michonne, but the front of his skull had also been caved in.

His gaze flickered towards Y/N, just then noticing the blood-soaked boulder clasped tightly in her hand.

It took every ounce of strength to not rush forward, to not pull her into his arms and hold her close because damn it, she was alive, she was okay, she was here.

The archer stepped over Tony’s body, slowly crouching down in front of Y/N — when his approach didn’t stir her, a jolt of unease shot through him. Her vacant eyes were trained on the dead man, her features expressionless and ashen. There was a cut just above her eyebrow, a small trail of blood trickling down the side of her face, but other than that, she appeared relatively unharmed.

Daryl gently took her hand in his and carefully unclasped her fingers from around the rock. He tossed the boulder aside before settling down, kneeling opposite her, his deep blue eyes maintaining a watchful look.

The archer brushed his thumb over the back of her limp hand, squeezing softly a moment later.

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

Daryl held his breath as her eyes found his, welling with unshed tears, the helplessness in her haunted gaze twisting his insides. “I never killed someone before,” she whispered suddenly, choking on her words as though speaking shards of glass.

He wasn’t used to seeing her this way — she’d always been so steady, a light others were drawn towards, that he’d been drawn towards. And now…well, now he wished the Claimers would come alive so he could rip them apart all over again.

Unable to stand the sight of her broken expression any longer, Daryl reached for her. “C’mere,” he rasped, slipping his hand behind the back of her head and pulling her forward.

Y/N’s features crumpled as she fell against his chest, a hitched sob catching in her throat. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, gripping onto the front of his vest as though he was the only thing keeping her afloat.

He wrapped his other arm securely around her back, keeping her cradled against his body. “S’ alright,” the archer rumbled as she held on tighter to him, her frame trembling as she cried. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya.”

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, woven around one another, his pounding heart echoing hers.

But he didn’t mind — because he’d found her.

And nothing else seemed to matter much with her engulfed in his arms.

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

With unrelenting heat, dwindling supplies, and the hollowness of loss inside each of them, morale had been at an all-time low. The little amount of food they’d managed to scrounge up had been divvied into morsels — though not enough to soothe their aches of hunger. The water supply eventually depleted, leaving their throats raw and mouths like cotton as they walked — day after day, down winding road after winding road, searching for salvation that was nowhere to find.

The line that’d separated them from the dead had become alarmingly thin.

And it’d only been a matter of time before that line disappeared altogether.

Daryl roused from his sleep, somehow feeling even more exhausted than when he first closed his eyes.

He scrubbed at his face, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that’d formed before huffing a breath. The sign of first morning light seeped through the canopy of trees above him, visible through the motionless overgrowth of leaves and greenery. The heat was already suffocating — his clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin, his throat desperate for water he couldn’t afford to drink.

But focusing on that, focusing on the discomfort, was much easier than acknowledging the looming darkness that lingered.

The archer pushed up onto his elbows, the forest floor digging into his skin. He scanned the makeshift camp his group had set up, positioned just off the main road. Almost everyone was still asleep, curled up on the harsh wooded ground within the permitter they’d barricaded.

Except for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

Daryl felt his stomach lurch as he pulled himself off the ground and staggered to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness he felt — it’d been days since he’d eaten, since any of them had eaten. He grabbed his crossbow and slung it over his shoulder, tiptoeing around the others as to not wake them — they deserved a few more minutes in a reality that wasn’t as fucked as this one.

The only other person awake was Glenn, who’d volunteered to be on watch. He sat with his back against a large tree trunk, Maggie at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.

Daryl headed towards them, drawing Glenn’s attention. But before he could say anything, Glenn nodded his head towards something on the main road, careful not to jostle Maggie awake.

The archer followed his gaze, spotting Y/N through the trees. He nodded once in silent ‘thanks’, feeling the pit in his stomach loosen as he marched out of the woods and crossed over the asphalt.

Y/N was sitting on the hood of a long-since abandoned car, her feet perched atop the dented front bumper. Her eyes flashed towards him as he approached, prominent dark circles beneath a weary gaze, so unlike the warmth he was used to seeing.

Daryl felt his throat constrict — he could handle his own demons, the heaviness that’d latched onto his bones after the last few weeks.

But hers?

She needed to be okay — he needed her to be okay.

He slid onto the hood, the car dipping below his weight as he settled beside her. A comfortable silence stretched on as they stared down the long and desolate road ahead, each lost in their own thoughts.

“I miss ‘our spot’,” Y/N suddenly murmured, her tone wistful.

Daryl grunted softly in response, the nights they’d spent up in the watchtower flashing through his mind.

He missed it too — he hadn’t known peace like that before.

“God, we had it so good back then,” she exhaled a breath, lowering her head.

The archer peeked over at her, hearing the hint of emotion growing in her words, the sadness she tried to conceal. But she couldn’t hide it — not from him.

He could tell how she was feeling by the steadiness of her breath.

“We still had Hershel…” she whispered, clasping her hands together, her knuckles turning white. “Bob…Tyreese…” her voice cracked slightly before she glanced up. “Beth.”

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

He couldn’t think about her — not without smelling moonshine and ash, not without feeling the weight of her lifeless body in his arms.

He never got to thank her.

When the prison fell, Daryl had been certain he’d never see Y/N again — that somehow, someway, she’d burned along with it. But Beth…she’d known — she’d known he’d find her again one day.

And he never got to thank her.

“I know you’re in pain,” Y/N’s voice broke through his guilt-ridden thoughts, drawing him back to her. “And I know how easy it is to just shove it down and push it away and pretend like it doesn’t exist,” she looked over at him then, her gaze steady and knowing — and despite the scrutiny, he couldn’t find it in himself to look away. “And I’m not asking you to talk about it. But please, just — just don’t pretend like it’s not there.”

Daryl gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin and filling his senses with the metallic taste of blood.

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

She slowly brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, smoothing the strands back out of his face. “You’re not carved out of stone, Daryl,” she murmured gently before resting her palm against his flushed cheek.

The air suddenly thickened, the archer becoming painfully aware of how little space remained between them. There was a pull — almost magnetic — that urged him to lean closer, to draw nearer, to take her in his arms and shut out the rest of the world.

But before he could give into instinct, he pulled away and hopped off the hood of the car, landing on his feet with a huff.

Daryl looked anywhere but at her, ignoring the slight tremble in his fingertips. “M’ gonna —” he quickly cleared the thickness in his throat. “M’ gonna take a look ‘round — see what I can see.”

Y/N was quiet, though the archer didn’t dare look at her. “Okay,” she finally sounded — and even though Daryl couldn’t see her expression, he could hear the tangible defeat in her tone.

He clenched his jaw, kicking himself for being the source of her disappointment as he beelined towards the woods on the other side of the road, opposite the campsite.

But he’d only taken a couple of steps when he faltered, realizing then that he couldn’t just walk away — he’d never been able to just walk away.

Not from her.

“I hear ya,” he rasped, glancing back at her, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Ya know, what ya were sayin’ before an’ — an’ all that. I jus’ — I hear ya,” he mustered, the jumbled explanation all he could offer.

A tired smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “I know,” she assured him softly.

Daryl held her gaze before nodding once, turning without another word, and disappearing into the trees.

A newfound determination coursed through the archer as he ventured further into the woods — there had to be something else out there, somewhere his people could call ‘home’. They couldn’t keep going on like this, fighting day-to-day just to survive — it couldn’t be them and the dead anymore.

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

His eyes trailed over the towering gates that surrounded Alexandria — sturdy iron sheets and impenetrable steel, the only thing keeping away the dead that roamed just outside them. He brushed his fingers over the ground, tugging at the overgrown blades of grass beneath where he sat as he fell back in thought.

Despite his initial doubt that Alexandria was all it promised to be, in time, the community had proven him wrong. Sure, there were fractures in its foundation, but it was better than nothing.

It was better than before.

And for the first time since the end of everything, there was hope for a future.

Smoke spilled past the archer’s lips, wafting in front of him before disappearing into the night air.

The streets of Alexandria were still — a welcomed change in comparison to life outside the walls. Daryl shifted on the porch steps, taking another drag from his cigarette as he rested his back against the railing. He tilted his head backward, blowing out a lungful of smoke, feeling his nerves calm in the process.

“Hey, stranger,” a voice suddenly called, breaking the quiet that’d stretched on.

Daryl knew that voice — knew it better than the back of his own damn hand.

He quickly shook away the hair that’d fallen in front of his eyes, watching as Y/N approached.

She looked different — her hair was washed, her clothes no longer blood-stained and tattered. The lines of worry that’d marred her features were smoothed away, replaced by a warm smile that only grew the closer she neared. It was strange — almost like getting a glimpse of her before the dead started walking.

Her footsteps slowed as she stopped in front of him, her head cocking slightly to the side. “What’s that look for?”

Daryl ducked his head down, his face feeling fuzzy — like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Nothin’,” he shook his head, inhaling another drag from his cigarette before stubbing the flame out against the porch steps.

Y/N plopped down beside him, propping her back up against the railing opposite his. “So,” she started, turning her attention towards him. “Deanna was asking where you were tonight.”

The archer scoffed as he flicked the cigarette butt away. “Aaron’s,” he rasped, pulling one knee to his chest, resting his elbow on top of it.

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

[banqdanfnfic]

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

© banqdanfnfic 2021, all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Get Over Yourself - Lindsey Horan x Reader

Prompt: The Great Horan x reader? Where she and R aren’t a thing, but there are some feelings there. R always flirts with her and asks her out a lot, but Lindsey always rejects her. Eventually, R stops doing it bc she doesn’t want to continue being hurt and disappointed by the rejection. So, when R gets shipped with another teammate (you decide) by the fans, R has to flirt with them as PR stunt. Lindsey gets jealous and realizes that she wants to be the only one R flirts with. Cue an angsty fight between the two until she finally tells R how she feels and they make up.

“Hey Linds, do you believe in love at first sight?” Y/N smirked, slowly walking past Lindsey, pausing, waiting for the midfielder to acknowledge her. Once Lindsey looked up, cocking her head to the side, she continued, “or do you need me to walk by again?” Y/N winked, giving a slow, dramatic strut past.

Several players rolled their eyes, some boo’ing, while others squirted Y/N with water. Lindsey just rolled her eyes, fighting a smirk, “come on, let’s pass,” she reached a handout for Y/N to help tug her up.

Y/N grasped the offered hand, tugging Lindsey to a standing position. Lindsey, not expecting Y/N to actually pull her up, pushed herself up at the same time, crashing her body into Y/N’s.

“If you wanted to feel me up, you just had to ask,” Y/N smirked, hands on either of Lindsey’s hips to help steady her.

“You gotta buy me dinner first for that,” Lindsey gave Y/N a gentle shove to the chest before jogging away, tapping a ball with her.

“Yea?” Y/N hesitated, biting her lip, watching the blonde to see if she was serious or not. The friends had such a flirtatious relationship, the lines between friends and more had been blurred, were blurred. Hands would wander, hugs lingered, eyes always finding each other in crowded rooms. Y/N was the first person Lindsey would seek out when she needed to talk about something, needed comfort, or just needed to hear Y/N’s voice.

Anyone watching the two women could easily interpret the interactions would assume the friends were a couple. But they weren’t. The concept of a romantic relationship had never been discussed. Y/N had been working to feel out if it was more than harmless flirting for Lindsey, like it was for herself. But their friendship had been like this for so long, Y/N didn’t know how Lindsey felt.

Y/N knew how she felt, how she couldn’t help be drawn to Lindsey, and would be more than willing maintain the friendship as long as it meant she still got to be with the midfielder. Worried if Lindsey knew the true intention behind Y/N’s flirting it would push her away.

Y/N was brought out of her musings when Lindsey flipped a ball into her stomach.

“We playing or not you weirdo?” Lindsey smirked.

“Oh yea,” Y/N kicked the ball back, still only half paying attention. Her thoughts still on her feelings for the blonde, distracted by Lindsey implying she might want to go for dinner with Y/N, “so you, me, dinner. Then you can feel me up as much as you want,” the soccer player smirked, but her eyes critically watching the midfielder.

Lindsey scoffed, rolling her eyes, “What, like a date?” thinking it was a joke, laughed, juggling the ball a few times before passing it back, “like I would ever date you,” she continued to laugh alone.

Y/N felt her entire body heat up. Lindsey thought it was a joke. A joke they would ever date. That she was a joke, the concept of them as a joke, “hey, I was just trying to give you free access to touch all this,” she awkwardly motioned the length of her body, “your loss, “she tried to play it off, hoping her voice sounded more nonchalant than it really felt.

Thankfully, Y/N was saved from having to hear what Lindsey would say or do by practicing beginning.

For the next two hours, it was Y/N could do to avoid Lindsey. Switching lines for drills, have to re-tie her cleats several times, even requesting more work with the defenders to avoid all the midfielders. Everyone gave Y/N strange looks when she darted away at the water break and Lindsey reached out to touch a bruise forming on Y/N’s leg.

Somehow, Y/N managed to avoid the team for the next two days. Arriving just on time to meetings, meals, and practices. Leaving as soon as she could. She spent two days putting in extra workouts, extra training, or just wandering the mall. Anything that would keep her put of the hotel and away from the team. She was only trying to avoid the blonde, but she knew it was near impossible to avoid one person in the close group of women.

“Y/L/N!” one of the media coordinators called her as she tried to rush out of another meeting on the third day, “you and Mewis are up for media, let’s go.”

“Fuck” Y/N mumbled, slowly turning around to follow the media person.

“Don’t sound so excited!” Kristie slung an arm across Y/N’s shoulders, “we’re both hot, funny, and supposedly really good at soccer. We are a triple threat!” she tugged Y/N to a stop to jump on her back for a piggy back ride, “we get stuck, just flex these guns,” Kristie teasingly squeezed Y/N’s arms, “and they’ll all be so distracted we can just run away.”

That drew a genuine laugh from the soccer player, she tightened her hold under the blondes’ legs and carried her into the media room.

The media team all laughed as the pair walked in, Kristie having wrapped her legs around Y/N’s waist and around her shoulders., holding so tightly Y/N didn’t need to hold her. Looking similar to koala on a branch.

“USWNT presents ‘Koala or Kristie’. Where we show you a picture and you decide if it’s a koala or a Kristie,” Y/N announced to the media staff as she turned so Kristie could let go and drop right into the chair. When Kristie didn’t let go right away, Y/N reached behind her and began tickling the blonde until her grip let go and she fell into the chair.

The staff all laughed at the pairs antics, “you guys are already live,” one called while the two finished settling into the chairs, handing a phone over so they could read the questions being sent in.

Y/N smirked while she scrolled through the comments, letting Kristie introduce them and officially start their session.

“Alright Y/N/N,” Kristie leaned into Y/N’s side to attempt to read the phone and choose a question, “start off with a good one.”

“I have one of my own before I get to the fan ones,” Y/N giggled, grinning at the blonde while she tugged the phone away, “do you think you have the right koala-fications?”

Kristie stared at Y/N before glancing to the media staff behind the camera, “I think I’m busy today guys, I am available when I can do this with anyone else.”

Y/N maintained a serious expression, “that answers that, Kristie Mewis does not have the right koala-fications,” she began scrolling through the phone looking for a real fan question while Kristie turned and mock gasped at Y/N, “if I could play any other sport professionally, I would be a basketball player,” she continued on, ignoring Kristie staring at her.

Y/N deliberately focused on the phone, waiting for Kristie to say anything, her serious expression slipping and a smirk cracking through.

Kristie shook her head, “no way you could be a basketball player, you’re way too short,” she held a hand up next to her, drastically exaggerating Y/N’s height.

“But I’ve got mad hops, and big feet!” Y/N put her hands under her knee and lifted her leg, so her foot was in view of the camera.

“That just means you have big feet, not that it will make you a good basketball player,” Kristie laughed, pushing Y/N’s foot away from her.

“My mom said I’ll grow into them, there’s still a chance,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. She knew she wouldn’t get any taller, but it was fun working Kristie up.

“You’re 28, you’re not growing into your feet at this point,” Kristie rolled her eyes, shaking her head, “read a question!”

Much of their live session went that way, very few questions being answered. The friends easily distracted, telling stories or just bantering, forgetting the camera was there entirely.

By the end of the say, the video had been picked apart, screenshots were made, and new a secret couple was formed.

Y/N had gone back to avoiding the team, her thoughts even more jumbled now that everyone assumed she was with Kristie. She didn’t have feelings for Kristie, she loved her like a friend and loved their easy going dynamic, but it would never be anything more that. And she knew Kristie felt the same.

“You’re avoiding me,” Lindsey said as greeting when Y/N walked into her room the next day.

“Fuck!” Y/N stepped back into the closed door, her body crashing against it, “what the fuck Lindsey?” she stomped further into the room.

“You’re avoiding me,” Lindsey repeated, sitting in a chair in the corning, watching Y/N move around the room.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Y/N continued to rummage around the room, mindlessly moving things around in order to look busy, “how’d you get into my room?”

“Kicked your rookie out, convinced the poor kid medical needed to redo their testing,” she answered quickly, “you’re avoiding me,” she said it a third time.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Y/N began to refold her suitcase to keep her hands busy and continue to avoid looking at the blonde critically staring at her, “but just to clarify, if I was, you thought the solution was to corner me in my room?”

“Is this because of practice the other day?” Lindsey pushed out of the chair and closed the distance between them, “because I know I’ve felt you up for less than dinner before,” she chuckled softly, stepping close, pressing her body against y/N’s placing a handout to land low on Y/N’s hip.

Y/N abruptly dropped the shirt she was folding and took two large steps away from Lindsey, “Fuck Lindsey, it’s not always about you. I’m not avoiding you. I haven’t hung out with anyone else,” she snapped, her jaw clenching while she stared hard at Lindsey.

Lindsey stared wide eyed at the sudden outburst before gathering herself, snapping back, “yet, Kristie gets to hang all over you.”

“You hang all over me all the time Lindsey, it’s the same thing. Besides, it was for the live thing we did,” Y/N didn’t know what she was so angry all of a sudden. She was avoiding Lindsey and Lindsey was just calling her out on the immature behaviour. Y/N really didn’t understand why she was upset, Lindsey had a right to confront her avoidance. Y/N was the one that had decided to pull away when it seemed Lindsey didn’t see their friendship as anything more. But what Y/N really didn’t understand, was why Lindsey was so upset about Kristie being on her.  

Lindsey knew why she was upset. She had spent the last two days always just missing Y/N and had replayed all their interactions before Y/N seemingly disappeared. The only thing she could come up with when she joked about them going out and shooting down Y/N’s dinner invite. Then she watched the live session Y/N did with Kristie, a few other players planning on throwing in their own obscure questions. The feeling she got in her chest watching Y/N carry Kristie in was a feeling she couldn’t place; she’d never felt it before.

Jealously was what Alex said.

Longing was what Kelley said.

Infatuation was what Rose said.

Gross was what Sam said, thinking it was directed at her sister.

Realization was what Sonnett said.

She sat silent the entire time, that feeling growing throughout. She ruminated on what her friends. None of the words fit, yet, they all fit. That was the problem, they all fit. She was realizing her feelings for Y/N. She was infatuated with how effortlessly funny she was. Longed to be the one Y/N was making smile the way she was making Kristie smile. And she jealous Kristie got to be the one Y/N was with while she had been avoided for two days.

So, Lindsey knew why she was upset. She was frustrated at herself because she wanted to tell Y/N how she felt but she couldn’t get the words out. Could only make a joke that didn’t end up being a great joke because now Y/N was upset too.

“Get over yourself Lindsey. You don’t get a say in who hangs on me and who doesn’t,” Y/N said, her voice had started firm, but sounded defeated by the end. She looked down before shuffling back to the bed to resume folding her clothes.

“But what if I did?” Lindsey rushed out, crinkling her face at how that sounded, implying Y/N was something someone controlled, “fuck, that came out wrong! I meant, I want hang all over you and you to hang all over me. And dinner, so I can feel you up. And I don’t want you avoiding me anymore.”

Y/N’s hands paused while she folder her shirt, before continuing, her eyes never leaving the shirt, “Lindsey, you don’t get to come in here pissed at me because you got jealous, then expect things to be alright.”

“I don’t want that or expect that! Yes, I got so jealous when I saw you and Kristie together and I didn’t even understand what it meant. But then I figured it out, I wanted all our banter and jokes about being together to be real. I don’t want to call you at the end of bad day, because I won’t have to because you’ll be in the bed next to me,” Lindsey saw Y/N’s hands stop moving and the shirt slip back on top of the suit case, Y/N’s arms dropping to her side, but she still wouldn’t look up.  

Lindsey took a tentative step closer, not wanting to spook the girl away like she had initially.

“I want it all to be real. I want everything we had a couple days ago again, but I want it to be real and more. I want this gross longing feeling to stop because I have you again,” taking a risk, she gently held Y/N’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

Y/N squeezed back before letting go, “Linds, just because you got jealous doesn’t me this is what you want. You like the idea of me, you don’t like me. And we can try and go back to how it was before, but my feelings are real, Lindsey, I know how I feel about you.”

“My feelings are real too!” Lindsey gripped Y/N’s hand again, tight, “this isn’t just me being jealous, watching you with Kristie was just what I needed to realize that I was just too scared to admit how I felt about you. I know how I feel about you,” she finished with conviction, reaching for other hand and squeezed both tight.

“Ok,” Y/N nodded, seeing the sincerity on Lindsey’s face.

“Ok?”

Lindsey was confused, she poured her heart out and she gets is ok?

“I don’t know your feelings Linds, but I trust you, and if you say they are real, then they’re real,” she smiled.

“So, can I take you for dinner?” Lindsey asked, still shy even though she knew the answer would be yes.

“And you can feel me up all you want after.”