#judith on sky

[leafith]

Story time!

Today I was playing Sky COTL and I decided to finish all the Realms. I went in the Wastelands - so many Krills😦🔫- and I finally reached with my Skykid (called Judy) the Vault of Knowledge.

I saw some other players and they called me like:«HONK HONK HONK!!!!». So I went to them. They wanted my help to open a door.

Sadly, I didn't have the emote needed to open that door. I spent like half an hour trying to tell them that I couldn't help them and finally one of them (a girl with loose hair) invited me to sit on a bench with her.

I explained to her that it was my first time in the Vault (I didn't tell her about the new and old account because I didn't want to make the long speech) and she offered to help me finish the Realm.

She was so kind! We became friends and her name was Yashi!

She also asked me if we could take a screenshot together (after completing the Vault). I said YES (I MEAN. YESHHHH!!) and she took me to the Prairie (I FUCKING LOVE THE PRAIRIE)! She took a screenshot with her appearing to be offering me dark crabs! I couldn't screen wahhhhhhhh :(

But... I made a gift for her! I hope she has Tumblr so she can see it!

Everything in this drawing happened for real!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭💛💛💛💛💛💛

[camera-worker]

Point Judith, Clouds, 2014

#03-258-05

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

The St James Family Tree (x)​

( aside from Jeremy, Josie, and Joy, the entire St James family exists universally throughout all of my glee fics, though they so far only have set appearances in Get It Right, SOWK, By Its Very Definition, and Corner Of The Sky!  More details about everyone below the cut )

shoutout to @the-witching-ash for helping me develop this entire clusterfuck of a family

Tag List: @airwolf92 – want to be added?

Judith & Joseph St James ( Meryl Streep & Pierce Brosnan ):

The parents of the most unadjusted and emotionally unavailable family in all of Ohio

Jenny St James ( Nicole Kidman ):

Married to Lloyd Kline ( Colin Firth )

Judith & Joseph’s eldest child 

Neglectful mother and trophy wife to a DC politician

Johanna St James ( Kate Reinders ):

Married to Chad Channing ( Chris Pine )

The middle St James child 

Professional absentee parent dreaming of her non-existent Broadway glory days

Former roommates with Shelby Corcoran and Cassie July

Joshua St James ( Zac Efron ):

Sometimes dating Nell Baker ( Anne Hathaway )

The youngest of the St James siblings

Real estate agent in Lima

Jeremy’s guardian, legally as of s2

Part of the long-suffering parent club with Burt, Carol, and Brad

His apartment is well known as being a safe place for glee club members to crash if they’re avoiding being at home and he does have a ranked list of all of the club members

Roman Kline ( Aaron Tveit ):

Jenny & Lloyd’s son / Amelie’s twin

Dalton alum, Cooper Anderson’s high school roommate

Dating Cooper Anderson & Ash Astor ( Anna Kendrick )

Went to law school and is a licensed lawyer but he’s working actor in LA and sometimes New York

( also features in a Somewhere Only We Know prequel, Midnights, the Cooper & Roman Dalton era fic )

Amelie Kline ( Lily James):

Jenny & Lloyd’s daughter / Roman’s twin

Went to Crawford Country

In an eventual relationship with her high school best friend, Lindsay Wright ( Brittany Snow )

Bartender & manager at Scandals

Living with her Uncle Josh in Lima while she attends university

( also features in a Somewhere Only We Know prequel, Midnights, the Cooper & Roman Dalton era fic )

Jesse St James ( Jonathan Groff ):

Johanna’s son, not with Chad but he doesn't know it

An honorary member of the warbler inner circle since he was 10

Carmel High alum, UCLA dropout, now coaching Vocal Adrenaline

Learning to be a better brother

In an eventual relationship with former rival Lucille Newton ( Anna Camp ) 

Joy Schuester ( Lili Reinhart ):

featured in By Its Very Definition ( and various chaotic crossover concepts )

Jesse’s half sister through their father, April Rhodes’ surprise daughter

Easily adopted into the St James clan by Josh, Amelie, Roman, and Jesse

Full time disaster

The best thing Johanna ever did for Jesse was not have Chad as his father, only so that he could have Joy as a sister

Josie St James ( Lily Rose Depp ):

featured in Applause

biological daughter of Johanna St James and Bryan Ryan, has never suspected that she might not be Chad's

Has been acting professionally since she was 3, mostly in commercials, TV, and movies, was the star of a disney channel show from ages 3-8, has continued acting since, is still quite famous

Johanna was an obsessive stage mom to the max

She goes to Carmel High (a sophomore in season 1) and is a leading member of VA – despite this, she has always hated Shelby and absolutely hates the Rachel plan

But she hates Johanna more and wants to live with Josh so she goes along with it all

disaster bitch with mommy issues and daddy issues and body issues and attitude issues

Jeremy St James ( Joshua Bassett ):

featured in Corner Of The Sky ( and various chaotic crossover concepts )

Johanna & Chad’s youngest son and Jesse’s younger brother, not actually Chad's son – Chad suspects this, Jeremy does not

An honorary member of the warbler inner circle since he was 5

lives with his Uncle Josh and cousin Amelie

Absolute sunshine despite an overabundance of family trauma

Currently growing a backbone

[katakaluptastrophy]

I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.

But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.

There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.

Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.

Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.

And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.

Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.

And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.

We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.

[sleepyangelkami]

BRO I NEEDDD MORE OF PERVERTED!!!! OMG LIKE YOUR MIND>>>>>

PERVERTED III c.grimes

 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.6K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - after the perverted thoughts consume carl whole, he realises he needs to act on them and soon finds out that you need him to act on them just as badly.

 𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, heavy innocence kink, corruption kink, pervert!carl, fingering, dom!carl, sub!reader, size kink, pussy eating, cum eating, aged up characters, thigh riding-ish, manipulative carl, praise kink, petnames, use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

series masterlist

after that night in your bedroom, carl was downright desperate.

he realised that he needed to act upon his thoughts before it drove him over the edge of insanity. but there you were, prancing around in your little skirts and dresses, ditzy as ever. how was he ever supposed to explain his need to you?

that was just it, he was going to have to show you.

carl had been your best friend for a long time. you could trust him with anything in the world and carl would know if you'd ever done anything. that was the beauty in it. your innocence was bliss.

you were so innocent to the corrupt minds around you, not a single notion of the horrid thoughts of others. not a clue in your mind of just what carl wanted to do to you. no what he needed to do to you.

he knew he was going to have to ease you into it.

the first time carl had let you feel anything was during a rainy night of alexandria. the clouds were dull and full, slapping down on the outside windows. rick and michonne were on yet another supply run, no surprise there, and you and carl had been put in charge of taking care of judith.

it wasn't until she had been laid down asleep in bed that carl began to shift his mind back to you.

the clouds dulled until they were long gone. the night sky had settled in.

the tv displaying pretty images illuminated the room as you sat on carl's lap. when he'd asked if you'd like to sit there, it came as no surprise. you'd sat on carl's lap tonnes of times. whether it was just you two alone, sitting on the bed or perhaps you were in public, choosing to sit on his thigh rather than the bench occupied by the others.

however, what you didn't know was carl had much more in store for you than just watching the stupid movie that was playing.

you were engrossed in the flashing pictures, watching as each changed to another. you were the type of person to pay all your attention to one thing at a time, finding it hard to focus on more than one.

that was when your attention shifted.

it was a mere, 'innocent', bounce of carl's knee.

he did it as some sort of a test. he'd waited until you were so interested in the movie to do it. your two thighs had splayed at either side of his own. he'd waited until your cunt was snug on the jeans of his leg to rub it gently against you.

and by the sudden breath that left your lips, he deemed that you were almost as satisfied as he was.

nevertheless, you shook the feeling. you assumed the boy beneath you was merely trying to get comfortable so you tried to do the same, writhing yourself in the slightest.

that was when the smallest of whimpers left your mouth. with wide eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, hoping carl hadn't heard. "you okay?" he spoke softly in your ear, alerting you that he had heard.

only, you weren't trying to do anything wrong. like i said, you'd sat on carl's lap tonnes of times. but this time seemed... different. you were suddenly hyper aware of your skirt that was riding up ever so slightly and the way that fixing your position on his leg felt... good?

being in an apocalypse and all, you never really got too much education on... down there.

that was what carl was for, you supposed. he was basically your teacher in everything, any question you had went directly to him.

but what you did know was that parts like that were private and not to be shared. which is why you merely let out a small 'mhm' to indicate that you were, in fact, okay.

"alright." he mumbled back, his voice low as if not to disturb the serenity of the room.

you let a breath out, relaxing once more onto his leg.

carl knew he could have stopped there, letting you be all confused for the rest of the evening on just what that feeling you had was. but he didn't know how much you'd taken in, he needed to make sure that the feeling you felt was going to stick.

which was why he waited mere seconds before bouncing his leg again, like a kid in class riddled with ADHD.

you'd seen carl bouncing his leg like a maniac many times before. he'd do it under a table when he was nervous or angry or anything really. he often cracked his knuckles even when there was no air left to crack and shook his legs like there was no tomorrow. carl was always moving.

so how could you tell him to stop?

what would you even say?

did you even want him to stop?

there was an odd feeling in your stomach as he continued to bounce his leg up and down, hitting smoothly against your covered area. your breathing picked up but you did everything in your will to steady it.

some called carl grimes an ADD nightmare, this was a normal thing for him.

why was it suddenly not so normal for you?

perhaps it was the way his chin gently rested on your shoulder, gentle breath hitting against your neck or the way his hands soothed around your waist, his own calloused hands against your gentle skin where your satin dress lay on top.

the skirt of your dress bounced with every bounce of his leg too, exposing more of your thighs with each steady movement.

he was calculating and gentle, as if he knew you were becoming dizzy.

your throat itched too. you couldn't fathom why though you had a feeling it was a noise trying to crawl out.

you couldn't so much as stop yourself before your hands outstretched onto his thigh, stopping his movements.

he did so with the slightest smirk on his lips, knowing he'd gotten you exactly where you wanted. the way your thighs gently shook around him, you wouldn't so much as turn around. oh yes, you'd definitely felt it.

before he could question you in that gentle, condescending tone, the front door could be heard unlocking.

"gotta get my jacket." was the mumble that fell from your mouth as you helped yourself off of the boy's leg, grasping the pretty coat that sat on the other couch, where you'd originally been sitting. carl got up too, glancing down to his thigh. it was a wonder that there wasn't a large wet splotch on his jeans.

shortly after, rick and michonne entered the house, looking tired as ever. they asked a couple questions about judith, making sure you'd both been taking care of her right before they found themselves stating that they were heading up to bed.

carl gave somewhat of a disgusted look to the way they were looking at eachother. he din't even want to imagine what they'd be getting up to the minute they stepped into the bedroom.

"you sure you don't wanna stay the night?" he questioned, walking you to the front door of his home. you didn't live too far away which was the only reason he was letting you walk out in the dark alone. with his luck, he'd see you getting settled into your house while he still stood at the door.

you looked up at him with slightly wide eyes, you looked a little dazed. your hands were holding eachother behind your back, ignoring the feeling throbbing through your cunt. how had he done something so simple and left you feeling like this? "mhm." you hummed.

he gave you a look. "and you're positive you're okay?" tilting his head. "you seem a little off." he knew exactly why you were off.

but you weren't going to let anything on. "no, i'm okay." nodding your head, trying to convince both him and yourself.

"you know you can talk to me about anything, right baby?" he stepped forward, his words a little quieter as he spoke to you. his eyes flickered down to your bottom lip between your top teeth. "anything at all..."

you looked like you were contemplating, unsure if it was exactly appropriate to share with anyone even if it was just your best friend.

though your eyes quickly turned back to rick who was now standing in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. "I'm okay." you quickly quipped.

rick turned around, swallowing the water. "you off, y/n?" you nodded, swallowing thickly. "right, night then, and thanks again for watching judith."

"anytime." you mumbled back, eyes flickering up to carl. "g'night, carl."

"night, angel." and so, you left.

the sky rose just as soon as it had gone down. carl hadn't steadied his movements since. hours passed, merging into days and carl was getting braver by the second. he couldn't help it, you were like putty, just so easy to mold.

by the time the saturday sleepover rolled around again, the boy was near ecstatic.

he'd gotten you exactly where he wanted in many ways, with little fluttering touches and words whispered gently, that could have been taken in any way. but he must say, his favourite place to have you was sat atop his thigh, gently bumping against it as he shook it from the ground.

he did it again now, maggie and glenn were long gone on yet another supply run, stocking up on the foods. they wouldn't be home until the next morning, possibly the morning after that.

but there simply wasn't anything else carl could think about other than the girl sat perched on his thigh. your hands were near your stomach, fiddling with themseleves, pulling on your fingers gently, contemplating.

carl didn't stop the bounce of his knee, moving it so accurately that you could feel a pool forming in your panties. you'd never felt like this before. and you were sure that carl knew this too.

this was the longest he'd ever done it, he should have stopped ages ago, knowing he didn't wish to push you too far. however, your little shaky breaths had his head spinning, he couldn't stop, not now.

you were contemplating asking him to stop. something about his shaking leg beneath you had you feeling awfully funny. but you couldn't decipher if it was a good feeling or not. besides, you couldn't understand why it was that his moving leg had your head feeling dizzy.

"carl?" your mouth got the better of you. it was supposed to come out as a steady question, voice stable, however, it came out more breathless than you'd intended, a slight whine to the back of your throat.

carl's hands had gently been resting against your waist. "hm?" he took the hint to stop, though.

beneath you, his leg froze.

your mind went sort of fuzzy then, that was when you realised it had, in fact, been a good feeling. your mind raced back to moments ago when the wet patch was forming on your satin panties. you couldn't even register what was going on before you slid yourself against his leg, not once, not even twice.

"sweetheart?" his voice was soft, calculated. it had you realising what you were doing, but still, your aching cunt dragged across his jeaned leg. "what're you doing? hm?"

a breath fell from your lips. you gently willed yourself to stop your movements before turning your face to the boy. you had pinched brows, lips bitten, desperation written all over your face. "carl, i―" the words left had you frowning.

carl merely rubbed his fingers against your waist. "somethin' wrong?" he questioned softly. "'s just me, you can tell me, baby."

and suddenly, it was your last straw.

but carl had already known that.

he'd moved his hands so gently around you for the past week, bounced you against his thigh every chance he got and whispered meak things to you, calling you such pretty names. he knew sooner or later you were bound to snap.

"you..." you let out a sigh, eyes avoiding the boy. "you can't laugh."

without a second thought, carl's fingers hooked themselves beneath your chin, angling your face up and forcing you to look at him. "'m not gonna laugh at you, angel." and his comforting features looked as though they were telling nothing but the truth. "jus' tell me what's going on."

you sighed, trying to avert your eyes. "everytime you bounce your leg... it feels funny." you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, throat closing and your cheeks heating up. it was hard trying to keep your composure in font of him, especially when talking about such a private thing.

"yeah?" seemingly unfazed by what you'd told him. "where's it feel funny?" again, your cheeks heated up, only this time you were sure that you were as red as a tomato. "baby, i can't help you if you don't tell me."

and you were sure you needed his help. after all, he was the only one that had made you feel so... worked up. instead of uttering a word, you practically whined before pushing your head into his shirt covered chest. you grasped his hand, sucking in as you guided it downwards.

carl couldn't help but smirk as you moved his hand to cup your shorts-covered cunt. you whimpered at the touch of his hand, quickly moving your own away, as if scared you were going to mess something up.

carl placed his palm against the pale shorts, his thumb moving up towards your clit and gently drawing circles. you whined loudly. "here's where it feels funny, huh?" you nodded your head quickly, breaths falling ragged as his gentle, tight circles moved against your clit. "y'gonna answer me?"

"y-yes." coming out as more of a moan rather than an answer. you were suddenly thankful that maggie and glenn were nowhere to be found in the house.

there was a sudden smile splayed on his lips. "good girl." he mumbled, sending electric shocks through your body and right down to your aching pussy. you couldn't understand how two simple words were enough to have you rutting your hips against the boys hands.

though instantly, your face heated again. embarrassment flooded you as you realised what was happening, stinging tears finding it's way to your eyes. "carl." you spluttered out, whimpering as you did so. carl merely shushed you, his free hand coming down to land on the back of your hair, holding your head close to it's place on his chest.

"wh's wrong, baby?" he waited for a response, all you could give him was a second whimper. "want me to stop?"

"no!" was your much too enthusiastic response that had his lips curving upwards. so you did want it as much as he did. "no, please don't stop."

"then tell me what you want." you shied away, cheeks evidently rosy and pink. but you didn't utter a word, much too sheepish.

suddenly, the feeling he was giving to your clit completely stopped. his hand still hung low but they didn't touch you. the whine you let out had your eyes turning glassy. he reminded you that he'd asked you to tell him what you wanted. but you could barely hear his voice now, mind too clouded with the previous pleasure. "f-felt..." your own hand attempted to replace his, rubbing at your covered cunt but it didn't give you the pleasure his had.

you felt his hand reach up and snap your wrist between his fingers, stopping your movements. "you wanna feel good, huh?" you nodded your head, tears stinging. "then the only hands that get to touch you are mine, understood?" you nodded before he squeezed on your wrist, not hard enough to hurt. "understood?"

"yes." was the breathless word as his fingers let go of your wrist.

"now, tell me what you want." almost instantly, his stern voice had disappeared and turned into one of softness again. it was almost scary how quickly he could turn from one demeanour to another. but you were much too hazy now to question anything.

you breathed heavily, cheeks warm. but carl just waited, his eyes looking at you full of admiration, a stark contrast to the stern look he'd had before. "i want..." he waited, not rushing you, patiently. "want you to make me feel good." your voice was so quiet, so small and you were looking anywhere but his face. you thought it was somewhat awkward in a sense, more scary really. he'd shrug it off for your natural shyness that simply never went away.

"see?" his voice gentle and loving. "wasn't hard, was it?" you shook your head no despite it being the hardest thing you'd done all year. "now get onto your back, angel." you did what he said, not wishing to disappoint him. he followed by climbing on top of you, watching your doe eyes slightly widen.

a breath.

he was so close, lips practically brushing against your own. you'd known carl a very long time but you were sure this was the closest he'd ever been. "'m gonna kiss you, okay?" you nodded, slightly unsure. you'd never been kissed before and you had no idea that it related to the feeling that you'd felt earlier. "it'll all make sense in a second, sweetheart." he mumbled, hands on your waist. "just... relax."

and suddenly, his lips were on yours.

his lips were even softer than they looked. and if that was what you thought of his lips, you could only imagine what he thought of yours. he kissed you gently, open mouthed kissing with his tongue slipping past yours.

now you understood.

it definitely related to the feeling.

as he was kissing you, you had the sudden urge to roll your hips upwards, into his own. carl had this way of making you feel so comfortable that you didn't have to worry the outcome. so you did. rolling your hips gently yet desperately.

you felt him let out a harsher breath into your mouth. his lips moved from your mouth. you felt him press a kiss to the corner of your lips, then to your chin and down to your neck. the feeling of him sucking against the supple skin had a whimper falling from your lips, then another and a long stretched whine.

his lips moved away and his tongue soothed down the hurt skin.

you supposed, you knew what sex was. it was an intimate form of love on your partner. was that what you and carl were going to do? sex? carl wasn't your boyfriend but he was the only one in the entire world you'd felt such a connection to. you supposed, if anyone was to have sex with you, it may as well be carl grimes.

"sweetheart." he breathed against your neck. "keep making sounds like that 'n i won't be able to last." to last? for what?

you didn't even care what he was saying, just the sound of his voice was enough to have you reeling. "carl, please just..."

"shh." he hushed you, practically cooing. "s'needy." before his hands moved back down towards your shorts. "can i take this off?" though he wasn't just grasping the band of your shorts but of your panties too. however, you couldn't seem to care. nodding enthusiastically before helping him guide the material off your body.

carl's breath hitched in his throat. he'd seen you before, he'd seen you when you were sleeping and he plunged a finger inside you, tasted you even. even so, it was like seeing you for the first time all over again.

he could see you red as a tomato above him, covering your face. you'd known carl forever, but something about being nude with him over you on your couch seemed like something a best friend shouldn't do. carl didn't allow the shyness to continue, peppering gentle kisses across the skin of your face. "hey, hey." gently removing your hands. "you're beautiful."

your hands suddenly pawed at the end of his shirt. if you were going to be bare, he should too, right? "can you..?"

"wan't me to take of my shirt, baby?" you only nodded, pressing your lips together. he nodded himself before placing his hands at the end of his shirt, bringing it up and above his head, tossing it off the couch. "your turn." he mumbled, pressing kisses to your neck before grasping the bottom of your own shirt. you allowed him to pull it over your own head.

it was no surprise that there was no bra found underneath, your perky tits bouncing gently. he moved his lips downwards, sucking on one and grasping the other between his fingers, flicking over your pretty nipple. you whined, back arching off the couch and hands finding his hair, tugging at the strands.

his lips popped over your nipple, letting go with a string of spit attatching the two of you. he pushed his large hand onto your chest, thumb at one end of your tits and other fingers at the other, pushing them together. you were so small compared to him, it had his own mind reeling. "so fucking pretty."

"carl." there was desperation in his eyes. the amount of times you had uttered his name would have made anyone think you were reciting it as if he were god himself. "need you." you didn't even know what you meant yourself. all you did know was that you needed him, in whatever way possible.

"i know, pretty girl." his fingers traced your cheek, cupping it ever so softly. "'m gonna touch you, okay?"

nervously, you found yourself nodding. you knew by him touching you, the ache would go away. how you knew that, you were unsure. perhaps it was because you put so much trust in carl to do what was right.

you expected the soft flutter of his long fingers, the gentle tracing of the pads against your skin. what you hadn't been expecting was the mouth that suddenly landed on your core.

as if on cue, your back arched against the couch once more. a moan of both surprise and pleasure fell from your lips. you felt the vibrations of a chuckle throughout your body, from him. he'd been waiting for this moment for too long to let it slip from his fingers.

the foreign feeling of a face between your thighs had you writhing. you allowed his tongue to explore your cunt, whining and whimpering while your hands clung to his hair, overcome with a foreign pleasure.

never, had you felt this good in your entire life.

an eerie sense was embedded right in your stomach, telling you that this was all wrong. the feelings you felt and the way his hands moved against your body, it had to be wrong. but the pleasure of his tongue lapping against your cunt told you that no matter how hard he tried, nothing carl could do would ever be wrong.

you felt him insert a finger into your hole and you were sure you'd lost it.

"carl!" you moaned out, unsure what words to use. "carl―nughhh!" no words could grasp your tongue signifying how good it felt.

your wetness seeped onto his tongue, decorating it with your pretty juices, and his finger had a rim of white surrounding it, belonging to you. his face moved up from your pussy, glancing to your own face. your head was thrown back, eyes shut and reflection twisted. "i know, baby." pumping his finger in and out of you in quick motions. "feels good, huh?"

you nodded your head, babbling incoherently despite the fact that carl couldn't make out a single word you said. he nodded with a smirk, anyway.

this was so much better now that you were awake.

"uh huh?" he was practically testing you, your moans coming out strangled and harsh. "yeah, told you i'd fix it, huh?"

and boy, did he fix it.

the sensation grew and you began to get a sudden knotted feeling in your stomach. it was foreign, new and strange. but despite that, you were sure you'd felt it before. perhaps in a dream? one of which carl had remembered all too well.

a sudden panicked state came over you. "carl" you babbled out, a hint of worry in your voice.

carl placed his free hand on your thigh, gently rubbing against it and shushing you. "shh, shh, you can take it." his mouth travelling back to where you needed him the most.

you couldn't even give him a warning.

the orgasm fell over you before you could even register what was happening. your back practically lept from the couch, good thing carl's hand had been keeping your stomach steady against the material. mewls fell from your lips, shameful mewls that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

your legs shook from around his head, his name falling from your red and swollen lips like a prayer, fingers tight around his little curls.

finally, his head reappeared from it's place between your thighs, a grin on his face.

your eyes were low, sort of red. and he swore it was the prettiest sight he'd ever seen.

"feel good, huh?" pride on his smug face. he came up to meet your own by the arm of the couch, hand moving your hair past your ear.

you had this sinking, gnawing feeling as you glanced up at him. "but... what about you?" thinking that surely couldn't have made him feel good. you'd never experienced pleasure like that before, you were sure everyone in the world should get to experience it at least once.

"don't worry about me, sweet girl." peppering gentle kisses to the nape of your neck. "next time." he spoke despite his hand moving against his dick, straightening it out after his own cum leaked through his jeans.

he came in his pants because of you. again.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

[kohaive]

expression meme pt 2

[irmise]

I've been invested in this relationship since season 3 when Michonne arrived at the prison with baby formula. I couldn't get it out of my head that Michonne arriving with Judith's milk just as Rick was finally becoming aware of his daughter, it couldn't be a coincidence. An angel fallen from the sky.

Since that day I've been invested because I was sure that they would end up together despite the "it will never happen" I constantly heard around me. And I've dissected all their exchanges, their looks, their similarities, their differences, their fights, their chemistry over all these years. I thought I knew them by heart.

And yet, this episode showed me a whole new side of them individually and as a couple. I didn't think there were still parts of their personalities that we hadn't seen, I didn't think their love could hurt and heal them so much at the same time..

Through years, pain, destruction, despair, death, they always manage to find each other.

The word soulmate was created for them.

Now, they deserve their happy ending, they deserve to finally be able to rest surrounded by their children. The fight need to be over for them...

You know what, back to the prison, I didn't know that I had chosen to believe in the most beautiful love story. 🥹

[astrosky33]

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑

ABOUT ME

Hello! I’m Skylar if you’re new to my page and I got my diploma in astrology from Kepler College (the #1 best astrology school in the world)

I’ve been studying astrology for over a decade now as well and these are the books I recommend

☆ BEGINNER BOOKS ☆

The Only Astrology Book You’ll Ever Need by Joanna Woolfolk

Goes over all the basic information for beginners and has interpretations written in as well. In the beginning of the book it focuses a lot on Sun Signs but gives more insight on other placements later in the book don’t worry

Astrology for the Soul by Jan Spiller

Another great book for beginners. I like the interpretations

The Inner Sky by Steven Forrest

Written by a very renowned astrologer. He goes over signs, aspects, etc and breaks them all down really well

You were born for this by Chani Nicholas

I love how this book goes over how to use astrology in your daily life and isn’t just cookie cutter definitions of placements like many other books. It’s also interactive and you can write in some pages which is always fun. It’s one of my favorite books for beginners

Aspects in astrology by Sue Tompkins

This is a great book for people curious about what each aspect means and how they can manifest into your life

☆ INTERMEDIATE BOOKS ☆

Predictive Astrology by Michele Adler

This book is definitely worth the price. It gives lots of information on techniques you can use to make predictions in astrology. It’s based on Western Astrology

The Art of Predictive Astrology by Carol Rushmam

Another great predictive astro book that talks about how to make predictions based on transits in your chart

Medical Astrology by Judith Hill

This is a great book with information on body part astrology and medical information. Although I do want to note when reading this do not be afraid if you share one of the transits that the public figures mentioned had during their health issues arising as astrology is a polarity. Meaning you can take on positive traits rather than the challenging ones often

☆ ADVANCED BOOKS ☆

Asteroid Goddesses by Demetra George

Goes over all the major asteroids in astrology. This can help you a lot if you’re interested in learning basic information on asteroids

Planets in Composite by Robert Hand

There are not many books out there on Composite compatibility so out of all of them this is my favorite even though it’s very basic it’s still a good read if you’re learning about Composite charts

The Psychology of Astrocartography by Jim Lewis

This is the best book about astrocartography I’ve found so far and very informative. The only bad thing I have to say about this book is that the print is really small. It’s amazing other than that though

☆ OLD AGE ASTRO BOOKS ☆

Mastering Traditional Astrology by Mychal A. Brian

If you’re more interested in old age astrology then this is an amazing read. You can purchase it on Amazon

Astrology of the Tree by David Frawley

This is great for beginners in vedic astrology and goes over all the basics. Really anything by David Frolly is great if you want to learn about vedic

The Nakshatras; the Lunar Mansions of Vedic Astrology by Dennis Harness

It’s a short read and goes over all the meanings of all the nakshatras

Light on Relationships by Hart De

A very comprehensive read that goes over synastry in Indian astrology. It gives lots of interesting techniques that can give insight on future marriages as well

Mayan Calender Astrology by Kenneth Johnson

This is extremely hard to comprehend so don’t purchase if you’re new to astrology. Even I had to read it a few times to fully get it. It discusses the astrology that the egyptians wrote in their hieroglyphics

☆ BOOKS I STUDIED FOR MY DIPLOMA ☆ [these aren’t all of them just some of my faves]

Sky and Psyche; the relationship between cosmos and consciousness by Nicholas Campion and Patrick Curry

This is an extremely underrated book and one of my favorites by far. This book goes over not just meanings of the planets, houses, synastry aspects, etc but also why the planets manifest in certain ways

The planetarization of consciousness by Dane Rudhyar

This one isn’t a basic overview like the other books I’ve mentioned it’s more psychological type astrology which I found really interesting

History of western astrology volume 1 & 2 by Nicholas Campion

This goes over how astrology has been used throughout history and why it was used in the past

☆ OTHER ASTRO BOOKS ☆

Moonology by Yasmin Boland

This is a manifestation astrology book. It gives an amazing story about the authors life before using astrology and manifestation and how it impacted them. Great for learning how to manifest using the moon cycles and astrology

The Handbook of Chinese Horoscopes by Theodora Lau and Laura Lau

My favorite Chinese astrology book. There isn’t many good ones out there

Birth Time Rectification by Paul Manley

There are some things I would’ve added to this book that weren’t mentioned but other than that it’s pretty good in helping find the right birth times using vedic astrology

<- 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

[figonas]

I’m sorry but you all aren’t listening, lyctorhood itself is not the “indelible sin” and you can pry this theory from my cold dead hands, honestly, maybe not even then. TazMuir herself could not dissuade me until she explicitly tells me otherwise. My proof for this you ask? Pyrrha’s conversation with Varun in NtN chapter 9.

But let’s backtrack for a second. John has stated that the resurrection beasts are after him and the lyctors for committing the indelible sin of lyctorhood, and as such the lyctors can never return to the Dominican System for fear of drawing the RBs back to the Nine Houses. I’ve never believed this was true given the fact that John is always the greatest common denominator when it comes to the presence of an RB and there’s no mention of an RB going after a lone lyctor. Sure, lyctors have been killed fighting resurrection beasts but there’s a huge difference between being caught in the crossfire and starting a firefight. For me, Nona the Ninth only reinforced that what we’ve been told is the “indelible sin” is either John misunderstanding the RBs (doubtful) or lying for his own purposes (more likely).

In chapter 9 of NtN, Nona recounts the story of her disastrous beach trip and towards the end of this recitation Nona says that Pyrrha;

“…crossed to the taped-up window, bottle and glass in hand. To Nona’s awe, she twitched the blackout curtains aside—stood bathed in the hyper-blue light from the sky as Nona held her breath—and she said to the window, “Here’s to Camilla Hect, yet another of devotion’s casualties,” and knocked back the glass. Then she said to the light, quite gently, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.”

Pyrrha stands in front of Nona, bathed in the light of Varun the Eater, and proceeds to have a conversation with it. We only get one side but based on the context of the last line, “No, I don’t blame you, man … He was always looking for things to throw himself on.” Varun seemingly apologizes to Pyrrha for killing G1deon. It’s proven later on in the book that Varun can speak to Nona, and while it could be argued that since G1deon is dead and his soul is gone the “indelible sin” has been undone this still begs the question; why would the punisher apologize to the sinner?

If Varun and the other RBs are hunting the lyctors to dole out justice for their sins why would they apologize for doing the very thing they sought to do unless that wasn’t their true intent. The “indelible sin” is not the consumption of another soul, it is the consumption of a specific soul. It is John taking Alecto into himself, not being able to house all of her and instead making an exchange. Housing a piece of her in him, and a piece of him in her. Splintering the soul of a great and terrible force into manageable parts. Which explains Varun’s ominous presence hanging over the planet in the first place.

If RBs are hunting Lyctors there are no lyctors on this planet. Palamedes has not consumed Camilla’s soul, G1deon is gone, Harrow is in the River, Gideon is thumbtacked to her dead body, the only soul of any significance to Varun is Nona. Later on in chapter 13 Varun, by way of Judith, says to Nona;

“…what they did to you and what they wrung from you and what shape they made you fill—we see you still—we seek you still—we murdered—we who murder—you inadvertent tool—you misused green thing—come back to us—take vengeance for us—we saw you—we see you—I see you.”

And in chapter 27,

“….what did he do to you, to make you this way.”

What did HE do to you!!! what did HE do to YOU!! To give John credit he doesn’t deserve he may not realize it himself but the RBs have been looking for Alecto this whole time. They don’t want the lyctors, they want what John stole, they want the piece of Alecto inside of him. Want to make her whole again, their misused green thing. She’s almost there. She has her piece back from harrow’s body, united with the piece of her hidden in the locked tomb. She only has 1 piece left to collect. And god knows what will happen when the green and breathing thing is whole once again.

[d1xonss]

Hey have a great day! 🫶🏻🪻Could you write about Reader who lives in Alexandria when The group first were brought by Aaron.Daryl noticing the resemblance between him and reader being distant from actual citizens in Alexandria and not wanting to participate in parties or fun always going out from the gates to forest.Reader also has a huge scar on her eye something like Carl’s. Daryl making her feel beautiful showing each other their scars and fluffy ending

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 5

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff

✧ Word Count : 2k

AN ~ Me actually finishing a request that’s been sitting in my drafts forever?? Everyone clap😌. No but seriously, I'm proud of myself for finally getting this done, I hope it was worth the wait and you guys enjoy it. xoxox

You were the first person he noticed. That’s what he thought anyway. He wasn’t focused on the new houses, the strong walls, or the many unrealistic luxuries the new community provided. His curiosity solely remained on you from the very first moment he could remember.

You were different from the other people who lived in the area. Whilst they were all warm and welcoming the second he and his family stepped through the gates, you didn’t seem the least bit interested in their arrival. Though you were still present, watching from a distance as you absorbed the new faces, yet you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to greet them properly. He remembered how you stood on the porch of your house, your arms folded over your chest as you eyed everyone somewhat suspiciously. He remembered how your gaze seemed to linger on Carl and Judith, noting the two kids that needed a place like this to be safe.

But the thing he would surely never forget, was when he first spotted your scar. From a distance even, he could make out the shape of a long, crooked gash that traveled from the middle of your forehead and down toward your eye, stopping in the area right above your cheek. It was prominent, noticeable from even a hundred feet away, and something that surely was proof that you had been through a lot. Though even if you didn’t have any evidence on your skin, Daryl could still tell from your weariness that life outside of these walls wasn’t all that generous to you. Just as it hadn’t been for him.

Weeks seemed to pass by, and he still didn’t even know your name. Yet he was very observant whenever he managed to spot you walking down the streets of Alexandria, almost as if he had a sixth sense like he knew you were near. Most of the time he would just watch you, curious and hesitant, not looking to bother you though he couldn’t help but be intrigued. However, he picked up a pattern in your routine, noting that around the same time everyday you would leave the community to head off into the woods. For hours you would just disappear, not coming back until the sun was starting to cast an orange and pink glow to the sky. 

Though every time you would return, you came back with nothing. Not an animal, not a single can of food, nothing. It confused Daryl slightly, wondering what it was you did out there for the entire day only to come back empty handed.

He felt drawn to you, relating in a way that the others couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Whether you knew it or not, the two of you seemed to have a lot in common, not even needing to be on speaking terms to know that for a fact. Both quiet and reserved with a harsh past, not liking to interact much with others seeing as you hardly left your home, other than to head off into the forest day after day. The wilderness alone seemed to be something you both enjoyed as well. Perhaps you also liked to hunt, or maybe you also had a love for bikes and trinkets. Daryl didn’t know for sure, but one of these days, he wanted to find out.

The man wasn’t good with words, which was why it had taken him so long to build up the courage to speak to you in the first place. But when he spotted you sitting near the pond, reading a book he was surprisingly familiar with…he took a chance. For the first time in his life it seemed like, he threw caution to the wind and decided to go through with it before he changed his mind.

His hands clenched and unclenched nervously with each step he took to approach you, not even fully knowing what to say once he got there. He racked his brain over and over again as you were just a few feet away now, but ultimately he ended up with nothing, now awkwardly just standing in front of the bench you sat at.

But sensing his presence, you looked up from the pages to see him lingering near, his heart doing a flip in his chest. You were…beautiful. He had never really seen you up close until this very moment, but now that he had, it was like he never wanted to look away. He could see the gold flakes in your eyes, the freckles that were scattered all over your face, and lastly…the scar that was embedded in your flesh. But it didn’t bother him at all. In fact…he liked it.

A sheepish, lopsided smile crossed his face as he nervously ran a hand over the back of his neck, “Hey…”

He watched as you slowly smiled back at him, setting your book off to the side, something he didn’t necessarily expect. But you had a certain look to your expression, telling him that you had been wanting to seek him out just as much as he did you.

“Hi…” your voice spoke softly.

And from that point on, he was hooked.

The two of you had grown to be insuperable, which was somewhat of a shock to the rest of the community seeing as neither of you really liked anyone. But with each other, it was somehow different. Like there was an understanding there. You could be sat in comfortable silence without really being alone, enjoying each other's presence even if you didn’t have the energy to fill the quiet. Or you could have company when going on small runs or hunting trips, which Daryl ultimately found out you liked to do. Or there would be times where neither of you could seem to shut up, bouncing stories back and forth as you shared a bottle of whiskey which also helped loosen the tongue.

But the bottom line was, you were happy. For the first time in your life, you finally felt like you had found your person. A soulmate you didn’t even know existed, yet he seemed to fall right into your lap.

Though one afternoon, Daryl noticed you were a bit quieter than usual. At first he didn’t think much of it as he assumed you didn’t feel like talking much that day. But the longer he observed you, the more he could sense that something was wrong, that something might’ve been bugging you. And the truth was he was right, something had been bothering you. But you would rather die than bring it up to him.

Your voice filled the silence of the forest as the two of you sat in the grass of the clearing, reading aloud from the book that was propped up in your hands. Daryl observed you as he laid on his back, one arm placed underneath his head as the other drew absentminded circles up and down your arm. He usually wasn’t one for physical touch, in fact most of the time he cringed at the thought. But again, with you, it was different. He felt comfortable enough to be open and vulnerable with you, just as you were with him. Or so he thought until he slowly came to the realization that you were clearly keeping something from him.

Once you finished the chapter and closed the book to set aside, he let the silence linger for a moment before he spoke quietly, “You okay?”

You looked down at him, forcing a small smile, “Yeah…I’m fine. Why?”

He tilted his head, “Come on. Ya know you can talk to me bout anythin.” he said as he slowly sat up to scoot beside you, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

A soft sigh left your lips, “I’m fine.” you repeated.

“Yer a terrible liar.” he retorted, though he didn’t push much further. He knew if you wanted to tell him, you would, and he didn’t want to make you uneasy by bringing up the subject over and over again. He just worried about you, being someone he cared about deeply, it came at a price of some heavy protectiveness.

You slowly shook your head as you looked down at the few wildflowers in front of you, “Just…one of those days.” you admitted quietly.

His heart sank a little as he knew what you meant by that. There were times where you would get down in the dumps about yourself, feeling a bit more insecure than usual. It was something common, hell he even knew the feeling himself, but it still hurt to see. Especially when he couldn’t wrap his head around it; to him you were the most stunning person in the entire world.

After a moment he gently reached out to take your chin in his grasp, turning your face so you would look at him. His eyes studied you, his thumb moving up to trace the line of your scar, the same insecurity that your mind seemed to linger on the most.

“Yer beautiful.” he said softly.

You huffed quietly with a slight roll of your eyes, clearly trying to brush off his comment as if it didn’t register or matter to you. “M’ serious.” he tried again.

“Well, I don’t feel beautiful.” you gently argued, “Everyone always stares…like this is the only thing they can see when they look at me.” you said quietly as you gestured to the thing marking your flesh.

He tilted his head a little as he took in your words, knowing where you were coming from as it couldn’t be easy having to deal with that every single day. But somehow he wanted to prove how special you were, how breathtaking you were in his eyes, how he hardly even focused on your flaws. Because to him, your “flaws” were only what made you more perfect to him.

“You wanna know how I see ya?”

You tilted your head at him, as if you knew his answer would make you cry and gag at the same time as affection was still something you were getting used to. Though at the same time, you wanted to hear.

“I see ya as someone who’s got the biggest heart the world has ever seen. I see ya…as someone brave, and smart…and stubborn as all hell.” he listed. You couldn’t help but laugh at the last one, knowing it was true.

“But mostly…when I look at you, I see the most beautiful person I ever laid my eyes on.”

The sincerity in his voice was enough to cause a lump to form in your throat, knowing that he meant every word. He truly cared about you, he had proved that time and time again since you had met him. Honestly, you didn’t know what you did to deserve someone who cared about you so dearly, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take it for granted. Not now, not ever.

“I know it’s not an easy thing to get past…shit, m’ still self conscious about my own demons sometimes. But whenever ya start to feel like this…I just want ya to know I’ll always be there to reassure ya. Alright?”

You slowly nodded your head, leaning forward to wrap your arms around him in a hug, sighing at the feeling of his touch. His hands gently gripped your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder, willing to hold you for as long as you needed. Willing to tell you however many times you needed to hear it, just how special and important you were. He wanted to make sure you felt loved, knowing that you hadn’t received much of that in your past. It was like he wanted to heal your inner child, just like you were doing for him.

“I…” you started to say, but the words seemed to get lodged in your throat, not fully knowing how to express yourself comfortably.

But Daryl just tightened his grip on you, “I know…me too.”

~ Thanks for reading! (And for your patience)

[dixons-sunshine]

Scooby Snacks with your Whiskey | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: One night when you couldn't sleep, you decided to join Daryl in the guard tower and keep him company. During a game of truth or drink, Daryl unknowingly insulted your favourite childhood cartoon, which resulted in playful arguments, accidentally shattered whiskey bottles and confessions.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Prison, post season 3, pre season 4

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, sexual innuendos but nothing major.

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: This is based off of what Daryl told Beth in s4 episode 12 right before they set the cabin on fire. He was talking about a cartoon about a talking dog, and my mind instantly went to Scooby Doo, and so this fic was born. It's not really good, since I'm still trying to get into the writing momentum, but I hope you enjoy!

Also, my requests are open for any TWD requests if y'all wanna send any!

—

"Hey. Would you mind some company?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl turned around. He hummed and nodded for you to come closer, to which you complied. You stood beside him in silence, quietly observing the walkers at the fences. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was stealing glances at you, his hands fidgeting with his crossbow string.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a regular thing that happened whenever he was in your general area. You looked up at him with that smile that always made butterflies fly around in his stomach and your eyes always seemed to sparkle brighter than the stars in the night sky, and although Daryl liked the quiet away from everyone, you were one of his only exceptions.

Daryl loved hearing you talk. He loved listening to you talk about your life before and although he wouldn't admit it, he was always captivated by the bedtime stories you told little Judith. The way you changed your voice to match the emotion of the part you were telling, even though Judith didn't understand anyway and would react the same regardless, was enchanting to him. He would listen to you talk for hours if he could.

And above all, he loved your caring yet badass nature. The way you would take down walkers with a skilled ease, and then in the same breath turn to him and check him for any injuries with a concerned look on your face made him feel drawn to you. You actually cared about him, in a way nobody ever had. Daryl didn't believe that anything was perfect, but you were the closest thing to perfect there was.

It also didn't help that you were absolutely breathtaking to him. From the beautiful colour of your eyes to your perfectly plump lips that he's wanted to kiss on more occasions than one. Daryl couldn't define how he felt about you because he never felt this way about anyone before, but he knew his feelings for you ran deeper than what could be described as platonic. And that fact scared him.

A soft sigh from you snapped Daryl from his thoughts. He looked over at you and noticed that you seemed to be deep in thought, a small frown on your face as you kept your eyes trailed on the ground below.

"Penny for yer thoughts?" Daryl prompted, instantly gaining your attention. Your eyes trailed over to him and his heart skipped a beat at the smile you gave him.

"Just thinking," you responded nonchalantly, shaking your head in dismissal. You pushed away from the railing you were leaning over and turned your body fully to look at Daryl.

Daryl hummed softly, his eyes trailing over you before shifting back to look at the fences. "Ya wanna talk 'bout it?" He questioned.

"It's stupid."

"Ain't stupid if it's botherin' ya," he retorted, turning his body to fully face you as well.

You sighed before shaking your head. "It's just... I'm thinking about my mom. The last thing we did before all of this was fight over something stupid and now..." You trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under the archer's stare.

"Ya think she didn't make it?" He finished for you, giving you a knowing look.

"I know she didn't make it. She was diagnosed with cancer about two weeks before all of this started, and there aren't exactly doctors around who could've helped her," you responded, awkwardly fidgeting with your fingers.

"'M sorry to hear tha'. This world jus' ain't meant for people with sicknesses like tha'," Daryl said, and mentally kicked himself for saying that. There you were, confiding in him over something serious and that's the best he could come up with? He felt like a perfect fool.

However, instead of being angry at him, you looked at him with a small smile, much to his surprise. "Yeah," you started. "I just hope that she didn't suffer. She was a good woman."

"Were ya close?" Daryl asked, his blue eyes meeting your beautiful ones. He hoped that he wasn't prying, but he wanted to know more about you, the woman who haunted his thoughts 24/7.

You nodded. "We were."

"Ya make a lot of good memories with her?"

You laughed lightly, surprising the archer. "What is this, 20 questions?"

Daryl frowned. "What?"

"20 questions," you repeated, noting that your repetition didn't spark recognition in the archer's eyes. "It's a game you play with your friends at parties, sleepovers, you name it. You all take turns asking each other any questions you want."

"Never heard of it," Daryl said, shrugging his shoulders. He felt awkward under your intense stare, your eyes widened with surprise.

You softly gasped in surprise. Then, an idea struck you. "Wait here."

"It's my shift," he stated matter-of-factly. "Ain't goin' nowhere until dawn."

"Perfect."

With one last look at Daryl, you climbed down from the guard tower, excitedly rushing into the cellblock and into your cell. You bent down in front of your bed and retrieved what you were looking for; a bottle of whiskey you found on a run. With a renewed excitement, you gripped the bottle tightly and headed back up to the guard tower, finding Daryl waiting patiently.

Daryl glanced at the bottle in your hand and looked at you questioningly. "Where'd ya find tha'?" He asked, watching you approach with a slight smile on his face. He could practically see your excitement, the big smile on your face infectious.

"On a run a couple of weeks ago. I've been waiting for the right moment to open it, and the right moment has now presented itself," you said, sitting cross-legged on the floor and motioning for Daryl to do the same.

"How so?" He questioned, following your lead by sitting down on the ground in front of you. He kept his eyes trailed on you, watching your every move.

"Well, I was gonna suggest we play 20 questions, but I don't wanna force you into answering a question you don't want to, so we're gonna play truth or drink instead. We ask questions back and forth, and if we don't wanna answer the question that was asked, we drink. It's as simple as that."

"And I dun' got any say in if I wanna play or not?" Daryl asked, a small, teasing smile on his face. His smile turned into something more genuine when you let out a light laugh.

"Nope!" You laughed, opening the bottle and placing it in between the two of you. "You wanna start?"

Daryl hesitated, pursing his lips. "I dun' know wha' to ask."

"Anything. There are no wrong questions," you reassured him, leaning back on the palm of your hands.

"Alrigh'," he drawled, unsure of himself. "Wha' was yer favourite movie before all of this?"

"There you go," you praised him with a smile, making Daryl duck his head as heat flushed his face. "To be honest, I don't really know. I watched a lot of movies, so I don't think I can narrow it down to one. But I have a couple of favourites. The Breakfast Club and Back to the Future are two of them."

Daryl nodded, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. "Now 's yer turn, righ'?" He questioned.

"Yeah," you confirmed. After a couple of beats of silence, you voiced your question. "Who was your first kiss?"

Daryl shifted awkwardly, embarrassment filling his body. "I honestly dun' remember her name. It was some girl in a dive bar Merle used to drag me to. She was drunk and I was helpin' her to her car when she turned around and kissed me."

"How old were you?" You asked, genuinely interested. Daryl rarely talked about his past, so when he did, you ingrained every piece of what he said into your mind.

"Nah, 's my turn to ask the questions. Wait yer turn," he joked, eliciting a laugh from you.

"Touché, Dixon, touché. Ask away."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, a habit you noticed he unknowingly did whenever he was thinking. You found it absolutely endearing, but the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you found most things about the archer endearing. The way he fiddled with his bolts whenever he was bored, the way he flicked his hair out of his face with the shake of his head, his small smile—you could go on a rant about his smile, and you have before. Michonne happened to be the victim who was forced to listen to your lovesick rambling in the car on your way back from the same run you'd gotten the whiskey from.

Begrudgingly snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you patiently waited for Daryl to continue the game. Feeling your stare on him, he asked the first thing that popped to mind, and instantly wished he didn't.

"Who was yer first sex partner?"

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, heat creeping up your cheeks at a rapid pace. Daryl felt his own face flush, feeling stupid for asking the question.

"Sorry. Ya dun' have to answer tha'," he apologised, his eyes darting to the floor.

"No, it's okay. Like I said, no wrong questions. Besides, if I don't answer, I have to drink," you said, trying to compose yourself. You took a deep breath. Of all the things you thought you'd be doing tonight, you didn't think you'd be discussing who your first intimate partner was with the guy you had feelings for. "My highschool boyfriend, senior year."

Daryl nodded and left it at that. He leaned back on his hands, watching you carefully. He was surprised that you'd actually answered the question, given the personal privacy boundaries he pushed. He silently promised himself that whatever personal question you asked him, he would answer.

"What's the most petty fight you've ever gotten into because of Merle?" you questioned, looking at him expectantly.

Daryl stayed quiet for a few moments, thinking hard about his answer. "It was with this one guy. He was Merle's dealer. He was a small, janky white guy. We were over at his house one day, jus' loungin' around and watchin' TV, some stupid kids show playin'. It was barely noon, we were all wasted and Merle was high. Merle decided to take a piss outta the show, and when he started, he wouldn't let up. He never could when he was high."

Daryl stopped for a moment, collecting his thoughts while your gaze remained fixated on him. You seemed genuinely interested in the story, your eyes sparkling with wonder. Your lips were slightly parted and it took everything in Daryl not to act on his urge to kiss your pretty lips.

"It turns out, the cartoon was the guy's favourite show, and he got hella pissed 'bout it. 'M pretty sure Merle didn't know it was the guy's favourite show. I mean, he never saw the guy except when he needed somethin', but tha' didn't matter. The guy punched Merle in the face, and tha's when I got into the fight. 'M on this guy and 'm punchin' him as hard as I can, but then the guy pulls a gun on me, sticks it righ' against my head and threatens to shoot me."

"Oh, god," you murmured, slightly horrified.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, seemingly unfazed at your reaction. "Tha's when Merle pulls out his gun and points it at the guy. At this point, everyone's yellin', I'm yellin'... I thought I was gonna die tha' day."

"How'd you get out of it?" You asked, bringing your knees up to rest your head on them.

"I didn't. The guy ended up punchin' me in the gut and I puked on the floor. They both started laughin' at me and everythin' was magically over," Daryl said, shaking his head at the memory. "And to think that happened over some dumbass cartoon about a talkin' dog."

You visibly stiffened, and this caught Daryl's attention. "Wha'? Wha's wrong?"

"Talking dog..." You trailed off, your eyebrows furrowing. "Did the dog happen to be a Great Dane? And his owner was this guy in a green shirt and brown pants with messy hair?"

Daryl pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. There were other people, too. Two women and a guy with an ascot."

"Scooby Doo," you stated plainly, giving the archer a playful glare.

"Wha'?" He asked, confusion evident on his face.

"Scooby Doo," you repeated, waving your hand nonchalantly. "That's the cartoon you were talking about. The cartoon you called dumb."

"Yeah, 's 'cus it was. Can't believe anybody actually liked tha' crap."

"Daryl Dixon, how dare you?" You laughed, your eyes widened in surprise. "Scooby Doo is a national treasure! He was part of my childhood and now you're insulting him? I don't think we can be friends anymore."

Daryl chuckled at you, rolling his eyes at your theatrics. "From wha' I saw, the dog and his owner were cowards. Runnin' away, screamin', from fake ghosts after how many years of encounterin' them and knowin' tha' ghosts aren't real but they still think they are? It's stupid as shit, and I ain't apologising for thinkin' tha'."

"You're a disgrace!" You laughed, trying to sound angry but miserably failing. "You're telling me that, real or not, if a ghost was chasing you that you wouldn't run away?"

"Tha's righ'," he nodded, before gesturing to the walkers down at the fence. "I dun' run away from tha' shit, so I sure as hell wouldn't be runnin' away from fake ass ghosts."

"I can't believe you," you said, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "This is the worst betrayal ever. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget this. We won't be able to go back to being friends because of this. This is terrible."

"Stop," he laughed quietly, his eyes twinkling with a rare occurrence of merriment. "It ain't tha' deep. I jus' dun' like it."

"Clearly you don't like it because you have bad taste," you retorted playfully.

"Well, I like ya, so do I still have bad taste?"

Silence. It was so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Any trace of the former reverie between the two of you disappeared and was instead replaced with an invisible current of electricity between you. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden revelation from the man, and your heart sped up in your chest. The logical part of your brain told you that he meant it platonically, that he liked you the way he liked Rick or Glenn, but the optimistic part convinced you that he didn't, that your feelings weren't one-sided. That the archer might like you too.

"Probably," you finally responded, feeling your face ablaze with the heat that spread across it.

"Nah, my taste is immaculate," he replied, looking at you carefully, closely monitoring your reactions. Daryl knew that was a risky response, and he was nervous about your reaction, but he hoped for the best.

You gulped nervously. Daryl's response made your stomach do somersaults and your heart pound at the speed of light.

"Yeah? I still think your taste is shit," you finally managed to respond, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Sometimes you wondered if Daryl knew what effect he had on you. If he knew how many nights dreams of him plagued your mind.

Daryl's chuckle broke the tension between you, and you felt like you could breathe again.

"Whatever ya say." Daryl took the bottle from the middle and took the first swig since the game started. Your eyes drifted to the trickle of whiskey that spilt from the bottle and trickled down his lips and chin, and you had the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss the spill away.

"You don't like Scooby Doo. That automatically means that you have shitty taste," you retorted, your breathing slightly heavier than before.

You leaned forward to take the bottle from him, but he held it out of your reach. You looked at him in confusion but he simply smirked at you, getting up from his position on the ground to stand tall over you.

"Daryl," you warned, laughing as you got up as well. "It's my whiskey. Give it back."

"Nah, I think Imma hold on to it," he said playfully, holding the bottle above his head. He laughed at you when you jumped to try and grab it from his hands.

"Daryl!" You exclaimed with a laugh, trying everything to retrieve the bottle, but to no avail. "Come on, don't be so mean!"

"Ya said I had terrible taste. Well, I like this whiskey, so tha' means it must be terrible as well, since I like it, so ya probably won't like it," he responded playfully, his eyes alight with mischief.

One final jump to grab it proved to be the wrong move. You accidentally slipped when your feet hit the ground, sending you falling onto Daryl. The archer reacted swiftly, dropping the bottle to to catch you with both hands. The bottle shattered on the ground instantly while you and Daryl toppled onto the floor, the force from your fall catching him off guard. Daryl layed flat on his back with you on top of him, his hands still on your waist from when he tried to steady you before you fell.

You looked into Daryl's ocean coloured eyes and felt your heart speed up. Daryl's eyes darted to your lips for a second before going back to your eyes, but you had caught him. In a sudden burst of confidence, you lowered your face and crashed your lips onto his, catching him off guard for the second time that night.

Daryl stiffened for a moment, surprised at the unexpected action from you, but soon relaxed and slowly kissed you back. He brought one of his hands to the back of your head and drew you closer, his lips slowly moving against yours. His other hand hesitantly trailed from your waist to the small of your back, gently moving over the exposed skin from the ride up of your shirt.

The kiss ended too prematurely for your taste, but oxygen was still a necessity. You slowly pulled back, looking into his eyes with surprise and delight. Daryl looked back at you in adoration.

"Wha' was tha' fer?" He whispered breathlessly, his chest heaving slightly.

"Just because," you replied honestly, still baffled at the fact that you had just kissed Daryl, surprised that you had mustered up the courage to do so in a matter of seconds.

"Well, if ya think tha's gonna prove to me tha' my taste is shit, then yer gonna need to try somethin' different. Tha' didn't work. If anythin', it jus' proved to me tha' my taste is amazin'."

You laughed and shook your head. "You talking about me or Scooby Doo?"

Daryl started sitting up, making you slide down his stomach to sit in his lap. "Definitely ya," he responded, wrapping his arms around you.

"So, you like like me, huh, Dixon?" You teased, linking your arms around his neck.

Daryl hummed and gave you a small smirk. "Mhm," he hummed, giving you a soft peck on the lips. "Wish I'd known tha' talkin' shit 'bout some cartoon dog would make this happen. Woulda done it a lot sooner."

"Don't you ever talk shit about that dog in my presence ever again," you warned with a playful glare, eliciting a chuckle from the archer.

"Jus' to be sure, this means somethin', righ'?" He asked, his tone turning serious. A look of doubt spread across his face. "This wasn't jus' a heat of the moment thing for ya?"

You shook your head, bringing one of your hands to cup his cheek. "Did you mean it? That you like me? And I don't mean in a platonic way."

"I did," he confirmed, leaning into your touch.

"That's good," you said with a small, shy smile. "Because I like you too. Even if you have crappy taste."

Daryl's eyes filled with relief and he let out a small laugh before leaning in to kiss you again. The kiss was brief, but it was sweet and tender. When he pulled away, he brought a hand up to push your hair out of your face.

"Never thought this would happen. I thought ya dun' like me like tha'."

You leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "No more of that. I don't plan on letting you go now that I have you, Daryl Dixon. You're stuck with me."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, 'm stuck." With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a feverish kiss. He flipped you over so that you were on your back, making you giggle against his lips.

You were definitely thankful for Scooby Doo and that whiskey bottle right now.

[leafith]

YES, I FINALLY STOLE HOLLAND'S EARRINGS, YESH!!!

I love them SM. I can finally live without forgetting my favorite Spirit... WAHHHHHHHHHHH😭😭😭 CAN'T BELIEVE THE SEASON IS ENDING NOOOOOOOO🤧😭

(read description of the image, please)

[the-name-stealer]

hello!!! Intro time!!!

Hi!!! Call me anything.

I steal names!

If you want your names removed, reblog/send ask/ privately message me! I answer anons so it’s hard to sort through who is okay with it.

Give me your name. Or someone else’s. I’m not picky.

names I’ve stolen: (will tag if they have blogs+who gave it to me if it was someone else)

Noah 1

bugg 2

Oakley :3

Rebekah (from @biggesthuskersimp589)4

Willow (^^)5

Lewis (^^^)6

Olivia(^^^^)7

all of @river-nonbinary-billcipherfan nicknames! 8

Samah! ( @that-0ne-sam)9

Bill Cipher! ( @billcipher-rpblog)10

Maryland! ( @maryland-officially)11

Hawaii! ( @hawaii-official)12

Lep! ( @leprechaun-stealerofgold)13

Squeaky! ( @postalignments)14

James! ( @more-trans-beans) 15

Pyramid Steve! (From @billcipher-rpblog, taken from @i-amsteve)16

Khriz! (From @the-lunacy-system taken from @khrizantema9869)17

Kaitlyn! ( @literal-trans-beans)18

buck! (By @17ghostsinatrenchcoat)19

Alivia! (^^)20

Cataclysm, Nibiru, Roav, 7-3, Ælr, nobaru! ( @planet-of-cataclysm)26

Holden! ( @hadoom) 27

quinn, ruin, yuri, and nikolai! ( @throat0fdelusion)31

penny, Margret, Samantha, Emu, and Warren! ( @pennyroyald)36

silver & milky! ( @official-milky-way)38

anon (anon) 39

PSR J0437-4715 & 1rxs. ( @1rxs-offical) 41

Rian (taken permanently from @river-nonbinary-billcipherfan) 42

neon! ( @neoninglitchen) 43

Katelyn ( @katiewolf) 44

banana, mango, grape, orange, melon, and lemon ( @fruit-tree-system) 50

Monaco ( @officially-monaco)51

peachy ( @importantpeachfury) 52

Colorado ( @colorado-real)53

Oregon ( @oregon-officially)54

North Carolina ( @the-fr-north-carolina-totally)55

Michigan ( @michagan-the-state)56

Violet ( @violetthediamondsblog)57

Vitreous ( @vitreous-official)58

faye! ( @f4y3w00d5)59

Misa! ( @minimuppetmisa)60

nɒʜɈƎ/γnnɒɔƧ ( @₴₵₳₦₦Ɏ₴-฿₳₵₭) 62

Liechtenstein ( @offical-liechtenstein)63

Jalapeño ( @floatingcamel23)64

Logan (permanently taken from @pennyroyald) 65

Rachel Roth ( @half-a-goat)66

Dubois (anon) 67

unknown entity of darkness ( @unknown-entity-tm) 68

Rose/Róża, Minty, Kali, Noodle, & Thing. ( from @blog-of-some-dummies given by @pennyroyald) 73

In-n-out burger ( @in-n-out-burger-official) 74

Diafain (anon) 75

🐍💍 (anon) 76

Tori Simons (anon)77

Felhair de Ziaman ( @pennyroyald) 78

Britain ( @real-british-empire) 79

Carl Fredrick Wilhelm Johannes Maximillian Napoleon Zeus von Neumann the Amazing the Great the Protector of Domestic Tranquillity, ForMemRS. (Anon) 80

Zero ( @z3r0th3h3r0) 81

Tereza (permanently taken from anon) 82

marsh,syll,silk , mallow, mochi, pastel, lucid, Celes, Limetta, maria, Felix, theo, Axel, alex, aqua, nova, aster, caelus, Doku, Aurous, ann, lucas, luca, lucean, jack, phi, ray, peace, alba, chaos, tart, cake, Led, Charlie, Lamba, Xeno! (Anon) 118

Snow ( @sn0w-o) 119

Fiona, Talia, Mable, Boa, Egg, Clise, Pancake, Hypnos, Elysia, Seraphina, Agnes, Marceline, Claire, Noelle, butterscotch, frigg, soup, strawberry, marsia, beate, makoto, sock, bug, Florian, bea, Rosalina, marinella, Finka, nada, Yuri, sky, Olivia, fischl, cinnamon, amity, Ada, Lenora, Aida, Romy, Lys, Eliana, Cherie, océane, Esther, marcille, Astrid, Clara, Lacey, flowers, natsuki, sayori, Petra, Aphrodite, hatsune, crimson, viola, Jenny, juniper, Annie, marie,Tina, kanaya, Callie, Bonnie, Velma, Phoebe, Sabrina, Tori, Natalie, Kim, love, Corey, Courtney, misty, Yasmin, Laika, Tabitha, primrose, Beatrice, circe, johnette, temmie, gumi, himiko, Anne, nessa, Sonia, akane, Diane, Miku, merlin, adagia, miyu, aradia, Illya, azure, maya, Mira, marina, Andromeda, Alya, Stella, celestia, Celeste, nova, Lyra, hope, April, pearl, amber, violet, Kirra, clover, iris, calliope, blossom, Millie, tulip, Bibi, amy, Reyna, ambrosia, page, Leah, Charlie, Lilith, ellsee, maki, edeustus, ellie, Samantha, Amelia, Tiffany, Alyssa, Luna, caoimhe, Judith, Natalie, kumatora, aurelie, Kate, moon, nerisse, serenity, Lara, Sarina, Vanessa, Monica, cherry, Helena, Sophia, tiki, luzia, Laura, Juliette, aurora, corrin, annette, Hilda, madalena, Anna, ivy, Cynthia, byleth, caeda, Alexandrea, chell, Maria, mia, Katie, Veronica, Susie, comet, Jessica, eve, Eva, vivisection, heather, Donna, winona, guinivere, Roxanne, Lillian, Octavia, étolie, Marnie, Gaia, daisy, desura, amnesia, sunny, clementine, bocchi, Cara, Agatha, Evelyn, angèle, Louisa, Camila, roseline, louane, Averie, Melina, Lena, minthe, Emma, acorn, Cassandra, bread, willow, raven, kali, Sappho, harmony, mango, Hellan, Katelyn, aria, Elyse, Marnie, blanche, frasie, Freya, Charlotte, amandine,  Vivian, Sylvia, Sarah, Jane, Ashley, Mongolia, Alice, Sydney, pikachu, Michelle, Gowan, Madeline, Ellen, Marissa, Lana, Lilly, Ella, rose, may, Ramona, melody. ( @bitch-with-some-4000-names) 363

Tera , elfilin , carol, taranza ( @tmhj) 367)

ash ( @i-give-worms) 368

Jayne bishop ( @thegreatgeodo) 369

Josie & Scarlett ( @knight-real) 371

sir A. Goetia. ( @pennyroyald) 372

swiper ( @mronion) 373

grammarly ( @unofficially-grammarly) 374

Walmart ( @walmart-the-official)375

Whataburger ( @whataburger-possibly-official) 376

Vemödalen ( @no-such-thing-as-originality) 377

Sydney (Anon) 378

roselyn (anon) 379

Saioa (anon) 380

hygiea 10 ( @hygiea-official)381

Alex, Allen, Asher, Caelus, Calxe, Dalisay, Ennui, Fae, Joy, Kai, Li, Liit, Loe, Mia, Nemo, Nihil, Noël, Oakley, Pelex, Sasha, Somnus, Tama, Ramasses, Rin, Rowan, Willow, Zephyr, Zora ( @joyliit) 401

Alexandria (taken permanently from ^^)402

James/jamie and Martin/marty ( @throat0fdelusion) 404

Caesar & Charlie ( @caesars-crazed-ramblings) 406

Cosmo or Nyx! ( @spacecatdraws) 408

Africa ( @pennyroyald) 409

choccy milk, shortcake, cakepop, mossy ( @analog-autistic) 413

Michael (anon)414

Sally (anon) 415

blue (anon)416

William Shakespeare (<-never heard of the guy/j) ( @shakespeare-official-account) 417

Haejin Min ( @the-name-gifter) 418

fae ( @the-name-asker) 419

vee ( @urlocaldisaster) 420 (hehe)

Dr. Graves ( @the-gimmick-scp-researcher) 421

Zeus (anon) 422

Copi-Copi, Elemento, Adjetivo, Mente en Blanco, Chaucha, Yo Soy, Calugoso, Duquesa, Reina, Coliforme, Tepo-Tepo, Yo no Fui, Fierro Malo, Palmerita, Neumatex, Cortachurro, Etcétera, Maletín, Duque, Guasón, Jefe, Moneda, Cucky, Pelusa, Tía, Legui, Reality, Chester, Chu, Ro, Playita, Palmera, Señor, Re Frito, Pescado, Chamuyo, Calendario, James Bond, Rata, Cabeza de Chaya, Neumático, Repetido, Añico, Rucia, Gonzo, Chino, Cortéz, Albertito, Also, Cabecita, Bigote and Mutante (anon)

jaiden and blook ( @blookdoeswhatever, @jaidentheautisticwurm) 424

jaya (anon)425

425

6/50 states

Items:

frog

worms x3

an Olive Garden I guess???

(Ooc: ^^the blog persona)

(Ooc: the blog persona (not mod) is pansexual, pangender, and demisexual! They like sewing and stealing names.)

(if you see me put your name on my main no you didn’t

my main is @buggz-owlz)

names that are given to us will be under #name giver

and names we steal will be under #name stealer

all asks will be under #name stealer questions

colors are just random colors we associate with the name given.

that’s all for now! Bye!

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

The St James Family Tree (x)​

( aside from Jeremy and Joy, the entire St James family exists universally throughout all of my glee fics, though they so far only have set appearances in Get It Right, SOWK, By Its Very Definition, and Corner Of The Sky!  More details about everyone below the cut )

shoutout to @the-witching-ash for helping me develop this entire clusterfuck of a family

Tag List: want to be added?

Judith & Joseph St James ( Meryl Streep & Pierce Brosnan ):

The parents of the most unadjusted and emotionally unavailable family in all of Ohio

Jenny St James ( Nicole Kidman ):

Married to Lloyd Kline ( Colin Firth )

Judith & Joseph’s eldest child 

Neglectful mother and trophy wife to a DC politician

Johanna St James ( Kate Reinders ):

Married to Chad Channing ( Chris Pine )

The middle St James child 

Professional absentee parent dreaming of her non-existent Broadway glory days

Former roommates with Shelby Corcoran and Cassie July

Joshua St James ( Zac Efron ):

Sometimes dating Nell Baker ( Anne Hathaway )

The youngest of the St James siblings

Real estate agent in Lima

Jeremy’s guardian, legally as of s2

Part of the long-suffering parent club with Burt, Carol, and Brad

His apartment is well known as being a safe place for glee club members to crash if they’re avoiding being at home and he does have a ranked list of all of the club members

Roman Kline ( Aaron Tveit ):

Jenny & Lloyd’s son / Amelie’s twin

Dalton alum, Cooper Anderson’s high school roommate

Dating Cooper Anderson & Ash Astor ( Anna Kendrick )

Went to law school and is a licensed lawyer but he’s working actor in LA and sometimes New York

( also features in a their-canon-compliant conceptual Cooper & Roman Dalton era fic )

Amelie Kline ( Lily James):

Jenny & Lloyd’s daughter / Roman’s twin

Went to Crawford Country

In an eventual relationship with her high school best friend, Lindsay Wright ( Brittany Snow )

Bartender & manager at Scandals

Living with her Uncle Josh in Lima while she attends university

Jesse St James ( Jonathan Groff ):

Johanna’s son, presumably with Chad sometimes not though and Jeremy and Joy’s older brother

An honorary member of the warbler inner circle since he was 10

Carmel High alum, UCLA dropout, now coaching Vocal Adrenaline

Learning to be a better brother

In an eventual relationship with former rival Lucille Newton ( Anna Camp ) 

Joy Schuester ( Lili Reinhart ):

featured in By Its Very Definition ( and various chaotic crossover concepts )

Jesse’s half sister through their father, April Rhodes’ surprise daughter

Easily adopted into the St James clan by Josh, Amelie, Roman, and Jesse

Full time disaster

The best thing Johanna ever did for Jesse was not have Chad as his father, only so that he could have Joy as a sister

Jeremy St James ( Joshua Bassett ):

featured in Corner Of The Sky ( and various chaotic crossover concepts )

Johanna & Chad’s youngest son and Jesse’s younger brother

An honorary member of the warbler inner circle since he was 5

lives with his Uncle Josh and cousin Amelie

Absolute sunshine despite an overabundance of family trauma

Currently growing a backbone

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Let Your Heart Be Light

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria Era

Warnings: None

Summary: You want to make the holidays something special for Daryl. Throw in a little Christmas magic and it just might mean something more to you too.

*gif is not mine

This run hadn’t been about gathering supplies or intel. This run had been about making a holiday for Judith. The adults understood that just being alive and together were gifts. But little Jude? Smart as she was— and she was smart —hadn’t yet grasped that concept. 

Things had already been gathered for her by everyone else, but Daryl had never really celebrated as a kid. Never gave gifts or received them. Before Alexandria, there was never a reasonable sense of safety that allowed for celebration. This would be a first for the archer. When you asked what he had found or made for the little girl he so obviously adored, he had appeared gutted. Of course, you had offered to go with him and help him find something. 

The sky was thick with purple clouds as you burrowed into Daryl’s back and tilted your face upward just enough to watch the puffs of lavender magic float carelessly across the limitless expanse. The wind was icy but the elements never seemed to bother the hunter. You, on the other hand, were freezing your proverbial balls off. Your heavy jacket, gloves, scarf, and toboggan hat did little against the onslaught. You couldn’t help but wonder how Daryl hadn’t turned into an ice archer. You also weren’t above pondering why the fuck he had insisted on taking the motorcycle!

When the bike rolled to a stop outside a little strip mall, you could hardly wait to jump off. You squealed about your ass being numb and zipped past him and up to the first door. Daryl started to intervene but swiftly shut his mouth when you acted accordingly, tapping the blade of your knife against the window to lure any walkers. 

When none shuffled forward, you gave him a thumbs up. “You start on that side, I’ll go here. Look for coloring books, crayons, stuffed animals. Nothing with small pieces that she could choke on.” You advised, watching him nod blankly. You smiled at his adorable cluelessness and ducked inside, willingly leaving him on his own. Usually you would pester him to stay together but you had your own search to conduct. Judith wasn’t the only one getting a gift this year. 

You did intend to help Daryl as you’d promised, but you had some selfish reasons for coming along as well. You hadn’t heard if anyone else had come up with something for the archer, but you sure as shit would. He was your best friend. Your person. This would be the start of happy memories for the season.

None of you could be sure when Christmas actually was but hell, it didn’t really matter at the end of the world. Decorations had been found here and there, enough to decorate Rick and Michonne’s house. You’d all gather there so it made the most sense. 

The store you had chosen appeared to have once been a pawn shop. Toys were in abundance so you took a moment to grab a babydoll and a stuffed monkey before heading to the display cases. The glass had long ago been broken and weapons all swiped. That wasn’t what you were looking for anyway. You wanted something less—violence oriented. No jewelry either. He wasn’t the type. You would know the perfect gift when you saw it. 

And you did. 

Grabbing it up, you stuffed it and the toys into your rucksack and headed to the next mall space, hoping it held what you needed to go along with the first present. Considering how certain items were treated like gold in those times, you didn’t hold your breath. 

You had to be sneaky or Daryl might catch on, considering the type of store. You watched for him while repeating the process to check for walkers. Met with silence, you ducked inside. Pickings were slim— almost nonexistent—just as you’d expected. You had just allowed yourself to be bummed when you spotted one peeking out from beneath the counter. After a short happy dance, you hid this one in your bag as well.  You grabbed a few newspaper pages to use as wrapping paper and started to open the door when you saw the archer walk by and into the pawn shop you had just vacated. 

Perfect!

Stepping outside, you moved off the walkway and waited for him. He emerged a moment later, looking a little concerned. 

“Thought ya’d still be in there.” He huffed, holding out two coloring books—one of safari animals and the other, Dora the Explorer—and a box of crayons with two missing. 

“Were you worried, mister Dixon?” You smiled sweetly while taking the items to place in your bag. “Hey!” You dissolved into giggles when he pulled the front of your toboggan hat down over your face. He was already walking back toward the back by the time you fixed it. “I found a couple of toys too!”

“Got what we came for.” He swung a leg over to straddle the bike and waited for you to climb on. “Let’s head back. Snow’s comin’.” You grumbled and secured your scarf around the majority of your face. “S’the matter? Don’t like snow?”

“I love snow. Just not on a motorcycle.”  Taking your place behind him, you wrapped your arms around his middle and went ahead with burying your face in his back. You felt more than heard his chuckling. 

Without a way to predict the weather, there was no way of knowing that scattered flurries would soon turn into a complete whiteout. Daryl had pushed the bike as far as he could before the snow on the ground became too dense. You hated watching him leave it behind, but if he was distraught, he didn’t show it. 

You both had your packs, yours full of gifts and Daryl’s stuffed with a little food, a canteen, and scant medical supplies. You’d be okay for a day or two until the weather cleared. You had radioed home while the archer brought the fireplace to life. Your signal was choppy but the message was received. 

A little while later, the snow was surging down outside, making it impossible to see even the trees that were littered around the small cabin the two of you had stumbled upon. Literally. You’d almost walked into the side of it with the limited visibility. 

Your coats were hanging up near the fire to dry. You had a small meal of jerky and an apple. Now the two of you sat quietly, the silence not uncomfortable. You were bummed that you couldn’t make it back for Daryl to give Judith the gifts. More disappointed for him, really. This was supposed to give him good memories. 

Your gaze left the winter wonderland on steroids to shift over where the archer was perched by the fire. He was holding the stuffed monkey while he stared into the flames. Standing from the chair by the frosty window, your bare feet hardly made a sound as you padded across the room to sit cross-legged by his knees. 

“Don’t be sad.” You folded your hands on his thigh and rested your chin on them, looking up at him from under your lashes. 

Those ice blue eyes slid over to you and held your gaze before he looked away with a dismissive pfft, tossing the stuffed animal on top of his rucksack. “Ain’t sad.”

The smile you gave him was soft, sympathetic. “Yeah, you are. But you shouldn’t be. She’ll be just as excited tomorrow as she would have been today.” Your head tilted, smile broadening. “Judith doesn’t care what day you give her a gift. You’re Uncle Daryl. She’ll beam at you like you hung the moon no matter what.”

One corner of his mouth ticked upward. He hummed and ruffled your hair, the other side of his lips mirroring its counterpart. Sitting back, you swatted his hands away with an exaggerated series of waves. 

“We can still make this special.” Teeth worried your bottom lip but you fought to push down the anxiety slithering around in your tummy. When the archer tilted his head, waiting for an explanation, you crawled across the floor and reached into your bag. The newspaper wrapping was sloppy with no tape or bows to make it nice but it was the end of the world. You worked with what you had. Shuffling back to him on your knees, you sat back on your heels and held out the black and white papered mess. “Here.”

His face was unreadable, that scowl firmly in place as he stared at your offering. You would have felt dejected had you not seen the myriad of emotions steadily streaming through those pretty blue eyes. After what felt like hours, Daryl cleared his throat and reached for the wadded mess. 

“Ya didn’t—uh—ya didn’t hafta do nothin’ like this.” It was easy to discern the slight tremor in his hands. 

“Yeah, I did. I wanted to.” You wiggled back and forth, both eager and nervous for him to unwrap it. When he just held it, you stilled. “What’s wrong?”

“I, uh—” The archer carefully lowered the gift to his lap but kept his hands around it, his thumb rubbed back and forth across the newspaper. “Never really had stuff like this growin’ up—presents an’ shit.”

Rubbing your lips together, you placed a hand on his knee, just beside the gift. He didn’t look away from it. “Just open it when you’re ready. I’m in no hurry.” Keeping your hand where it was, you maneuvered into your previous position: cross-legged with your chin on the very edge of his leg. 

He was committing the moment to memory. You could tell by the way he studied the object, tilting it back and forth just so. But this is what you wanted; to break through the past he had suffered with thoughts of a future full of new memories to make. And to share. 

He cleared his throat again. It was then that you noticed the shine of moisture holding steady on his waterline. “I—got ya, uh—I got ya somethin’ too.” He balanced the gift on his lap with one hand and dug around in his pocket before finally pulling out a small, blue drawstring bag. So much hesitance; he started to hand it over before pulling it back. He did that three more times before he allowed you to take it. 

Now, your eyes began to leak. “Oh, Daryl.” You pulled the little bag toward you and pressed it against your chest. Whatever was concealed inside was hard and twisted but you didn’t venture to guess. You wanted complete surprise. 

His eyes flitted between your gift and his. Still, he made no move to open his own. The present you’d given him was quite a bit larger. Maybe he was worried that that somehow bothered you. When he finally looked up at you, your heart clenched. He was adorably lost. 

“Open it?” You suggested gently, lowering your hands to your lap with the small bag visible in your cupped palms. He was chewing on the inside of his bottom lip for several seconds before he slowly began to unfold the paper. You watched with bated breath as the items were revealed, studying his demeanor as discreetly as possible. If he didn’t like it, you wanted to know for next year. 

Next year. A bittersweet thought. How many of you would even still be there to see it? You minutely shook away the distressing notion and just in time, too. 

The corners of his mouth slowly lifted into the smallest yet most genuine smile you’d ever seen him wear. A calloused finger traced over the image of a motorcycle on the shiny Zippo. There was a carton of cigarettes and a small container of lighter fluid as well but the lighter had his complete attention. 

“Now look, mister. I don’t condone your habit but I figure we all need our guilty pleasures now more than—”

“Thank you.” So soft that you barely heard it. 

You melted in an instant into a gentle smile that he didn’t see, hiding behind a fringe of dark hair. “You’re welcome.” You waited him out. He was having a hard time with the entire concept and you may have heard a quiet sniffle but no, you didn’t. 

“Ya gonna,” he cleared his throat and sniffed, “ya gonna open yours?” You looked down at the bag, seeing him wipe his face on the back of his hand from the corner of your eye. You’d never tell him, though. You’d let him keep that one. 

You were careful with your expression, keeping the excited gleam in your eye as you pulled the top of the bag open. It could be an acorn and you’d adore it because it was Daryl who went through the trouble of finding such a pretty little bag for it. Just for you. 

You dipped two fingers inside, curling them around cold metal, prodding your curiosity. What you began to pull out was a thin, braided chain. It was still a shiny silver. You weren’t even sure what it was made from and it didn’t matter. It would remain around your neck even if your skin turned green. Still, once the entire thing was revealed, it wasn’t the chain that held your focus. 

Your inquisitive gaze lifted to find his cheeks a shade of pink and one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“S’a—well, s’a hex nut.” Your head tilted. “From my bike.”

You stared at him in complete awe, knowing that when he finally looked at you, he was going to panic but you’d settle him once you worked through your own emotions. You carefully placed the chain over the edge of your hand so the nut laid in your palm. It was small with small knicks and dark areas, indicating use. You were so enthralled with it that you didn’t feel the tear escaping down your cheek. 

“Know s’stupid but—” 

His arms shot out to the side when you collided with him, your arms tight around his shoulders and face against his neck. Once the initial surprise had worn off, he wrapped one arm around you and then the other, his cheek against the top of your head. 

“Thank you.” You whispered. “This is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.” When he huffed out a laugh, you sat back and wiped at your face with the tips of your fingers, the necklace he’d made for you still dangling from your hand. “Don’t say a word. I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass. It’s really the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever been given.” Your hand traveled out to rest against his cheek. “And I love it. Will you put it on me?” 

“Um, okay.” 

You beamed at him and held out the chain, spinning around and gathering your hair out of the way. Daryl was hesitant, you could just picture him trying to work through how to get it around your neck without invading your space. You knew it was impossible but you’d let him figure that out on his own. 

Finally you felt him reach over your right shoulder, then your left, to part the two ends and pull them back to fasten against the back of your neck. Your breath hitched when his fingertips lingered against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. 

“There ya go.” 

Your skin felt colder when he pulled away but you didn’t linger on it. You turned to face him, holding the piece out so you could look down at it with a brilliant smile. 

“Thank you.” You said again, twisting the gift back and forth. 

“You’re welcome.” He mumbled. 

Shimmying closer, you laid your head against his leg and looked at the fire, fingertips still brushing against the cool metal hanging from your neck. Above you, he was flipping the lid of the Zippo open and closing it repeatedly, as if it was the first one he’d ever seen. You were admittedly surprised he hadn’t already lit up at least three cigarettes.

“You did replace the nut you took from the bike, right?” You erupted into giggles when he bounced his leg and jostled your head.

It was almost comical to you that Daryl was this tough badass but so shy when it came to even someone as close as you were to him. It was incredibly endearing. Tilting your head back, you smiled up at him. He responded by placing his hand over the entirety of your face, his expression remaining neutral. You still saw the twinkle in his eye when you freed yourself. 

Then your smile disappeared, replaced with a sudden look of bewilderment. The archer noticed immediately, brow drawing in concern. 

“What?”

You weren’t looking at him though. You were looking past him, at the ceiling. Slowly you sat up straight, tilting your head while holding your gaze steady. Daryl finally followed your line of sight to the area above your heads. 

There, hanging from the wooden rafters, was a branch of what appeared to be fresh mistletoe. A red bow was tied prettily around the stem. 

“Is that—” You began. 

“—mistletoe.” Daryl finished. 

Both your heads lowered, your eyes meeting. You could tell from the way he looked at you that he wasn’t ignorant of the tradition. Your own cheeks had grown warm just as you watched the subtle flush settle over his. 

You should have been questioning the presence of the plant. How it got there. Why it looked new in an otherwise desolate, dusty cabin. 

But those inquiries paled in comparison to the way Daryl’s eyes flitted down to your lips and back up. 

“Be a shame to go against tradition.” You reasoned. 

“You’re the expert.” He gave a single-shouldered shrug. 

With a soft breath past your lips, you sat up on your knees, inching a little closer. Daryl moved toward the edge of the chair, leaning down slightly. You were so close that you could feel his breath against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Daryl.”

A beat. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

When your lips met, nothing else mattered. 

Not the snow that now fell in gentle flurries. 

Not the motorcycle that now leaned against the wall just outside. 

And certainly not the bare rafters above your heads where nothing was hanging.  

[hamsterclaw]

Fugitive

You're kidnapped by a desperate man and you can't see a way that this is going to end well, for either of you.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Word count: 10k

Genre: Escaped criminal, convict Yoongi

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mentions of a gun, threat of gun violence

Author note: This story is based on the romance novel Perfect by Judith McNaught. I've taken a few liberties with the plot and characters.

The coffee at this mountainside diner is good, warming your belly as you frown at the snow outside. 

All the weather reports say there’s a storm coming from the east, but it doesn’t take a trooper to know that. 

Even a city girl like you can see how the sky’s darkening, how the wind’s relentless, how the temperature is rapidly dropping.

You’ve got snow tires on, four wheel drive, emergency supplies in your trunk, but you think you won’t need them, you’re heading west and you’ve made good time on your way to visit your sister and her newborn.

Like your dad used to say, your family’s full of grit. 

You swallow your smile when you see the man standing just outside the diner looking straight at you.

Did he think you were smiling at him?

You look down hastily.

The waitress comes round with the check you signalled for, you put money on the little acrylic tray and get ready to go.

By the time you step outside, the wind’s picked up even more, snow swirling, making your eyes want to screw shut under your beanie.

You don’t hear him until he’s almost on top of you.

He’s not a lot taller than you, and he’s not particularly dressed for the weather, in denim on denim, a parka. No hat or gloves.

His hair is dark, as are his eyes, and his skin is pale, like he doesn’t get a lot of sun.

He looks vaguely familiar but you can’t really place him.

‘You have a flat,’ he says, pointing to one of your front tyres.

You look down in dismay only to see that he’s right.

Shit!

‘I can help you change it, if you’ve got a spare,’ he offers.

‘Would you?’ you ask, grateful.

‘Yeah, not a problem.’

You show him where the spare and tools are, and as he crouches by the tyre, you’re very aware of how, unlike you, he doesn’t have gloves on. 

You feel a surge of guilt.

‘Hey,’ you offer, ‘whilst you’re doing that, can I get you a hot drink or something?’

He looks up at you, hands braced on the flat.

‘I wouldn’t mind a coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Of course,’ you say, relieved that he’s not too polite to take you up on your offer. ‘I’ll be right back.’

You hurry back into the diner to get him a coffee. As you wait you wonder if he might want a sandwich too, and impulsively, you order him a hot sandwich.

He can always say no if he doesn’t want it, you reason.

By the time you come out, he’s putting the flat in your trunk, tidying up the tools he used.

‘Thank you,’ you tell him, passing him the drink.

‘No problem,’ he says.

A little awkwardly, you hold out the wrapped sandwich. ‘I got you a sandwich too, if you want it. It’s turkey.’

He accepts with another murmured ‘thank you.’

You’re wondering if you should offer him money for his kindness when he says, hesitant, ‘I could use a lift, if you’re heading west. I’ve got a job interview I’m hoping to make it to.’

Now you’re the hesitant one. He’s shown you nothing but kindness, but he is still a total stranger.

He waits without looking at you, sipping his coffee, keeping his distance.

You think about his lack of warm clothes, and as you’re looking at him, you notice the crispness of the creases in his clothing, remnants of how they must have been folded when he bought them.

You think about his calloused palms and how he accepted the sandwich without hesitation.

‘Hey, it’s ok,’ he starts to say, and it’s that, more than anything else, that spurs you on to reply.

‘It’s fine,’ you say. ‘I’ll take you as far as I’m heading.’

***

He gets into the passenger seat, and from the sigh that passes his lips you realise that he really was as cold as you thought he might be.

You start the engine, and warm air starts to blow through your A/C vents.

You check that the GPS is still set and glance over at him. 

‘You ready?’

You’re a mile or so out of the diner, listening to the radio, when it occurs to you to ask him his name.

‘I’m Y/N,’ you say. 

‘Yoongi,’ comes the reply.

In here, away from the whistling wind, you can hear the gravel in his voice.

‘What job are you going for?’ you ask.

‘Just some construction job my friend’s lined up for me near Maisan,’ Yoongi says.

He glances in the rearview mirror. 

‘I hope you get it,’ you tell him. ‘Do you live around there?’

He seems to hesitate.

‘I don’t mean to pry,’ you say, quickly. 

To bridge the sudden silence, you say, ‘I’m going to see my sister and her new baby. She chose a good time to have him, right before a storm.’

You notice movement up ahead, a police roadblock.

Beside you, your new acquaintance sits up. 

‘Nice and easy,’ he says, and you look at him, confused, until you notice that he has a gun in his hand.

Pointed right at you.

You straighten up so quickly your neck cracks.

‘What —-‘

‘Nice and easy,’ Yoongi says again, a hardness to his voice you haven’t heard up until now. 

‘There are six shots in this gun, but I’ll only need one to hurt you,’ he continues.

Your hands tighten on the wheel, and your lips clamp together, trying to stifle the squeak of terror that threatens to slip out.

‘I just want you to know that I will hurt you if you try anything,’ Yoongi says. There’s a seriousness in his voice that makes your blood chill. ‘So nice and easy, get us past this roadblock.’

You’ve slowed automatically as you approach the uniformed policemen, your years of driving making your body do the expected things despite the way your head is reeling.

Yoongi has a gun, and he seems perfectly capable of using it on you.

The fear crystallises into a single sob before your throat closes completely. Your breathing quickens but you know you’ll need to look normal, unsuspicious, to get you and Yoongi past the police.

‘Are they looking for you?’ you ask. Your voice is shuddery, you’re trembling so hard.

In response, Yoongi jams the barrel of the gun against you, high up, against your ribs, so hard it’s like he’s impaled you.

‘Shut up and get us through this,’ he snarls.

Your lips snap together again, and you make a conscious effort to pull yourself together.

Just before you stop, Yoongi says, ‘If you try anything, I won’t just be trying to hurt you. I’ll kill you.’

His tone is low, and another shiver runs through you.

You roll down the window.

The police trooper leans in. ‘Where are you headed?’

‘We’re going to see my sister in Maisan,’ you say, grateful at least, that your voice is steady.

Beside you, Yoongi’s sitting perfectly still.

‘You’ve not picked a good time to go,’ says the trooper.

This time, it’s Yoongi who answers. ‘I did say we should wait, but my girlfriend’s been looking forward to seeing her new nephew.’

He shrugs, a picture of indulgent exasperation.

The trooper laughs along with Yoongi even as you try to make desperate eye contact with him.

‘Better carry on then, hopefully you’ll make it before the storm hits.’

Then he’s waving you off, and you have a split second of panic, a moment where you consider screaming, before Yoongi’s gun jabs into your ribs again.

Again, your body responds before you do, driving you away from your last chance to seek help.

***

Twenty miles out from the diner, Yoongi tosses your phone out of the window.

Forty miles out, he programs a different address into your GPS.

It’s another ten miles before you find your voice again.

‘You can take the car, you know, and leave me here. I can’t call anyone.’

Yoongi almost looks like he’s considering it. 

‘I can’t leave you here out in the mountains in the middle of nowhere,’ he tells you. ‘You’ll die of exposure, especially if you can’t call for help.’

‘Also,’ he adds, almost as if it’s an afterthought, ‘you know the address of where we’re going.’

‘I didn’t see it,’ you say, too quickly.

Yoongi’s silent.

Finally, he says, ‘Just keep driving.’

‘Please,’ you plead. ‘Just let me go. I won’t tell the police where you’re heading.’

Yoongi’s grasp on the gun, still in his lap, tightens.

‘You’re a fucking idiot. Why the hell would you give a ride to a strange man you’ve just met?’

You don’t have a good answer to that.

‘You changed my tyre,’ you say. ‘I thought —‘

‘I slashed your tyre,’ he says, low, cold. ‘I was hanging around outside the diner, I saw you pull up, saw you were alone.’

His admission chills you.

Tears start to spill down your cheeks when you realise what a fool you were to trust him.

‘I just wanted to help you out,’ you tell him. ‘You seemed hungry and down on your luck, and you didn’t even have any warm c-c-clothes!’

You swipe at your cheeks furiously.

‘Didn’t have any warm clothes,’ Yoongi repeats, incredulous, scornful. ‘You’re some fucking good Samaritan.’

You’re crying quietly now, despairing over your naivety.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything for a good long while, and neither do you.

***

By the time you reach your destination, it’s snowing so hard you can barely see six feet in front of your car. 

Snowy walls close in either side of you, buffeting you from the wind but heightening your sense of claustrophobia. 

The clearing’s upon you before you quite realise it, and you end up stopping in front of a huge structure in the woods. 

It’s more than a cabin, it looks like a proper house, from what you can make out, with a shed and a carport. 

Yoongi reaches out and takes your car keys. 

‘Wait until I come round to your side.’ 

He doesn’t point the gun at you, but you don’t need reminding. 

He gets out, walks around to your side, pulls open the door, pushes you in front of him.

You try to take note of your surroundings, landmarks, but all you can see is snow.

Your boots clomp on the concrete as you approach the front door.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi rustling, glancing at his phone before he punches numbers into the keypad discreetly placed by the door. 

He cups a hand over the keypad, you don’t see a thing.

He pulls you in as he enters, and you’re initially just grateful to be out of the snow. 

Yoongi says, ‘Take your coat off.’ 

He makes a move as if to do it for you when you don’t react quickly enough, and you snap into action, pulling the snaps apart, unzipping hastily. 

He takes your coat, tosses it carelessly to one side, grasps your wrist, tight. 

You flinch as he tightens a cable tie around your wrist and attaches you to the steel flap of a radiator by the entrance hall of the house. 

‘I can’t trust you not to try to run,’ he tells you. ‘I won’t hurt you, but I can’t afford for you to interfere with my plans, not now.’ 

You’re barely listening at this point. 

The terror of the last few hours has drained most of your energy. 

Yoongi stands over you for a few moments, as if to make sure you aren’t going to bolt, and then he heads further into the house. 

***

Time passes, you’re disorientated by the darkness brought on by the storm outside and your own sense of disjointedness. 

It doesn’t seem like that long ago since you loaded your things into your trunk and set off from home, and yet, it seems like forever. 

Gradually, you become aware of the hardwood floor under your salopes. The entry hall you’re being held captive in gives you the impression that this is a nice house. 

Whoever had this built has money. 

The ceilings are high, the wood panelling rich and beautifully rendered.

The radiator beside you has started heating up, the steel flaps burning you whenever you let your hand move too close. 

Your snow boots have made puddles on the hardwood. 

Where the hell are you? Who owns this place? Why did Yoongi have the code for the door? 

If he has friends this rich willing to let him use their house why the hell did he need you to drive him? 

Your mind swirling with thoughts you can’t reconcile, you pull your knees into your chest and tuck your chin in, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

You fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. 

***

You wake to complete darkness and a searing pain in your hand where you’ve let it fall against the radiator. 

It all comes back to you in a flash. 

The diner. The state trooper. The house. Yoongi. 

Your hand hurts, badly, but it’s too dark to see. 

As you straighten your legs, your foot hits something that falls with a soft thud, then rolls. 

A water bottle. 

You’re suddenly aware of how dry your throat is. 

You reach for the bottle, but maddeningly, it rolls out of your reach. 

There are tears on your face but you’re not crying, not really. 

Maybe you are. 

***

When you next wake, the cold thin grey light filtering in through the windows tells you it’s morning, or early. 

You look up to see your captor standing over you. 

You look at each other wordlessly. 

Yoongi crouches next to you. 

‘Do you need the bathroom?’ he asks. 

You nod. 

He reaches down to detach you from the radiator. 

Your hand. 

You can see it clearly now, the blistered, reddened side of your palm, the thin line of blood where the cable tie’s cut into your wrist. 

You say nothing. You don’t know if you can form any words. 

You get up carefully, follow Yoongi down the hall to a small bathroom. 

‘I’ll give you five minutes,’ Yoongi says. 

You take care of business, trying not to sob at the pain in your burnt hand and wrist. 

The window to the bathroom doesn’t open, and there’s nothing that you can use to break it. 

There’s a knock at the door, you feel a surge of hysterical laughter threatening to come out. 

He’s kidnapped you, locked you to a radiator, and he’s knocking because he cares about your privacy? 

The door opens, and Yoongi comes in. 

You stare at the scissors in his hand. 

‘Your wrist,’ he says. 

You watch, detached, as he cuts the cable tie. It falls to the floor, and you instinctively raise your hand to your chest to rub at your wrist. 

Yoongi says. ‘I have food for you.’ 

He takes you down another hallway, to a huge kitchen full of windows. The early morning sun filters in, bright and blinding, adding more of a sense of unreality to the situation you now find yourself in. 

Yoongi gestures to a seat at the kitchen island, sets a plate in front of you, like he’s made you breakfast. 

You stare in disbelief at the food. 

‘The car’s coming for me in two days, I’ll let you go then,’ Yoongi tells you, like you’re making plans together. 

Like you’re just two people who know each other, discussing plans over breakfast, instead of captor and captive. 

Now you’re staring at him. 

‘You’ll let me go?’ you ask. Your voice comes out in a rasp, you have a vague recollection of trying to drink water but being unable to reach. 

Yoongi winces a little, pours out a glass of water that you gulp down. 

‘You should have told me you wanted water,’ he says. 

‘You took my phone so I couldn’t text you,’ you say, the snark coming out of your mouth surprising you. 

His brow lifts. ‘You don’t have my number anyway.’ 

‘Don’t need it,’ you snap, gulping down your refill. ‘We’re not going on a second date.’ 

Now it’s his turn to stare at you. 

‘You’re not my type anyway,’ he snaps back. ‘Eat your food.’ 

For a moment you contemplate going on a hunger strike but you suspect he wouldn’t give a shit anyway so you examine your plate. 

You fork up some eggs and chew cautiously. 

They’re good. Better than you expected. Your stomach growls as you eat. 

The food’s doing wonders for your energy levels. 

‘Why are you running from the police?’ you ask. ‘What did you do?’ 

‘I was convicted of murder,’ he tells you, cold. 

‘Did you do it?’ you ask, unimpressed. 

‘I didn’t, as a matter of fact,’ he replies, flat. 

‘Wait. Were you in prison?’ 

‘I escaped,’ he tells you. ‘With a little help from my friends.’ 

You mull this over as you finish the last of your eggs. 

‘You have friends?’ 

Yoongi gives you a look that makes your chest tighten a little. 

‘Hard to believe, isn’t it?’ he agrees. 

He takes your plate, gathers up your cutlery, turns his back to put them in the sink. 

‘Don’t even think about throwing your glass at me,’ he says, back still to you. 

Your hand stills on the counter. 

You change the subject. 

‘This is a nice house. Do your friends know they’re harbouring a fugitive from the law?’ 

‘My friends have nothing to do with anything,’ Yoongi tells you, giving you a hard look. 

He sets out a bandage and some ointment on the kitchen island in front of you. 

‘Your hand,’ he prompts impatiently, when you don’t make a move to take them. 

You’re about to reach for them when he sighs, unscrews the top of the tube, drops a dollop on your burnt palm. 

You stifle a hiss of pain as he rubs the ointment in. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Yoongi says quietly. 

He’s close to you now, so close you catch a whiff of the freshness of his shampoo. 

‘You should be sorry,’ you say. ‘I thought you were just some guy who was down on his luck who needed a break, and next thing you’re waving a gun in my face and threatening to kill me.’ 

You can feel the tears threatening to rise again, but you blink them back. 

Yoongi’s touch is gentle on your sore hand. 

‘I am sorry. Believe me, if there were any other way I would have taken it. I promise, I’ll let you go. I have no intention of hurting you.’ 

He says the words with conviction but you know you can’t believe anything he says. 

Trusting him is what got you into this in the first place. 

You let him bandage your hand. 

‘Which radiator next?’ you ask, resigned. 

‘I won’t tie you up again, but I’ll have to keep an eye on you,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘There’s a den we can sit in, if you want.’ 

You don’t see that you have any better options. 

***

You start off in the furthest corner of the den from him, back to the wall, wary. 

Yoongi ignores you completely as he turns on the TV, scrolls to the news.

You glance over the books on the bookshelf along one wall, but the TV catches your attention.

‘The search continues for Min Yoongi, the disgraced former rapper who was convicted of the murder of Han Jisung three years ago.’

Your gaze snaps to Yoongi, but he’s not looking at you, attention fully on the screen as an old media clip of him rapping plays.

‘The federal police are looking into several leads, and members of the public can contact the number onscreen if they have any information as to his whereabouts.’

The next story flashes up, and Yoongi sits back. You can see the tension leaving his body.

He catches the way you’re still gaping at him.

You blink, clear your throat. 

‘So, you used to rap?’

Yoongi’s expression morphs into one of incredulity. ‘That’s your take-home from all that?’ 

You try again. ‘Too bad I don’t have my phone to call the number. Do you think there’s a reward?’

Yoongi stares at you.

‘I didn’t kill Han Jisung,’ he says. 

He refuses to be drawn into any further discussion about it, and finally, you give up and pick up one of the books from the shelf.

***

Lunch is a sombre affair, sandwiches that you eat mechanically while looking at the grey outside.

The storm’s upon you, you doubt your snow tires would be up to the challenge even if you could get your car keys off Yoongi.

There’s no visibility at all, and if the wall of ice that’s forming around the glass of the floor to ceiling windows of the house wasn’t enough to deter you, the fact that you have no idea where your parka is certainly helps put you off.

You grew up in a mountainous area like this, and you’ve got a healthy respect for the weather conditions when it's like this.

You wonder how your sister’s doing, and your new nephew, if they’ve noticed you’re missing yet.

Maybe they think you’ve stopped to seek shelter and are waiting for the storm to pass before you continue on your journey.

You wonder if they’ve put your lack of communication down to a signal failure.

You wonder if anyone will notice you’re missing.

Your thoughts drift to Seokjin, the man you’ve recently had a few dates with. 

He’s a good looking guy, outmatching you in looks if you’re being honest about what you think, but he seems to like the way you look, and to enjoy spending time with you.

You realise that Yoongi’s talking to you.

‘Are you all right?’ he asks, nodding to your half eaten sandwich.

‘I’m fine,’ you answer. You pull a face. ‘Well apart from being held captive against my will.’

Yoongi looks like he’s resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

‘Were you really going to see your sister?’ he asks. ‘Will she notice you’re missing?’

You eye him narrowly. ‘I don’t think anyone’s sending out a search party for me just yet, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Yoongi says, unexpectedly, ‘Why not? You’re pretty, you’d catch attention on the front page of the newspapers.’

You say, incredulously, ‘I bet dozens of women go missing every single day.’

‘They probably do,’ Yoongi agrees. 

‘How did you get put in prison if you didn’t kill that guy?’ you ask, changing the subject. ‘I’m sure you could afford a good legal team.’

Yoongi takes a while to answer. 

‘I was fucking Han Jisung’s fiancee.’

You raise a sceptical brow at him. ‘And?’

‘I think his half-brother set me up.’

You mull this over.

‘So what’s the plan? You escape from prison and leave the country?’

Yoongi shrugs, but his gaze is hard. 

‘I stay on the run until I get enough evidence for a re-trial. Prove my innocence.’

‘Seems a long shot,’ you say, but you have no desire to piss him off, at least not while he’s got a gun in his possession.

‘I have influential friends who are willing to help,’ Yoongi says, simply.

You say nothing.

‘Do you know what it’s like to be put away for life for something you didn’t do?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly. ‘I’ve lost three years of my life to this, there’s no chance of parole for another 7 years.’

His voice rings with anger and frustration.

‘I’m sorry,’ you say. 

You have no idea if he’s telling you the truth, but you’re convinced of one thing. He believes it. 

If he’s telling the truth, you can’t think of anything more awful.

‘Some say I brought this on myself,’ Yoongi says. 

He shakes his head. ‘I don’t blame them. I was an asshole and a womaniser.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ you retort.

Yoongi looks at you, momentarily speechless with surprise.

Then he laughs. 

‘Has no one ever taught you not to make fun of a man with a gun?’

You look at him seriously. ‘You promised you’d let me go in two days. Was that a lie?’

‘No,’ he answers. His eyes meet yours, gaze steady and unwavering. ‘I’ll keep my word.’

With him looking at you like this, you almost believe him.

***

Night’s falling, or so you think, it’s been dark all day but you get the sense that daylight’s fading fast.

Yoongi gets up, says, ‘Come on, I’m going to bed.’

‘You want a bedtime story?’ you ask, tetchy.

He just waits patiently by the entrance of the den for you to join him.

‘Any chance I could take a shower?’ you ask.

You’ve been in the same clothes for a day and a half, and you feel pretty grimy.

‘Sure,’ Yoongi says, surprising you. ‘Need clothes?’

Yoongi takes you to what looks like a pretty impressive master bedroom, with an equally luxurious looking bathroom.

He rummages in a drawer, hands you a set of grey sweats.

He says, the faintest note of embarrassment in his voice, ‘There’s no women’s clothes here.’

You accept the clothes with a murmured ‘thanks.’

Yoongi says, ‘the door doesn’t lock, but I won’t walk in on you. The window’s too high to jump from.’

You eye him.

‘I have no interest in walking through this snowstorm without a coat.’ 

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Unless you want to give me the car keys?’

Yoongi chooses not to answer, steps back so you can close the bathroom door.

You get undressed quickly, step under a shower of water so hot it feels like heaven after you’ve been cold most of the day.

There’s toiletries that you avail yourself of, and by the time you get redressed, you feel practically human again, burnt hand and sore wrist notwithstanding.

You wrap a towel around your hair, step out to see Yoongi sitting on an armchair by the bed.

His gaze flicks over you once, his expression unreadable.

‘I don’t want to tie you to another radiator,’ he says.

You wait to hear where he’s going with this.

‘I’m going to lock the bedroom door. You can share the bed with me, or there’s that couch.’

‘I’ll take the couch,’ you say. 

You get onto the couch, pull a blanket over your head, and you must be more tired that you thought, because you’re thinking of everything Yoongi’s told you, and then you’re not thinking of anything at all.

***

You wake in complete darkness, quiet save for your own breathing.

As your eyes adjust, you realise that the lump near the window is Yoongi. 

He’s looking out, facing away from you.

‘What time is it?’ you ask.

Yoongi inhales, keeps looking out.

‘Sometime after midnight,’ he says. ‘Does it matter?’

You sit up, curl your legs under you.

His profile is strangely lovely, the slope of his brow, the high bridge of his nose, his jaw.

‘What are you going to do if you manage to prove your innocence?’ you ask.

It’s a clumsy question, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind.

‘I’d like to live near a beach,’ he says. ‘Make music. Be away from people for a bit.’

You guess there’s not a whole lot of privacy in prison.

‘I have a beach hut,’ you say. ‘We used to spend summers at the seaside. When my parents died, my sister and I inherited it.’

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi asks, turning towards you.

‘Yeah. We swam a lot. Explored caves. Did some rockpooling.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Yoongi says. ‘When I was a kid I spent summers trying to earn money.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I did a lot of gigs, trying to get exposure. I had my own crew though.’ He sounds wistful. ‘We busted our asses.’

He laughs. ‘When I signed my first record deal I got a house so my crew would always have a roof over their heads.’

‘No diamond encrusted chains?’ you tease.

‘Baby, that was after I got my first platinum record,’ he shoots back.

You laugh, and after a moment, he does too.

‘You got a job?’ 

You look up at the ceiling.

‘I teach,’ you tell him. ‘Grade school. I’ve got a class of seven year olds.’

‘You do have that whole teacher vibe,’ Yoongi remarks.

You’re amused.

‘What whole teacher vibe?’

‘You know. Responsible, prepared for everything. I mean, I saw the supplies in your trunk.’

You can’t argue.

‘You’re too soft,’ Yoongi continues. He’s still turned towards you. ‘You shouldn’t have offered me a ride.’

‘Like I said,’ you reply. ‘You looked like you needed help.’

He scoffs. ‘If I were your man I’d teach you to make any man regret even thinking about messing with you.’

‘I don’t need a man to teach me that,’ you say. 

Yoongi shrugs, a rustle of his sweatshirt. 

‘All I’m saying is you should work on looking less sweet and harmless.’

You toss a couch cushion in his direction.

‘I’ll show you how to crush a trachea tomorrow if you want,’ Yoongi volunteers.

‘Can I practise on you?’ you mutter, disgruntled. 

Yoongi just laughs. 

He turns back to the window. 

It’s too dark to tell if the snow’s still falling but it doesn’t make a difference to you, because soon enough, you’re asleep again.

***

Yoongi’s quiet today, prepping breakfast with a distracted concentration that makes you wonder what’s on his mind. 

You’re fixing coffee, looking for filters. 

You pull open a drawer and freeze. 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see the way Yoongi’s back stiffens. 

There’s a revolver in the drawer. The same gun Yoongi used on you that first day. 

Yoongi turns around slowly, and your eyes lock. 

He’s too far away to have any chance of getting to it before you. 

Yoongi tilts his head. 

‘It’s fully loaded,’ he says. ‘You cock the trigger to arm it. Point and shoot. It’s reliable. It doesn’t jam.’ 

You blink at him. 

‘The car keys are in my pocket. The snow’s still a little crazy but if you wait a few hours it might settle. It’s safer to go tomorrow.’ 

Thoughts swirl in your head, too much for you to process. 

Finally, you reach out, and close the drawer wordlessly. 

‘You’ll let me go tomorrow?’ you ask, wondering if you’ve just made the most stupid decision of your life. 

‘I’ll let you go tomorrow, I promise you. Even if my friend doesn’t come through.’ 

You can’t look at him. 

You can hear him approaching, but instead of heading for the drawer, he heads for you. 

‘Thank you,’ he says. 

You look over. 

His eyes are serious. ‘It’s been a while since anyone who didn’t know me before trusted me.’ 

‘Like you said, I’m dumb and soft,’ you reply. There’s a wobble in your voice that belies the snarky tone you were going for. 

His hand lands on your shoulder. It’s gentle. 

‘You’d be eaten alive where I come from,’ he agrees, when you look his way again. ‘But that’s never going to happen, if I have anything to do with it.’ 

He squeezes your shoulder, reassuring. ‘Forget the coffee. I’ll make it. Go and eat.’ 

***

The unfamiliar sound from overhead is making the wineglasses rattle. 

You glance at Yoongi. 

He’s quicker than you, mouth set in a straight line, heading for the window in the lounge. 

‘What is it?’ you ask, but a moment later, you know. 

It’s a chopper, flying directly overhead. 

Yoongi turns to you. 

‘If that’s the police, stay inside, hands up, away from the windows whilst I turn myself in.’ 

You’re staring at him, again feeling like you’re three steps behind. 

‘It’s the way that it’s safest for you,’ he says, patient. ‘They’ll want you to come in for questioning once they take me in. Just tell the truth, don’t try to hide anything.’ 

Your throat feels like it’s filled with cotton, your heart’s pounding in your ears. 

‘They won’t hurt you, will they?’ 

‘There are other ways to hurt a man than shooting him on sight,’ Yoongi replies. The bitterness is back in his voice again. 

There’s a truth to his words you can’t deny. 

Overhead, the noise intensifies, until finally, it starts fading away. 

You don’t know if it’s just wishful thinking at first, but eventually it becomes clear that the chopper’s becoming more distant. 

Yoongi hasn’t moved from his spot by the window. 

‘They’re not here for you,’ you say, unnecessary, but the silence is so loaded you have to fill it with something, anything. 

‘Not this time,’ Yoongi agrees. 

***

Around mid-day, Yoongi switches on the news in the den. 

You don’t have to wait long for an update. 

‘The search for convicted murderer Min Yoongi intensifies. CCTV footage from a mountainside diner near east of Maisan suggests that he was aided in his journey by an unidentified female driving a 2004 Grand Cherokee Jeep.’ 

You watch, your heart in your stomach as grainy footage of Yoongi getting into your car is played. 

The clip is less than 10 seconds, and your face is barely visible, but it’s definitely you. 

The same information about how to get in touch with the police flashes up, but you’re beyond listening. 

You get up shakily, rush to the bathroom, and throw up the partially digested remains of your breakfast. 

By the time you emerge from the bathroom, Yoongi’s waiting outside. 

‘Are you ok?’ he asks. He’s holding out a glass of water that you accept automatically. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. You take a big gulp, swipe at your face. ‘Am I in trouble, Yoongi?’ 

‘You’ll have to make a statement when you get to your sister’s,’ Yoongi tells you. ‘Tell them I forced you at gunpoint.’ 

You think of the gun you had the opportunity to take this morning. 

‘I offered you a ride voluntarily,’ you say. 

‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Yoongi says, harshly. He steps forward. ‘And they won’t give a fuck, either. This won’t affect me, I’m already a convicted murderer. But it’ll affect you if they think you helped me.’ 

He slams his open hand against the wall next to him, startling you. 

‘You need to wise up. I don’t care if you throw me under the bus, and it won’t make a difference to the charges against me. But this could affect your future, so you need to do whatever it takes to make sure you come away clean from this.’ 

What he’s saying makes sense, but he doesn’t know you. 

‘I promised them,’ you burst out. 

Yoongi stops dead. ‘What?’ 

‘I was adopted, when I was eight,’ you say. The words are coming out in a rush now, garbled, and you’re not sure if you can make him understand but you need to say it all. 

‘I promised my adoptive parents I’d never lie again. I was some dumb kid when they adopted me, I’d been in and out of foster homes. I’d developed a thing for taking things I wanted.’ 

Stealing, your inner voice says, accurately. 

‘And when my parents adopted me, I promised them I’d never lie again.’ 

Yoongi’s staring at you now, incredulous. 

‘I’ll tell the police the truth,’ you tell him. ‘But I’m not going to ‘throw you under the bus’.’ 

Yoongi lets out a long breath. ‘Fucking hell.’ 

He shakes his head. ‘I wish I’d never got in your car.’ 

You kind of wish the same thing. 

***

Yoongi’s cracked open a couple of beers with your dinner. 

‘Be careful when you’re crossing the stream tomorrow – the bridge is hard to see at the best of times, and I don’t think the snow’s made it any easier.’ 

‘Yes, dad,’ you say, rolling your eyes. 

You’d listened the first time he said it, but he’s repeated himself a few times now. 

He’s acting like he’s more worried about you getting to your sister safely than himself evading the entire manhunt that’s looking for him. 

‘I did survive an entire adulthood without you, you know,’ you say, teasing. 

He ignores you. 

‘There’s an SOS box two miles west when you get to the main road —’ 

‘Yes, I know how that works,’ you say, cutting him off. 

‘And if any man sends you dick pics you should block him right off the bat,’ Yoongi finishes. 

You stop, processing his words, then realise he’s joking. 

Your laughter makes the frown line between his brows disappear. 

‘And you don’t owe any man anything even if he makes you come,’ Yoongi continues. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. ‘Should I be writing this wisdom down?’ 

Yoongi frowns. ‘I just don’t want anyone to take advantage of you.’ 

‘Show me how to crush a trachea,’ you suggest. 

Yoongi swigs his beer. 

‘Yeah, good idea.’ 

He gets up, pushes his sleeves back. 

You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his upper arm. 

‘If any asshole tries anything with you, you should go for all his weak spots.’ 

He points to his own neck, the hollow between his collarbones. ‘Jab them right here, elbow up into his nose, knee into his balls. Then, fucking run.’ 

He holds out his hands. ‘Come on, try me.’ 

You look at him uncertainly. ‘You want me to hit you?’ 

Yoongi says, patient, ‘Hit me now so when you hit the next asshole you’ll know how to do it right.’ 

‘Who are all these assholes that I’m meeting?’ you ask, but you comply anyway. 

Yoongi rolls his eyes as you jab your fingers into his neck. 

‘Harder,’ he says, grabbing your hand. 

‘I don’t want to hurt you —’ 

‘Hit me as hard as I shoved that gun into your ribs,’ Yoongi says. 

The memory makes you wince, and you redouble your efforts with the next jab. 

When he coughs and splutters, you jerk your elbow up, straight into his nose. 

He’s doubled over now, but there’s one last move he’s asked you to do. 

You knee him in the balls, and he grabs your thigh at the last second so hold off the blow. 

You wrench his hand off and take two steps back. 

‘Fuck,’ Yoongi swears. 

He folds over onto the kitchen floor, still coughing, eyes watering. 

‘You’re supposed to run now,’ he wheezes out. 

‘Do you — do you want some water or something?’ you offer. 

He shakes his head. ‘I think you’re good. You’re pretty damn quick.’ 

‘Sorr—’ 

Yoongi fixes you with a glare. ‘Don’t even think about apologising,’ he scolds. ‘You fuck the asshole up, and then you run. You did it perfectly.’ 

‘Can I practice it again?’ you ask, sweetly. 

Yoongi says, ‘Yeah —’ 

It takes him a moment to realise you’re joking. 

***

Yoongi steps out of the shower, fully dressed, his hair still wet, making little trails of wet course down the neck of his sweatshirt. 

You’re already on the couch, covered in a fluffy duvet. 

‘You can take the bed if you want,’ he offers. ‘I’ll take the couch.’ 

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, towel drying his hair. 

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he asks, voice dry, ‘Something on my face?’ 

‘Nothing,’ you answer, startled. ‘You look good clean.’ 

His laughter is deep, gravelly. ‘I’d have taken a shower earlier if I’d known you preferred me clean.’ 

‘You should get clean for yourself,’ you answer, primly, but your lips are curving in a smile anyway. 

‘Your hair looks pretty like this,’ he says. 

You tug at a lock of hair, self-conscious. 

‘I’m surprised you’re not better at handling compliments,’ Yoongi continues. He’s looking at you now, teasing in his voice. ‘Given how pretty you are.’ 

You bury your face in your duvet. 

‘Stop teasing me,’ you say, muffled. 

He seems to hear you just fine. 

‘I’m not teasing,’ he says. ‘I’m just telling you what I think.’ 

‘Just turn the lights off,’ you grumble. 

Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re not the first woman to tell me to shut up, to be fair.’ 

He gets up, turns the lights out. 

***

You wake in the middle of the night to Yoongi groaning, tossing and turning in bed. 

‘Yoongi?’ you call, sitting up to look at him. 

He doesn’t answer, but his groaning intensifies. 

You get up and pad across the room to him. 

He’s drenched in sweat, thrashing in the sheets, holding out his hands. 

He’s having a nightmare. 

‘Hey,’ you say, grasping his hand. 

He sits up abruptly, looking around in the dark, bewildered, disoriented. 

You don’t have to think about it. 

You pull him in a hug, wrapping your arms tight around him. ‘You’re fine. It was a nightmare.’ 

You don’t think he’s really listening, but he holds you back. 

His heart’s thumping so hard you can feel it under your arm. 

‘You’re fine,’ you tell him again. 

Eventually his grip loosens, and he pulls back a little. 

‘That was some bad dream,’ you say, breathless from how tightly he’s been holding you. 

He doesn’t answer, and you realise he’s staring at your lips. 

His kiss takes you by surprise, but you don’t pull away. 

His lips are soft and warm. When he licks into your mouth you can’t help the whine that falls from your lips. 

Your hand fists in the material of his sweatshirt as he kisses you again and again, pulling you into a haze of pleasure so deep it takes you a moment to realise he’s stopped, his hand on your side, on your bare skin, under your top. 

He says your name. 

‘Do you want this?’ he asks. ‘We don’t have to do this if it’s not what you want.’ 

‘This?’ you ask. ‘You mean us kissing like this?’ 

You run your hand along his chest, stopping when you get to the waistband of his sweats. 

‘You mean touching each other like this?’ 

Your hand delves lower, and he lets out a low groan as you wrap your fingers around his hardness. 

‘Like this?’ 

‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,’ Yoongi says, his hand closing over yours. 

‘I want to do this with you,’ you tell him. 

He groans again, pulls you fully onto the bed, helps you tug your sweatshirt over your head. 

His warm hands slide up from your waist, making slow passes over your sides, and by the time he cups your breasts, your nipples are fully hard. 

‘Don’t tease, Yoongi,’ you say, trying not to moan as he rolls a nipple under his thumb. 

‘Not teasing,’ he says, voice low, thick. ‘I just — fuck, you’re so pretty–’ 

He dips his head, and at the first flick of his tongue against the tip of your breast, you moan. 

‘Yoongi,’ you plead. 

‘I’ve got it,’ he tells you, lifting off your breast. ‘I’ve got you.’ 

Yoongi mouths at your breasts until your hips are writhing under him. 

‘Please, please,’ you plead. 

He tugs at your sweatpants, and when you raise your hips to help him get them off, he leans down and presses a warm kiss to the bare skin over your hipbone. 

‘Wanna taste you,’ he tells you. 

He pushes your thighs apart, stops with his face over your core for a split second, breathing you in. 

Then he kisses you, open-mouthed, tongue delving into your cunt like he’s starving for you. 

Your moan changes into a cry of pleasure as he licks at you, nose nudging your clit. 

You reach out for something to grab, fisting the sheets, and Yoongi’s hand grips the flesh of your thigh, firm. 

‘Shit,’ he says, ‘ you’re so wet you’re gonna make me come.’ 

The idea of him coming before he gets inside you could make you cry. 

‘Get inside, Yoongi,’ you moan. 

‘Not gonna last, not with you like this,’ Yoongi tells you. He strokes between your legs, presses his thumb in firm strokes over your clit, licks into your cunt again, and you cry his name as you come. 

‘Fuck, that’s my good girl,’ Yoongi grunts. ‘Can you take me now?’ 

He slides his cock into you, hard, thick, whilst you’re still pulsing from your orgasm, and you keen with the pleasure of it. 

He’s breathless, head thrown back, eyes shut as he moves, fucking you deep. 

You kiss along his bared throat, and he swears. ‘Fuck, baby, stop – I can’t —’ 

He pulls out suddenly, and a moment later you feel the warmth of his cum spurting on your belly. 

‘C’mere,’ he says, pulling you close, kissing you deep. ‘Stay.’ 

***

You wait on the porch whilst Yoongi drives your car out of the carport. He pulls up in front of the porch, gets out. 

‘Remember what you have to do?’ Yoongi asks. 

‘Yeah,’ you say. 

You’ve talked about it so much you don’t think you can bear to go over it again. 

‘Drive safe, ok?’ Yoongi says. He’s looking at you, intently. ‘And thank you, for everything.’ 

‘Good luck with being exonerated,’ you say. 

It sounds stupid, you sound stupid, but you don’t know what else to say. 

Yoongi walks you over to your car, waits until your seatbelt’s buckled. 

‘I’ll see you, Yoongi,’ you say. 

‘Take this,’ he says. 

You look at the phone number he’s got scribbled down on a scrap of paper. 

‘It’s a burner phone. I can’t check it all the time but do you think you could —’ 

He breaks off mid-sentence, then pushes on. ‘Do you think you could text me when you get to your sister’s? I just want to know you’re safe.’ 

‘Sure,’ you say. You slide the scrap of paper into the pocket of your salopes, zip it up. 

‘Good,’ Yoongi says. 

You reach out, tug the collar of his parka. 

His kiss is as good a way to say goodbye as any, you think. 

Yoongi closes the door, waits on the porch as you drive away. 

He gets smaller and smaller in the distance, and eventually, you can’t see him at all. 

***

It’s been nearly a month since you left Yoongi at the house. 

You’d pulled up at your sister’s house to find out she’d just filed a missing persons report on you. 

You’d had an emotional reunion with your sister, an equally emotional introduction to your new baby nephew, and one meal and one hot shower later, you’d found yourself at the police station, being questioned by a couple of detectives who’d regarded you with suspicion so strong it was a short step from open accusation. 

You’d been questioned for hours but had eventually been allowed home. You’d been truthful, as you’d told Yoongi you would be, apart from one thing. 

It was only later, when you were on your bed in your sister’s spare room, that you’d picked up your phone and scrolled to the name you’d saved Yoongi’s number under. 

You’d typed out a text, two words, unincriminating, you’d thought. 

I’m safe. 

The next morning, there was a text back, similar to yours in brevity.

I’m glad. 

You’d refrained from texting again, or calling, not wishing to put Yoongi at risk in case anyone looked into your phone records. 

You’d been called in again for questioning on two separate occasions after the initial interview, once by people who’d introduced themselves as federal agents. 

You’d thought that was the end of it until the media got hold of your identity. 

There was a week or so of reporters stopping you outside your house, waiting for you in the school car park, until eventually something more newsworthy came along. 

You’d been photographed more times in that week than you’d even been in your life. 

You’ve taken to watching the evening news every night, but as time stretches on and Min Yoongi hasn’t been found, he’s been dropping down the list of top stories, barely scraping a mention. 

You’re glad. 

You hope he’s closer to getting what he wished for. 

***

‘Y/N,’ says Bora, your head of department. ‘Mr Lee wants to see you.’ 

You look up from your grading, a little surprised. ‘Did he say what it was about?’ 

‘Nope, just that he’s free now.’ 

You pocket your phone, straighten your ID badge and get up. 

Mr Lee is the school principal, and you’d organised a meeting with him when the media frenzy over your involvement with Min Yoongi was at its peak, but you’ve not seen him since. 

Mrs Choi, his PA, waves you in. 

‘Mr Lee,’ you say in greeting. ‘Did you want to see me?’ 

‘Yes, please come in and have a seat,’ Mr Lee says. 

He’s a serious man in his mid forties, and as far as principals go, you know he’s got a good reputation. 

‘There’s been a complaint put in about you,’ Mr Lee says, sparing you any preamble. 

Your stomach drops. 

‘What about?’ you ask. 

‘I know the media furore has died off over Min Yoongi, but the PTA has fielded a number of concerns raised by worried parents over your involvement in the case.’ 

You’re taken aback. ‘A number of concerns? It’s not just one —’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Mr Lee, and to his credit, he does seem genuinely upset. ‘I’m going to have to ask if you can take a few weeks off.’ 

‘Off?’ you ask, worried. 

‘It’s not a suspension,’ Mr Lee says, somehow giving the impression that a suspension is exactly what it is. ‘You’ll be paid, and at the end of four weeks we’ll meet again to discuss what your future is at this school.’ 

You’re trying to make sense of this. ‘My future at this school?’ 

Mr Lee gets up, moves to take the seat next to you. ‘I’m hoping that having you off teaching for a month will give enough time for these parents to realise that you’re not a bad influence on their kids.’ 

‘And if they don’t?’ you ask. 

‘I’m hoping they will.’ 

You swallow, and to your horror, tears prick the back of your eyelids. 

You blink them back. 

‘Should I look for another job, Mr Lee?’ 

‘It doesn’t hurt to keep your options open,’ Mr Lee says gently. 

You suppose that’s that. 

***

You wake to a dozen missed calls and texts from your sister. 

You blink blearily at your phone and swipe to answer. 

‘Yeah?’ you grunt. ‘Is everything ok?’ 

‘It’s Min Yoongi,’ your sister says. ‘He’s all over the news.’ 

You sit up abruptly. ‘Is he ok?’ 

Your sister, who’s heard all about your time with Yoongi, barring the details of your one-night stand, laughs. 

‘He’s more than ok. Get online, sis. There’s a press statement you might want to watch.’ 

You’re still a little drowsy, but by the time you’ve got your laptop open and made yourself coffee, you’re wide awake. 

Your phone rings again whilst you’re reading about how new evidence and a new witness was brought forward, resulting in a swift retrial. 

Distractedly, you swipe to answer. 

His voice makes you stop in your tracks. 

It’s gravelly, low, with the distinct mix of sardonic and soft that brings you back to the house in the woods, over a month ago now. 

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘How’re you keeping?’ 

You close your eyes, suck in a breath. 

‘Jeez, you telemarketers are getting a little personal, aren’t you?’ you ask. 

His laughter makes you feel warm inside. 

‘I just wondered if you wanted to go get dinner with me sometime.’ 

‘Depends,’ you answer. ‘Are we going to have to avoid the police?’ 

‘Always,’ he says, making you smile. ‘But I’m a free man now, I guess you haven’t heard.’ 

‘Your friends came through, huh?’ 

‘All of them,’ he says, the warmth in his voice palpable even through the line. ‘Including you.’ 

***

You’re a little nervous as you wait for Yoongi at the restaurant he picked. It’s a little out of the way for you, but at least it’s not snowing. 

He’s dressed in black, a cashmere sweater that sets off the glow in his skin, his hair styled back. 

The rings in his fingers, the earrings in his ears gleam in the golden light. 

He’s so beautiful you can’t quite believe he’s real.

Yet it’s him who stops in front of you, gaze flickering over you with a flattering intensity. 

‘How can you be even prettier than I remember?’ he asks, tilting his head. 

‘Guess you have a bad memory,’ you say. You’re smiling so hard your cheeks are hurting, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. 

‘I’ve thought about you a lot,’ he says. 

‘Yeah?’ 

Yoongi pulls out your chair for you. 

‘Yeah. I saw the footage of those reporters hounding you.’ 

‘They got bored after a while,’ you tell him. 

‘I’m glad you’re all right,’ Yoongi says. 

Over dinner he tells you about how the retrial resulted in all charges against him being overturned, how he’s been back home resting. 

‘Been to the beach yet?’ you ask. 

Yoongi looks at you over his wine glass. ‘You inviting me? You’re the one with a beach hut.’ 

‘We can go,’ you say. ‘I’ve been informally suspended from my job.’ 

This is news to him. 

‘Is it to do with me?’ he asks quietly. 

You shrug. ‘I’m hoping it’ll die down, especially since everyone knows you’re an innocent man now.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you tell him. 

He frowns a little, but lets the subject slide.

After dinner he walks you to your car. 

‘Can I take you out again?’ he asks. 

‘I’d like that,’ you tell him. 

He leans close, brushes a kiss against your cheek that sends a thrill all the way to your toes. 

‘I live about a half hour drive from here,’ you tell him, when he pulls away. 

‘Maybe I can drive us this time,’ he says. 

***

Yoongi slips his hand into yours as he walks up the front driveway to your house with you. You look over at him in surprise. 

‘What?’ he teases. ‘Don’t you want to hold my hand?’ 

You stick your key in the lock, push open your front door. 

‘Baby, I want to hold more than that,’ you tell him. 

Yoongi’s eyes darken, and he lets you push him against the door. 

He’s already leaning down, lips seeking yours. He kisses you hungrily, his large hand slipping behind your neck to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth. 

‘I’ve fucking missed you,’ he murmurs. ‘Shit, I’m so hard it’s embarrassing.’ 

‘Been deprived, huh?’ you tease, breathlessly. 

‘Nah. Just you.’ 

He kisses a fiery path down your neck, into the hollow between your collarbones. 

His hands slide down into the small of your back, cup your ass to pull you against him. 

You can feel the ridge of his cock against your belly, and you roll your hips, trying to get closer. 

‘Pull these down,’ Yoongi says, thumb looped in the band of your lacy panties. 

They’re stuck to you, the wetness between your legs trails a path down your bare thighs that Yoongi’s only too happy to lick off. 

‘I wanted to wait,’ he tells you, lifting the skirt of your dress, unzipping his trousers. 

‘Wait next time,’ you tell him. ‘Want you now.’ 

‘You’ve got me,’ he tells you. 

There’s the rustle of foil, the snick of elastic, then Yoongi’s parting your legs, sliding inside you with a groan deep in his chest. 

Just like before, he fills you perfectly.

Yoongi kisses you again, slow though you can feel his heart thudding wildly in his chest. 

‘Feels so good, every time,’ he tells you. 

He starts to move then, doesn’t stop when you part your thighs to take him deeper, doesn’t stop when you cross your ankles behind his back and cry his name, doesn’t stop until you’re panting, sticky with your release, clutching him tight. 

It’s only then that his thrusts start to become erratic, speeding up then slowing as he reaches his peak. He comes with a shout of your name, buried deep inside you, hips still moving like he, too, can’t get enough. 

***

When you wake in the morning, it’s with Yoongi’s finger tracing a lazy path down your spine, his fingertip warm on your bare skin.

‘More, Yoongi?’ you ask, sleepy.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, you can hear the rumble in his chest as he suppresses a laugh.

‘Tapping out on me so soon, my love?’ he asks.

After the first time when you hadn’t made it to your bed, you’d fucked three more times before you’d finally collapsed in a tangled heap.

You’d woken once, to see him flat on his back, looking out the window, fingers intertwined with yours. 

‘Can’t sleep?’ you’d asked. 

He’d turned to you, pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘Just thinking how lucky I am. I’d thought being wrongly imprisoned was the worst thing that had happened to me. And here I am.’ 

‘Here you are, you lucky sonofabitch,’ you’d laughed, squealing as he’d pinned your hands to the bed and half-heartedly climbed on top of you again. 

‘I am lucky,’ he’d said, his free hand sliding under your ass, squeezing. You’d have fucked him again if he’d wanted, despite the soreness between your legs, but he’d wrapped you in his arms instead. ‘Sleep, baby.’ 

So you had. 

Now your phone rings, distracting you from Yoongi’s wandering hands, just about. 

‘Shit, it’s Mr Lee,’ you say, sitting up straight. 

Yoongi cocks a brow at you as you take the call. 

‘Y/N, I wanted to let you know that the school board have voted to have you back taking your regular classes,  at your earliest convenience. If you’ll have us.’ 

You frown. ‘I hadn’t realised there was a vote?’ 

‘An emergency meeting was convened last night,’ Mr Lee says. ‘You don’t have to let me know now, but we’d love to have you back.’ 

You hang up, thoroughly confused. 

‘I guess I’m not informally suspended any more,’ you tell Yoongi. 

‘For a new gym with a fully functional basketball court, and a grant for gym equipment, they’d better be giving you a raise too,’ drawls Yoongi. 

‘You did this?’ 

‘What? You thought I was some deadbeat who held you at gunpoint and wasn’t going to repay everything you did for me?’ 

‘I never thought you were a deadbeat,’ you say. 

‘I know,’ Yoongi agrees. ‘You’re an idiot.’ 

You swat at him, outraged. 

‘You’re my idiot,’ Yoongi says, deflecting your blows easily. ‘And I’m going to make sure no one takes advantage of you ever again.’ 

He hesitates. ‘If — if you’ll have me.’ 

You pretend to think about it. ‘Well, you’re not perfect,’ you say, ‘but I guess you’ll do.’ 

©hamsterclaw 2023