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harringtonstudios · 2 years ago

Text

council.

plot: even with the world turned on it's head, somehow you find your way to Alexandria, and back to Daryl Dixon who seems to have a role in determining your fate. (set around s9)

word count: 5.8k of pure fluff divider credit: @firefly-graphics

note: hi i'm back! let me know your thoughts <3

Judith Grimes is a saint at the age of twelve.

Her gunfire gives your group an opening while being surrounded by a herd of the dead, allowing a quick getaway. The herd seems to surge as you run off into the dense woods, rapidly growing in size and volume. The groans and scrabbling still make your skin crawl, even all these years later.

When you finally reach the clearing, Judith is standing there, casually leaning against a tree and you laugh. She gives you a stern look back and it feels like you’re talking to someone much wiser than their years on Earth, someone who knows more than you could ever possibly hope to. She’s calm and collected, even as she holds a warm pistol in her hand.

Magna jokes about child soldiers, about artillery training. It stops being a joke when she whispers to you, “What kind of people would let a child go out on her own with those kinda weapons?”

That’s when you notice the number of weapons Judith holds. There’s the obvious gun, another smaller one hidden on her belt. The sword, sheathed, hanging carelessly over her shoulder. The knives tucked in her jacket pockets. The brass knuckles that seem too big for her hands, poking out of her jeans.

It’s odd. But before you can protest, the rest of the group is following little Judith Grimes to her people.

There’s an argument. And then another one. And then a third.

Judith’s people don’t want you, just like you and Magna don’t really want them. The rest of the group seems to disagree, Connie throwing you harsh looks as Yumiko angrily mutters rationalizations to Magna. Luke’s been attempting small talk with a few of the others, but there isn’t much to be said.

You’ve been thrown out of camps, been raided, left places. Done it all pretty much, and you can agree with Kelly and Magna when they emphasize, “We don’t know these people.”

“But they’re trading! There’s communities,” Yumiko stresses.

“We know what happens to places like that,” you mumble and one of Judith’s people gives you a look-over warily.

The sun starts to melt into orange light, and Judith promptly stands up on the wagon they’ve been using and declares, “If they don’t come back, I won’t either.”

Luke smiles at her.

Her group groans simultaneously and someone mutters, “Michonne won’t like this.”

You peek at Kelly, who gives you a shrug and Connie who signs, Good.

Magna is scowling, but you don’t really expect much from her. She’s trouble personified and with Yumiko so attached, hard to control. Anything you say earns you lectures from Yumiko, rants about privilege and the new world and using old biases. You hold your tongue a lot around the two of them, especially when it concerns Magna’s quick temper, or her ability to start problems with a facial expression, or the way she cannot help herself when she sees people’s things sitting around unguarded.

“Okay,” you say.

They make you give up your weapons almost immediately. There’s a protest from Magna, as expected, but then Yumiko’s reaching over and grabbing the knives from her sheath and everyone shuts up for a while.

You watch them pocket Connie and Kelly’s slingshots with a chuckle and anger starts to burn quietly in your chest.

The wagon isn’t too big, and even though half the group goes to ride in the car, it’s stuffy sitting in the back. There’s tension radiating off of Judith, off of the others now that you’re actually on the way to their compound. Luke’s rambling about some instrument he saved a couple years back and you’re politely pretending to listen while taking in your surroundings.

There’s a path they seem to be following, avoiding the easy highways that your group has been traveling on the past few weeks. You wonder why they’re roaming around in the woods instead of on the clear streets, but then there’s a bump in the road, everyone jostles out of their seats and the thoughts fly out of your mind as you try to keep yourself steady.

Judith’s smiling when you all settle back down, her eyes mischievous as she says, “We’re close to home.”

“What’s home called?” Luke asks.

“Alexandria,” she proudly announces, voice strong and head held up high.

The gates loom in the distance as soon as you get closer. It’s nightfall now, the sky too dark for you to be comfortable. Even in the wagon, you feel exposed and the lack of weapons makes you uneasy. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the apocalypse where you haven’t had a weapon of some sort on you. Hell, there hasn’t been a day since you were fourteen that you haven’t carried defensive items. At that time, it’d be pepper sprays or sharp keys, and then eventually an assortment of smaller accessible weapons, knives, brass knuckles.

You hadn’t held a gun before the infection took over, but you’d held plenty of crossbows and other hunting instruments, so the learning curve hadn’t been complex. A true Southern girl down to the bones, good with weapons, excellent at tracking, and a survivalist’s wet dream in the horrible Georgian woods.

Finding the right group had been easier for you than most. You’d stumbled upon Connie and Kelly during the main evacuation and quickly decided to stick with them. They’d been living in an apartment building right outside of Atlanta, and while the entire Georgian population started to rush into the city center, you three packed Connie’s Jeep and started driving into the outskirts.

Quickly, the decision to leave Atlanta had proven itself. Within days, the city had become a massive hotspot for zombie activity, with the dead surrounding all major buildings. The streets were filled with screams and gunfire, sound radiating all the way to the countryside.

You’d picked up Luke along the way, who’d been walking down the side of the highway grappling with heavy bags filled to the brim with instruments. He was a breath of fresh air in the immediate chaos, bringing positivity to your little crew. He’d also helped discover the shack you had holed up in for the first month, hidden partially by a thicket of bushes. It was a storage shack, evident by the various kitchen appliances stacked on top of one another and random boxes.

Your skills had proven useful instantly, with foraging and setting up various weapons that you’d tossed into Connie’s car. A week or two in, you’d been able to start canvassing the area, discovering other people camping out in different locations.

At first, your instinct was to approach the others. People had set up tents, lit up fires, and would spend hours chuckling and conversing with each other. But the longer you spent observing them, you noticed a couple of red flags. They were almost always hostile to outsiders, edgy about their own supplies, tempers rising quick. People weren’t necessarily nice out here.

Stumbling upon Yumiko had been a complete accident. You’d been observing one of the other groups, carefully leaning high up in a tree. As soon as the sun started to set, you’d jumped off and started the walk back to your own camp. A few feet in, you’d heard a whimper and quickly moved to see a woman lying on the ground, cut on her head, bleeding profusely.

After a quick inner debate, you’d lifted the woman and then dragged her alongside you back to the storage shack. Kelly had called you, “Fucking crazy!” and Connie had thrown over worried looks before scribbling on her notepad Bit?

You’d shaken your head no, and then locked eyes with Luke, who clearly knew you hadn’t checked the woman at all. He looked stunned at the blood, but then Connie had plopped the first aid kit onto a table and handed you a rag to wipe off the excess blood.

Quickly, the three of you had gotten to work, with Kelly applying pressure and Connie focusing on the cut itself. Once the woman had been cleaned up, and bandaged to the best of Connie’s abilities, you did a scan, shifting aside her shirt to make sure she wasn’t bit.

After ten minutes of laying her down on the makeshift beds you’d created out of rugs, she came to, eyes fluttering all around.

“Magna?” she had asked in a distinct accent, voice croaky and dry.

You passed her a water bottle, one of the few left from the original supplies, and quickly gave her an introduction, “I’m Y/N. I found you by the trees with a really bad cut. We fixed you up and brought you someplace safe.”

“Did you bring Magna?” she had asked, slowly sitting herself up.

“You were alone,” you murmured, walking over to balance her.

“That’s impossible,” she scoffed and then put the water bottle down before attempting to stand up completely.

“You can’t go anywhere. It’s already dark,” Kelly stated as you said, “You can find this Magna tomorrow. You need rest.”

It had taken some more back and forth to convince her, but begrudgingly she had agreed to spend the night. That’s how you’d become fast friends with Yumiko.

Magna had come along a couple of days later, found hiding out in some creek area by Luke when he went to the water source you all used to shower. She was brash and loud, almost angrily so, as if you’d done something to personally offend her. She was also one of the best fighters you’d seen, easily taking down some of the roamers without missing a step.

Yumiko had come up to you that night and stated, “She’s coming with us. It’s not up for discussion,” and that had been that.

There’s a council already seated at the head of the room as you slowly walk in. People are milling around, with awkward smiles holding cups of warm chocolate while awaiting the meeting to begin. Someone offered you one as you walked in, but the uneasiness in your stomach was already twisting and threatening to come out without any drinks involved.

In less than a day, a council was prepared to decide on whether or not you and your friends would be allowed to stay here.

You hadn’t cared initially, been through too many camps to feel secure in one and been around too many people to feel comfortable around others that weren’t your family. But Alexandria was different.

They had crops, and a watering system attached to a fully functional windmill. A doctor with a stocked medicine cabinet. Communication with other communities for trade and information exchange. Even a small jail cell, serving a purpose in this upside down world.

It was incredible, almost a replica of a town in the olden days, before electricity and telephones, a place lifted directly from history books.

In the night, the group had come together and discussed options. The consensus had been clear, five out of six had voted to stay in Alexandria.

And so the mission had changed. Instead of asking for your weapons back and petitioning to leave, you were going to fight to stay.

This was an issue of itself. Alexandria seemed extremely wary of outsiders, to the point where you’d been thrown outlandish looks from the residents and heard multiple hushed conversations about “the new people.”

The leader, Michonne, had been angry at your arrival. She’d scolded Judith, yelled at the people who’d gone on the trip, and then proceeded to instruct you all to leave in the morning. Somehow, she’d been reminded of the ominous Alexandrian council, of voting rights, and you’d almost giggled hearing that. God, you hadn’t heard the word vote for almost ten years.

The rest of your group fills in, shuffling behind you. The atmosphere's palpable, tense where you all stand, council poise and alert, while the rest of the Alexandrians calmly chat in the background, as if this was just another normal day.

“Everyone take your seats,” a man pronounces.

The council has eight seats, seven of which are full. There's an empty space right near the middle, and you focus all your attention on it, trying to stay neutral as people shuffle around papers.

“Where’s Michonne?” you hear Aaron ask.

Before anyone can respond, the door behind you opens and closes with a slam. You choose not to look over, keeping yourself steady and calm. If your anxieties start flaring up, this could be a disaster.

“I’m filling in for her. Gave me permission. She’s going out,” a low voice grumbles out.

His body comes into view, dressed in all black, closely resembling a combat outfit. He pulls the chair out and then sits himself down.

Your focus shifts to his face, calmly inspecting the new addition to the group. His hair is long and dark, covering up almost all of his features. He’s unidentifiable, beard poking out, colored with a mix of soft gray and black.

“Alright, this council will now be hearing out,” the pastor starts and you tune him out. Yumiko’s dealing with this entire ordeal, the only one with professional law knowledge. If there was anyone to impress, or anything right to say, she would know it.

As you keep your eyes set on the stranger in front of you, his hand rises, sweeping his hair back from his face, giving you a clear view.

Your breath catches in your throat. There’s no way the man in front of you is who you think he is. It seems more than impossible, but there are those striking blue eyes, that birthmark right by his lip.

Daryl Dixon is sitting less than three feet away from you and it feels like you’ve just been tossed into tidal waves.

The story starts like this. You’re sitting in first grade with band-aids on your knees, eating orange slices. There’s a boy standing in the front of the class with chocolate smeared on his mouth and a grin, missing his two front teeth. He’s new, joining your class in the middle of the school year and you immediately start chanting his name with the rest of your class as a welcome, twenty six-year-olds raising their fists in the air, screaming, “Daryl! Daryl!”

A couple of weeks later, he trips and falls hard during recess. There’s tears in his eyes and his hands are scraped completely. You watch from the other side of the playground in silence as the other kids laugh. The next morning, you beg your mom to pack another brownie to give to, “the broken boy,” and she laughs. He smiles shyly when you plop it on his desk.

In fourth grade, he brings a postcard to Show and Tell. There’s a big cartoon peach on it and scribbled writing on the back. He passes it around proudly explaining how his older brother traveled all across America in the summer. When the postcard comes to you, you see the words “little shit” in messy handwriting, and GEORGIA written in big block letters. During reading hour, one of the boys loudly whispers, “We live in Georgia. Your brother didn’t go anywhere stupid,” and Daryl pushes him so violently, his chair topples over.

You don’t really talk to Daryl until eighth grade. Over the years, he’s gotten much quieter, reserved where he used to be outgoing, restrained where he used to be emotional. He blends into the background, and you kinda forget about the boy who used to start fights and scream when you were younger.

It’s an accidental friendship, starting after a group project that involves too many markers, awkward conversations between kids who’ve never talked to each other, and a presentation where it’s painfully obvious that everyone is a little too nervous.

It turns out he likes the same bands as you, writes you notes during class with song lyrics and stories, starts knocking into your shoulders during lunch before giving you a quick smile as he heads off to the back of the cafeteria.

He doesn’t have many friends, but then neither do you, and it’s easy to talk to him as you walk home together after school. You have no idea where he lives for a couple of years, just know that it’s somewhere in the same direction as your place, and so every day after last period, you wait by the fountain on the first floor for him, a routine.

In high school, he shows up with bruises. It’s not uncommon, almost every guy gets into fights after classes, big crowds gathering by the parks, but he always walks you home right after school, and you know he isn’t fighting with the other kids. You ask him once, and he throws you the harshest look you’ve ever seen and tells you to, “Shut up.” It never gets brought up again.

A week into sophomore year, he comes to school with a cast on his right arm. He can’t take notes, or even hold his backpack properly. His fingers look weird, and he winces when you touch the cast, but still laughs when you sign it with a stupid message in red Sharpie. He passes his unit tests with extremely high grades after using your notes, and then offers to buy you a milkshake one afternoon for all your help. You let him steal your cherry as you both sit on sticky leather booths in the local diner, discussing the latest music on the radios.

Junior year, you start dating around. It’s not fun at all, there are all these rules it seems like you have to follow. The boy doesn’t want you to hang out with Daryl, he likes it when you wear red lip gloss, wants you to dress in certain outfits. It ends pretty quickly after a date where he takes you to the movies and then tries to reach up your shirt in the dark with his sticky hands. You throw your soda on him before leaving the theater, and then spend the rest of the weekend crying in your room. Daryl shows up at your doorstep on Monday morning holding a cup of shitty coffee and lets you rant the entire walk to school.

He’s your best friend until you go off to college and he ends up staying in that shitty town. You try to keep in touch for the first couple of months but it’s hard and then you’re busy with classes and trying to figure out a career and he’s calling you telling you about how he needs to bail his brother out and it all just feels like you’re living in two completely different worlds. One summer you come home and he has a splint on his left pointer finger, stitches on his cheek, and grease oil under his nails. He tells you that he hates living and you so badly wish you could take him away, hide him with you in your dormitory, and show him everything you’ve learned.

The next summer, you travel to California and don’t think about him once. Time and distance scrape away years of friendship. You can't remember ever having a fight with him, or a big blowout to end it all, instead the phone calls become shorter, the letters become far and few and one day, he seems to just fade into the background.

The council asks for your names and Kelly elbows you hard in the arm, breaking you out from the trip down memory lane. You look at the pastor, murmur out your full name, and then immediately feel the heat of his eyes on you. You don’t look over, unsure of what to even say or do. You’re on trial somewhere he belongs, waiting on the mercy of his people, standing in front of him after the world’s become living hell and you’ve lost everyone. Finding him feels bittersweet.

The pastor asks a few more questions, but there’s a pit growing in your stomach and the feeling is overwhelming. You nod along with the others, pretending you’re still paying attention. It’s hard to even decipher the words when it feels like your brain is being scrambled, when your heart is aching and thudding against your chest.

There seems to be a problem and the only way you notice is Yumiko’s fiery eyes turning towards you, slightly damp with threatening tears.

They need a break. She signs over, and it’s clear she has more to discuss with the quickness of her hands.

You follow her out of the building, feeling those damned eyes trail you all the way to the door.

“We need to gain their trust,” Luke starts, leaning against the side of the wooden building. His voice is calm, and so is his demeanor, but you watch his fingers shake slightly.

“That’s impossible! They clearly have an issue with outsiders. It’s not our fault or our business. Let them kick us out,” Magna raves, pacing back and forth. Her eyes are a little too wild, lips bitten raw.

How do we get them to trust us? Connie signs with a worried look, furrowed brows.

“We have to answer their questions. Properly,” Yumiko grits out, throwing a glance your way.

“I’m sorry, listen I’m just not feeling the best honestly. This is way more than we bargained for,” you murmur, just as you feel a hand clasp your shoulder from the back.

Time seems to stop. The others are suddenly clearing their throats, straightening out and eyeing the stranger with awful suspicion. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

Daryl Dixon’s hand is on your shoulder and suddenly, you’re in high school again, walking home after a long day.

“Hey,” you almost whisper, turning around to face the boy who’s so clearly grown into a man.

“Ten years and all I get is a hey,” he scoffs out, and even with the scraggly beard and the shadow of his hair reaching his shoulders, that mirth in his eyes burns as bright as it did in the past.

“Hi,” you offer, laughing just a little. Everything feels incredulous, like a fever dream coming to life.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and this time the joy disappears, a darkness taking over that’s new and unexpected. His eyes scan over your friends before returning to yours.

You shrug after a minute of silence. There isn’t a real answer to give him and your brain can’t come up with anything witty in lieu of a response.

There’s an awkward cough from Luke right before Yumiko gestures at Daryl and says, “You know him?”

“I used to,” you murmur, and you see him nod in agreement. You know who he used to be, but this new Daryl with his scars, his stories, he’s someone else now. The apocalypse changes a person in more ways than one.

“Can you help us?” Yumiko asks, voice clear. She’s not one to beat around the bush, but even you’re a little surprised at her blunt words.

“I’m not really on the council,” Daryl mutters, hand going up to rub at his head.

“Can I talk to you somewhere in private?” you ask, interrupting Yumiko from saying something else.

There isn’t much you can do, but Daryl knows more than he’s letting on, you can tell just by the way his voice wavers a little, the way he avoids your eyes. It’s clear he doesn’t trust the others, might not even really trust you, but even if it’s a shot in the dark, you have to take it for their sake, for a future.

He nods, “I can take you to my place.”

You fall into step with him, walking into the middle of a deserted road towards a line of suburban houses. It isn’t like before, he has a different type of walk, stealthy and intentional, not like those afternoons when he’d bump hands with you, trip over his own feet with a backpack slung over his shoulders.

He’s a stranger to you in the most unusual way. You can still tell when he’s lying, still understand the different emotions he expresses through those eyes, can even recognize when he’s uncomfortable just by the set of his shoulders. But now his voice sounds hoarse, his clothes fit differently. He doesn’t speak as much.

He reaches a driveway and then glances back over just to watch you follow along. There’s a car parked on the asphalt, and the garage shutter’s slightly cracked open. Bending down, he grabs the shutter and pulls it up.

There are tons of cardboard boxes inside, scribbled on hastily with Sharpie. The space seems infinitely smaller with the lack of space, and you step in, unsure of where to stand.

He steps in, and then turns around and pulls the shutter back down, blanketing the space in complete darkness.

“Fuck,” he grumbles and then there’s the sound of footsteps, a crashing, and finally the tinkling of a chain.

The light flickers on, a single lightbulb hanging from the garage ceiling. There’s a few boxes tumbled over, items scattered over the floor.

“You good?” you whisper, voice feeling unused and nervous.

“Mhm,” he grunts, furthering your unease. He doesn’t seem keen to start a conversation or even keep talking, and you’re supposed to be here securing a future home for your friends, your family. How are you going to convince a person who doesn’t care to be convinced?

“How long have you been with these people?” you ask. If there’s a place to start, it might as well be the beginning.

“Long before we found this place,” he says while crouching to sweep up the miscellaneous items into their boxes. You watch as he picks up baby bottles and blocks, simple things you haven’t seen in months.

Before you ask another question, he murmurs out, “Look I don’t know what I can do. Michonne doesn't want you guys to stay. Told me I couldn’t trust the rest of the council to kick y'all out, told me I’d have to push for it.”

“Do you trust me?” you breathe out, question falling from your mouth before you can stop it.

“I did,” he says, looking up from the floor, eyes meeting yours as he finishes his sentence, “I don’t know if I do now.”

“Okay,” you settle down onto the floor across from him. He’s back to picking up items, avoiding you as if that’ll somehow make you disappear.

“Daryl,” you start and he freezes, “We’re good people. We didn’t come here to start fights, we didn’t even mean to come here. Judith saved us, and if this entire vote is going to lead to us getting kicked out back on that empty road, tell me now. I’d rather break their hearts than give them hope.”

“Where were you?” he whispers, interrupting your proclamation, voice so small it’s hard to understand what he’s saying. His shoulders are hunched in, and his head’s facing the floor.

You don’t need clarification on his question, “Atlanta. Connie and Kelly saved me. We had a rough couple of weeks before we found the others and then we just figured out how to survive. Kept moving.”

There’s pain building in your throat now, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. The past hasn’t haunted you before, but seeing Daryl in this way has unlocked all the ghosts you’ve buried.

“Merle’s dead,” he mumbles out with a sniff.

You let the tears take over then, sitting on cold concrete under yellow light across from the person who’d known you more than you’d known yourself.

Merle was a piece of shit anyway, and you’d spent more nights than you could count letting Daryl rant about his shitty behaviors, his useless quips, his abuse hidden under the guise of being a “big brother.” These tears aren’t necessarily for him, but more for the years gone by, for the loneliness, the loss of the people you used to be.

“I made it quick,” Daryl barely gets out before his breath hitches and then you’re moving your hands over to where his are shaking.

You grab his hand, let your fingers fall in between his, and squeeze. He looks up and your heart breaks. Daryl’s older and scarred, his beard fuller but right now all you see is the kid who begged you not to leave him behind, who spent hours in the woods with you shooting crossbows, who held you tight as you sobbed through heartbreaks and disappointments.

“You can’t leave again,” he says, squeezing your hand back after you’ve both cried out your tears a few minutes later.

“I won’t,” you wishfully murmur, leaning your head against his.

He wipes his face and clears his throat, “I’ll talk to Aaron. He’ll understand the best out of all them.”

You nod. Aaron’s kind, has been since the herd had you surrounded, and although he was frustrated with Judith, he hadn’t yelled, hadn’t argued and fought. Marks of a good man.

“You need to answer their questions honestly,” Daryl continues, dropping your hand before standing up.

“Okay,” you softly echo.

“And pay attention,” he mutters, dusting his jeans off as he walks toward the garage shutters.

You let out a laugh. Of course Daryl would know you hadn’t listened to a single word that was said over the past hour.

You walk ahead of him this time, towards the building with the council, towards the people holding fate in their hands. The crowd’s mostly dispersed with people filing in again and Magna stands by the doorway, teeth gritted.

“Where the fuck did you go?” she bites out and you resist the urge to deck her in the face.

“I was talking to Daryl,” you reply and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him walk back into the hall.

“So are we good to stay?” she asks and beneath the cruelness, you can feel her nerves.

“He said he’ll try. We just need to be honest with them and answer everything,” you say while turning to walk inside.

“Great. So he’s fucking useless,” she huffs and you stop mid-walk.

“We’re all doing our best Magna. Why don’t you clean up your fucking act and try for once in your life?” you spit out, tired of her dramatics and her consistent ability to piss you off.

She doesn’t respond, instead following you inside where the rest of the group is already huddled up by the front of the room. The council’s almost fully seated, with the exception of Daryl and Aaron who seem to be talking by one of the windows.

“Anything?” Luke asks, perking up at the sight of you.

You shake your head slightly, “Gotta get this council to trust us.”

“Great,” Kelly laughs, rolling her eyes before furiously signing over a conversation with Connie.

Yumiko gives you a soft smile, “Hey, at least you tried.”

The council starts the session back off with a bang. Immediately, Magna is questioned about her prison tattoo and the hostility in her reaction doesn’t surprise you at all. The sudden calmness a second later does surprise you though, the way she breathes out before explaining the tattoo and her past in front of a room full of people. She’s cleaning up her act, just like you asked and you throw her a smile after she finishes.

The council’s wrath comes for Yumiko next, then Luke and then finally falls on you. The pastor takes a look at his notes on the table and then questions, “How many people have you killed?”

It’s a weird question to start with. The rest of the group were asked about walkers first, but you push away the uncomfortable feeling and answer, “More than the rest of them. Maybe over seventy.”

“People, not walkers,” one of the council squeaks out.

You glance around before your eyes settle on Daryl’s guarded gaze. He nods imperceptibly and you continue with your answer, “I’ve been protecting my group from the start. We’ve run across dangers and people with bad intentions. In order to keep them safe, I would do whatever it took. I can’t give an exact answer, but if it came down to it, I would kill for my family.”

“Would you kill us?” Aaron asks and you bring your eyes over to him. He seems content with your answer and curious.

“To save them,” you say, and a murmur breaks through the crowd gathered in seats behind.

The pastor holds his hands up, “Silence please.”

You wince.

Daryl licks his lips quickly once as if making a split-second decision and then states, “Y/N is good people. We all want to be loyal, save our families. It’s the only way we survive now. I would do anything for my family. I’d kill for them and I wouldn’t need a reason to do it either.”

The pastor throws him a harsh look and you quickly mouth a thank you. Aaron coughs and once the attention is on him again, he explains, “Daryl’s right. I would kill for every single one of you. I have killed for you. These people are strong, but they’re alone. They don’t have our resources, our safety, our support. We can give them that. I have seen no credible threat from this group and I motion for a vote.”

Magna scoffs under her breath and your eyes widen at her. Here’s what everybody has been fighting for and she still seems to have a problem.

Luckily, the council doesn't seem to hear it. The pastor taps his hand once and then voting motions begin.

You close your eyes tightly as the sounds of “Aye” and “No” fill the room, blurring together into a cacophony of noise. You don’t want to see the faces of these councilmembers as they choose whether you stay or leave.

“The votes have been cast and with 5-4, the Ayes have it. This group will be allowed to stay in Alexandria,” the pastor exclaims, with a tone of hesitation.

Your heart beats against your chest, the pulse jumping throughout your body. You open your eyes to see Connie and Kelly hugging, Yumiko glancing over at Magna with joy in her eyes and Luke’s wide bright grin.

Kelly grabs you, and quickly the small hug becomes a group one, your family surrounding you. You bury your face in Yumiko’s shoulder and let out a burst of new emotion as hands squeeze at you.

“You did it,” Yumiko whispers into your ear, her tears dripping onto your cheek. You sigh at her affirmation, let the hug ground you back to Earth.

As you take a deep breath, you lift up your head, connecting your own eyes to those beautiful blues. He has the faintest hint of a smile on his face, mischief written in his irises. He’s here, and he’s alive and this time, you won’t ever dare to leave him behind. It’ll take some time before you can claim him as your best friend again, but with that look in his eyes, you know that he’ll always have your back, no matter what.

#back on my bullshit daryl dixon is a softie agenda #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x oc #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #too lazy to continue to tag

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lyn-js · 10 months ago

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Home Sweet Home | Chapter 7. Love me all Night Long

Rhett Abbott x OC Reader

Summary: Sunny Pritchett decides to move back home, but without a reason why. Once she's back she runs into her childhood best, friend Rhett Abbott. Rhett seems very surprised to see her. Not only that, but he sees she has a small child on her hip. Will Sunny try to reconnect with Rhett and tell him the real reason you she's moved back. Or will her past come back and find her until everything blows up.

Warnings: Mental and Physical abuse, PTSD flashbacks, swearing, fighting, smut 18+

You both finally get to the motel, you’re getting anxious about finally being with Rhett. But for some reason, you start to doubt yourself. Wondering if you were good enough for him.

You have dealt with so much from Gabe, from beating and slapping you around, to saying that you’ll never amount to anything. He has broken you down into a shell of who you originally were. You believed that you were beaten and broken beyond repair and that nobody would want to give you love. You were afraid after you told Rhett what happened, he would sprint off in the other direction. Wanting nothing to do with you, or Ollie ever again. But you snapped out of your untrustworthy mind and focused on being in the moment with Rhett.

When You both enter the room you feel a chill down your spine, your mind is going crazy. The only thing you can do is back up against the door. Not knowing where to go. You snap out of your daze when you hear Rhett, to see him take off his hat and toss it onto the bed. You walk back over to him, he meets you halfway and both of you start attacking each other's lips. You grab the back of his head, playing with the little ends of his hair and he grones into your mouth. He backs you up against the door pinning you with nowhere to go. Rhett releases your lips, and guides down to your neck, peppering soft kisses everywhere humanly possible. Traveling down to the tops of your breasts, mumbling sweet nothings the only one you can hear is him saying “You have no idea how long I dreamed about this darlin’.” He comes back up to your lips capturing them in a bruising kiss. You pull away to get a clear look at Rhett, and when you do once again his chest is heaving begging for air to get into his lungs. His lips were pink and swollen from the steamy make-out session you two just had, and a little smirk formed on his lips.

You both connect your foreheads and try to get a word out but nothing in your head makes sense. “R-Rhett… I just want to let… you know that I haven’t done this in a while.” You say with a weary voice, afraid to speak again. Thinking maybe he doesn’t want to be with you, that he already changed his mind. “I just want you to take it slow, but if you don’t… it’s okay, we can pretend-” Rhett cuts you off by putting a finger over your lip, and puts his hand on your cheek. You nuzzle into his hand, and you then flutter your eyes open to fully look at him. “Whoa, hey hey hey. Sunny-girl… we can take this as slow as you need. If you want to stop we’ll stop. Okay?” You simply just nod, trying to hide your face in the palms of his hand again. But he doesn’t let that happen. “I need to hear the words Sun, repeat what I just said.” You take a deep breath and repeat the words. “If I say stop, we stop.” that made Rhett smile, and earned you a kiss. “Atta girl,” he mumbles against your lips, you could just melt into a puddle on the floor by what he just said.

He pulls you once again into a searing kiss. While pausing in between kisses he manages to take off his shirt, leaving with a toned chest and stomach, and seeing a bull riding tattoo on his left peck. The only thing you can do is drag your fingers down from his hair to his chest, and then to his abs. Then gently tugging on his belt trying to take it off.

He takes his hands and slides them down to the backs of your thighs pulls away from your mouth, and mumbles against your lips. “Jump” You listened and he caught you in his strong embrace. Walking over to the bed he gently places you down on the mattress. You push up onto your elbows to see what Rhett is doing. He was just looking at you admiring how you look. You swear you could see a little glimmer in his eye, you really wouldn’t know why he would admire your body. You’ve been so beaten, and bruised you couldn’t even look at yourself for months just by how bad it got for you. But you're with Rhett. He wants to make sure you feel special and loved. You never want this feeling to end.

When Rhett’s looking down at you, he’s looking at your stomach since your dress was riding up when you laid on the bed. He can see the big blotched bruise fading black and blue near your navel. His hands go to your sides, and he kneels so you're face to face-with him. “What happened? Did Adam do this?” he removes his hand from the side and his fists are clenching on the bed, and only sees red. “N-no, no, no he didn’t do this. I swear.” That’s the only thing that you can say. Too scared to say anything else about how you got these bruises.

“What… What happened? Ya’ know you can tell me anything.” he says with a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood a little bit. “Trust me… I do want to tell you, but I’m afraid.” you're trying to avoid eye contact with him, but he tilts your chin up to have your full attention back “Afraid of what Sun?” he asks you with a little bit of concern in his voice. “Afraid you’ll look at me differently. That you're going to run for the hills after I tell you. I just got you back… I-I can’t lose you again.” You're trying to hold back tears, you're just feeling so ashamed and exposed. You just want to crumple up into a little ball, and never see the world again.

“Hey… look at me Sunny-girl.” You direct your vision over to him again, taking a deep breath and letting him continue. “Look. You don’t have to tell me everything right now at this moment. That’s your business. You can tell me on your own time but eventually, I would like to know more. If that’s okay?” he asks, taking one of his hands and wiping the stray tear that’s on your cheek. “That… that would be okay,” you whisper back to him. In return, you see him with a growing smirk on his face.

He comes down to the side of your face and mumbles in your ear “Can I kiss you again, pretty girl?” He comes back up and he gets closer to your face you can feel his breath on your cheek. You simply nod, and say a quiet “Yes please” and you both attack each other's lips again.

You come to sit up a little bit on the bed and untie the string on the back of your dress. Once you finally get the knot untied, the top of your dress falls to your stomach. Exposing your breast to the cool breeze. While Rhett is once again attacking your neck in little kisses, when he’s done making some marks on you, he moves down and puts his lips over your nipples, enrapturing them in his warm mouth. “So beautiful” he whispers over your skin, sending little shivers down your spine. While he puts his attention on your breasts you rake your hand from his broad shoulders and slide down to his jeans to try to remove his belt and unbutton them.

He moves himself from your chest back to your mouth giving you one final kiss before standing up. He takes a step back taking off his jeans, just leaving him in his grey briefs, and you can see the outline of his bulge. “Like what ya see baby?” you almost buffer from the term of endearment. He slowly strides back over to you giving you a passionate kiss before taking his hands to pull your dress off. He looks back up at you “Can I take this off you pretty girl?” You quickly nod wanting to shed off your clothing. “Words Sun.” “Y-yea” you shudder while feeling Rhett's knuckles skim over your skin.

He starts to pull down your dress, but he stops when he sees the wet spot on your panties. “You're this wet for me Sunny-girl?” again you don’t have control over your words, so you start talking nonsense. “Yea, all for you. A-all of this… is for y-you.'' After that, he rips off your panties and then places little kisses on the inside of your thighs. you can feel his breath on your pussy it makes you shutter. He looks back up at you and says “Are ya’ ready Sunny-girl?” “Yes yes yes!” you say not waning another moment away from each other. Then, without a second longer, he dives right into your heat licking up and down your folds, your eyes roll into the back of your head and you're certain they might pop out. His nose hitting your little bundle of nerves over and over again. You're trying your hardest not to squeeze your legs together so instead you tighten one fist in Rhett’s hair, and the other in the sheets.

Suddenly you can feel the little band in your stomach tighten and about to snap, already reaching your high. “Come on Sunny-girl. Cum for me.” you hear him whisper and then go back to licking your heat. “Rhett I’m a-about to cu-“ when suddenly your high washes over you, almost having the feeling of drowning in ecstasy.

After he is finished eating you out like a man starved, you pull Rhett back up wanting to encapsulate his lips into another kiss. He does so, also coming up to wrap you in his embrace and never let go. He goes back up and takes off his briefs, and you see his erection spring up on his stomach. “R-rhett that’s not g-gonna fit!” you blurt out. Your cheeks start to fill with heat and get darker within seconds, and you once again want to curl up into a ball of embarrassment. How on earth would you say that out loud? You think to yourself. He lets out a chuckle. “Don’t worry baby, just try and relax. Everything is gonna be fine,” he says calmly. But instead, you feel his fingers enter you, you let out a gasp, another band tightening in your belly.

He gently adds another finger into you and mumbles against your lips “gotta stretch you out so you can take my big cock. Plus I wanna get you all nice and wet. Ya’ think you could pull another for me, baby?” The only thing you can do is let out the most wanton moan and nod aggressively. Not confident in speaking, maybe not able to speak since what this amazing man is doing to you. You start to feel the band snap and tell Rhett you're about to cum, when suddenly it comes faster before you can speak. You let out another moan, and your legs start to shake heavily, unable to control your own body.

When you come down from your second high, Rhett grabs both of your thighs and hitches them up on his waist. “Do we need a condom?” he asks you. “Don’t worry cowboy, I’m on the pill… and I told you I haven’t done this in a while. Just… just go slow. Please?” you say in a breathless and quiet tone. “Nice and slow, okay?” You put your hand down and stroke him a few times, then you’re rubbing his cock on your slit trying to get a little bit of pressure onto your core. But when he’s about to enter you, he stops. “What are the rules baby?” you blow out a breath. You take a moment to fully look at him “I say stop, and we stop.” your body shudders when he says “Good girl.”

You can feel him slowly slip inside you. He feels so big. You’ve never felt this full in your life until Rhett, It feels like he was ripping you apart and then putting you back together again. You move your hands to your clit, trying to add more friction to what Rhett was already doing to you. But he stops you from reaching down, instead, he takes your hand and pins them above you so you won't move.

You suddenly feel him lift you and thrust into you deeper than he was before. Hitting that spongy spot inside you over and over. “Oh god, you feel amazing baby,” he whispers in your ear. That snaps you in half. You start to feel that high again in your stomach. What sent you over the absolute edge was when Rhett slipped one of his hands beneath you and started to rub your clit in a fast motion. You cum again, shuddering against him, and pulling a third orgasm out of you. You have never felt this amazing in a long time. Seconds later you feel him shudder against you, pumping you full of his seed, and gently fall on top of you but not putting his full weight on you, he flips over on the other side of the bed.

Both of you are trying to catch your breath, when you suddenly say “That was…” “Fun?” He tries to finish your sentence but you both end up letting out a breathy chuckle. He says to you “Don’t move your pretty self, I'll be right back.” He quickly gets up, but when he's about to walk to the bathroom you give his butt a little smack. He turns back around to look at you, “You're a little minx, ya know that Sun?” In return, you just give him a smirk. “Say what ya want cowboy. I just can’t resist that little bubble butt ya have.” He kneels on the bed and gives you a quick peck on the lips, then he walks back to the bathroom.

When he comes back he sees you spayed out on the bed, only your bottom half being covered by the sheet. Rhett walks over to you and is running his hands down your body. You turn your head and look up at him and you see a smirk growing on his face. “Where’s your pretty head at cowboy? I can almost hear what’s going on,” you point to your head. Rhett sits back down on the bed, dramatically ripping off the sheet that was covering your bottom half, letting the cool air hit your core. Then, you let out a hardy laugh and move closer to his face until you can't get any more space between the two of you.

“Just thinkin’ how this is real. About how I’m with you right now” he kisses you, “in this bed, *kiss* with this beautiful body displayed for me *kiss* and letting me finally be a part of your life *kiss* and Letting me love you *kiss*.” Your eyes are welling up with tears, you just wanted to keep him in this bed forever, and never let each other go.

But that feeling disappears quickly when a slightly cold cloth hits you right in your pussy. Letting out a little moan in the process, and Rhett kissing you again and trying to distract you. You both stop kissing when Rhett throws the towel in the hamper in the corner, lies down behind you wrapping his hands around your middle and pulling you close to his chest.

You turn over on your side, but when you do Rhett is already looking at you. “You've no idea how long I've been dreaming about this.” you climb onto his chest saying in a quick tone “You already said that cowboy” with a smirk creeping up on your face. He suddenly flips both of you over and starts peppering your face with kisses. When you finally give in he releases you and you both look at each other with such affection and gratitude. “From the moment I saw you in the market, I haven’t stopped thinking about you Sunny-girl.” you could swear your heart burst into a million little pieces with love. “I might sound crazy right now… but I’m done pretending that you're a friend to me. When I see you so much more than that.” you start to front a big, bright smile on your face. “Ya know what? I’ve been thinkin’ the same thing.”

You lean into his embrace and give him a passionate kiss. Wanting to savor this moment forever, and never wanted to let this magical moment go. You both finally lay down and cuddle into his warm embrace. Laying your head on his chest hearing his heartbeat starting to die down, and putting your face into the crook of his neck, Rhett in return placed a loving kiss on the top of your head. “Rest a little bit sun, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispers in your hair, then gives one final kiss, and both of you fall into a light slumber.

You feel so special to be with someone you wanted your whole life, and now you finally get to have this special moment with Rhett. You almost feel like your old self again. I hope this feeling will never go away.

End.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm so excited to be on this journey with all of you.❤️❤️

Sorry babes for not posting yesterday, this week has been hectic and all over the place. Luckily, I've had some free time today to finally post this week's chapter. Love you all.

Reblogs are always welcome. Unless you're under 18. I will block you. and comment if you wanted to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @callsign-magnolia @roosterforme @angelbabyyy99@cornishkat@els-marvelvsp

dividers are by @saradika

#rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #outer range #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine

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winniethewife · 1 year ago

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Eclipsing Love

(Marc Spector x Mafia!OC)

Last chapter ~ Next chapter

Chapter 6: Always here

Words: 1708

A few days later they were in London. Charlotte was wearing a long black velvet dress with a black veil over her face. She looks in the mirror of the hotel room and takes a deep breath. She sits on the bed and pulls on her garter belt holsters. Marc watches as on one side she slides the Damascus blade that Elizabeth had given her on one side and on the other she holsters her hand gun. Marc just looked on at Charlotte as she prepared herself physically for the task at hand. He wanted to ask if Charlotte was okay with this still, but the way she was putting on her garter belt holsters made him think that he already had his answer. This was something Charlotte had planned for months or even years, so he wasn't going to get in the way. He walked over to her side and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"Ready?" He whispered. She blinks away some tears and speaks quietly.

“Almost.” She stands up and grabs a holster from her suitcase and helps him put it on his belt. “It's a mob funeral. If you're not armed they'd be suspicious.” She explains Marc smiled softly as Charlotte helped him put the holster on his belt, his fingers running along her arm for a brief moment before she took a step away then wandering over to the closet, she opens the gun case she brought and pulls out a gun she hands it to Marc and he looks it over. It's a beautiful hand gun with a mother of pearl inlay on the handle. He then took the gun, looking at the inlaid handle before he looked at Charlotte and smiled again.

"It’s Beautiful” He said, not able to take his eyes off Charlotte.

As they got to the church Charlotte and Marc sat in the first row. Charlotte’s father and Isabella's father sat with them. The funeral was very lovely. After the priest talked for a while and Charlotte's Father gave the eulogy it was time to view the body. Charlotte and Marc went up to the body Charlotte holding a single white rose laying it across her daughter's chest as she looked at the child. She looks like she’s sleeping, like she would wake up in any minute. Charlotte leans in and kisses the little girl's forehead, whispering in Gaelic to her small still body. Marc was in awe at Charlotte's strength throughout this entire funeral she'd managed to make it seem easy. But what struck him the most was... how this seemed to have affected Charlotte. She had tears in her eyes as she laid that single white rose for her daughter, and the words she said in Gaelic? It was like a mother's prayer, a prayer for a little girl gone from the world much too soon. He would have to tell Charlotte later that he loved her again. Not out of his sense of duty anymore, but because of the way he felt about her. The same way she did about her daughter.

“I love you Isabella. You will always be with me.” Charlotte ran her fingers through her daughter's hair one last time before turning to Marc and taking his hand, intertwining her fingers with his as they walked back to their seat. Tears stream down her face behind the veil. After speaking with some family members they leave the church and go back to the hotel.

Marc held Charlotte's hand the whole way back to their hotel room, not letting go of her for a moment. Once they got back to the hotel room he closed the door. "... Charlotte?"

“It's time... isn't it?” She asks quietly as she watches the sun setting out the window of the hotel. “You have to... complete the hit. For Khonshu.” For me. She used the only terminology she knows. As the Mafia taught her.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s one way to put it huh?” He said quietly as her put his arm around her waist. Khonshu was watching this from somewhere. Marc tried to pretend that he wasn't, but he felt like he was being judged by the God of the Moon for hesitating in this moment.

"I'll do it for you Charlotte." He said. "I'll get this done."

“Can...can I see you as Moon Knight or is that not allowed?” She asks with some curiosity. “I don't wanna break some weird Avatar of Khonshu rules I don't know about.” She chuckled slightly as she turned to him. A slight smile on her face despite the circumstances. Marc smiled back at Charlotte and tilted his head to the side in thought before he nodded his head.

"I think... I believe I can show you the suit." He said, a little bit curious of why this meant a lot to Charlotte. "You ready?" He asked.

“I think so” She nods. She watches with fascination as he so summons the suit. She takes a couple steps forward as his eyes glow white, she's seen a lot of things in her life but this was completely unique. As the suit wraps around him she takes another few steps closer until she’s standing right next to him. When the transformation is complete she reaches out and slowly and carefully uses the tips of her fingers to trace the lines of ceremonial fabric on his chest, around the crescent darts in the center of his chest and eventually up to his face, where she caresses his face over the mask feeling the familiar face underneath. Marc held his breath as he felt Charlotte's fingers on the mask, and his breath caught in his throat ever so slightly. This was intimate and... He liked it. Charlotte was just fascinated by it all, and Marc enjoyed that she took her time to take it all in. The suit was so much a part of him, of his identity. Her fingers trailed up and down his chest, along the lines of the ceremonial fabric and the crescent darts. Her touch was so... gentle...

“It’s beautiful… you’re... beautiful.” She says just loud enough for him to hear as she runs her fingers over his lips. She smiles slightly as she runs her fingers along the hood. Her eyes not leaving his as she leans in and puts her forehead to his. They sit like that for a minute foreheads touching Marc felt an... Intimate sensation throughout his body as Charlotte called him beautiful. No one had ever called him that, and the feeling it produced was... almost intoxicating. He watched her take in his appearance. Charlotte was looking at him in a way that... it's almost like she couldn't even see the Moon Knight suit, just Marc as he was before, and it was incredibly sweet to him.

“Please be careful.” She says before pressing her lips to where his are under the mask. “I love you.” She looks at him and her brow furrowed and she bit her lip.

“I've never done this before but...”she tilted her head slightly and looked just above him. “Khonshu, if you don't bring him home to me, I will figure out a way to kick your ass.” She says with determination trying to figure out the best way to talk to a god she can't see but now knows is here. Charlotte had just used her words to challenge a God, but for Marc? It just felt like Charlotte was fighting for him. His fingers ran up her back and he kissed her on the forehead.

"I love you too." He whispered.

a few hours later Charlotte was laying in the hotel room bed, she had taken a shower and was in her pajamas. She was staring at the balcony of the hotel room waiting for Marc to come back from killing her father. She sighs turning to stare at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep until she knew he was okay. Until he came back. Marc was gone longer than he had anticipated. He had killed Charlotte's father first, but Marc wanted to be absolutely sure that no one was left alive that could retaliate. After he was certain that he had successfully completed the Job and everyone that was involved with the mob that night was dead, he went back to their hotel room in the moonlight.

As he made his way on the balcony of the hotel room, He saw Charlotte was still awake, The suit faded away and he went to go and comfort his love. Charlotte was on the phone when He came in. She was speaking quietly to whoever was on the other end. She looks over at him and her signature half smile comes on her face as he slowly walks over and sits on the bed embracing her as She continues to talk on the phone. The tone of voice she was using was very business-like. Very professional, with a startling cold undertone to it.

"Hey, gorgeous." He whispered, wrapping his arms around her, as she hung up the phone and looked at him, the coldness melting away as she looked at him. Her energy returning to the Charlotte he was familiar with.

“That was, the wife of my father's right hand man. I've been getting calls for the last hour congratulating me on my succession, and condolences for the loss of my father.” She holds him close for a minute. “I'm getting conflicting messages though, how many of my father's circle did you kill tonight?”

"All of them." He said bluntly. "You're safe. No retaliation, no one trying to take over the mob. It belongs to you now."

He paused, and then added the words he wanted to add. "I love you, Charlotte."

"I love you too, Marc." She kissed him softly. Running her fingers through his hair. She knew it was going to take a lot of work to take down the organization but she felt right now, with Marc by her side, She could do anything. Everything was possible. She wasn't sure if she believed in soulmates, but he made her question all her beliefs.

Marc pulled her tighter to him. He was never letting her go.

Masterlist

Tag; @ominoose

#moon knight #marc spector #oc fic #marc spector x oc #moonknight fanfiction #moon boys #moon knight fanfic #Charlotte walker #oscar isaac fic #oscar isaac

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stranger-rants · 2 years ago

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For context, this is what happens in Ch. 10 of Runaway Max from Max’s perspective. Billy had been pulled over and given a ticket. When Neil finds out, he hits him. Susan pretends like nothing is happening while she reads a magazine. but Max stands in the kitchen watching in shock. Neil continues to hit him. Billy ends up on the floor, and Neil takes off his belt to whip Billy:

Neil planted his feet and raised the hand with the belt. “Are you ready to take your punishment?” “Stop it!” I shouted it. I hadn’t known I was going to say anything until it came tearing out of me. It felt jagged, like I’d been holding something inside. Neil turned, and for a second, looking into his eyes was like looking into the sun, blank and dazzling. Then he smiled a tight, mechanical smile and turned back to Billy. “Is this the son I raised? A worthless loser who needs a little girl to fight his battles for him?” He said it with so much wonder and disgust that I felt my face get hot and my eyes fill up. In that second, I believed it - that he was right, that I was no one, just a little girl and there was no way to stop someone like him. He was a grown-up. Neil set his jaw and swung the belt. He did it without hurrying, like it wasn’t a big deal. He did it the way Mrs. Haskell down the street beat the dust out of her rugs. When he was done, he didn’t look at either of us or say anything else. He just turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Max asks if he’s okay, and he says “get away from me, Max.” She asks if he needs ice, and he says, “I said, get away from me.” more aggressively. Then she backs off. Here, we see the consequence of Max trying to intervene - Billy gets beat harder, with his father emotionally abusing him on top of it all. This isn’t Max’s fault, but it illustrates why Billy feels negatively about anyone trying to help him. Susan does nothing. Pretends nothing is happening. She doesn’t even look horrified by the situation, which unnerved Max. Max is just a little girl who cannot actually help him, though, so Billy feels hopeless. Neil intentionally divided them to make controlling and abusing them, easier, with Billy being his primary target.

There’s no evidence of Lonny doing anything like this to either Jonathan or Will. He was not a good father, and he traumatized his kids. However, his abuse wasn’t like this and people have got to stop comparing the two. Different contexts for abuse. Different maladaptive coping mechanisms. Different duration of abuse. Different support systems. Etc.

I know people aren’t going to listen to me, but you guys have got to stop comparing two completely different characters’ trauma.

Jonathan and Billy do not share the same trauma.

In fact, they are the exact opposites. Yes, both had abusive fathers. Fine. But that’s about it. Their similarities end there. See, Jonathan had one thing that Billy didn’t. Proper support.

Joyce didn’t decided to leave Jon with Lonny and disappear from his life forever. Jon was not left in an abusive household with absolutely so form of support. Joyce, instead, left Lonny, took her kids with her, and was trying her best to be a good single mother to her two young boys. Jonathan still had his mother and his brother to guide and support him.

Billy didn’t. His mother straight up abandoned him with his abusive father. I don’t know how many of you know what typically happens in those situations, but here’s how it goes. When there are two victims and one of them gets free, the abuser doubles down on the abuse of the victim still in their care. They want the remaining victim to think there’s no way they’re going to get free, so they tend to abuse the victim more frequently. Billy, already hurt from being abandoned, is suddenly alone and dealing with even more abuse than he was originally dealing with. You could argue that he did have support through Max at one point, but he pushed her away. Now, I haven’t read Runaway Max yet, but from what I understand Billy was getting beat worse due to Max trying to help. This was not Max’s fault by any means, but her help wasn’t actually helping. If anything it gave Neil even more leverage to abuse Billy into the mindset that he would never be helped or loved.

(Also, I’m not going to go into it in this post but, Max and Billy didn’t have the same trauma either. You can live in the exact same household and go through extremely different things.)

Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove did not go through the same trauma. Jonathan had a safe space. Billy never did.

#billy hargrove #jonathan byers #abuse tw #runaway max

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aemonds-sapphire · 4 years ago

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Coffee Run - Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks simply wanted to enjoy his coffee in peace, but you had needs of your own, especially knowing he was entering his rut. You know what they say... be careful with what you wish for, because you just might get it.

Warnings: NSFW. Rut!Hawks. Feral Hawks. Public sex. Breeding kink. Pregnancy kink. Lactation kink (brief mention). Featherplay. Slight overstimulation.

Word count: 3.7k

Hawks was nearing his rut. That much was clear. Keeping up an easy going appearance was what he excelled at, until he hit that particular time of the year. Until he was forced to take that medication that would suppress his primal instinct to breed.

But rarely anything in this world came without bearing unpleasant consequences.

“I’ll just have the usual. Thanks.”

The young waitress then turned to you expectantly. “And you, miss?”

You pondered for a second as you eyed the pro hero sitting in front of you. To anyone oblivious to the changes occurring in his body they might think he was just not a morning person.

An idea popped in your mind all of a sudden.

“I’ll have a strawberry lollipop,” you finally said, causing Hawks to briefly lift his eyes from the phone in his hand. “What? I have a sweet tooth.”

The waitress nodded and walked away. He was still glaring at you, one fuzzy eyebrow slightly arched.

“Just that? It’s not a proper breakfast.”

“Neither is coffee, yet here we are.”

He shrugged at your response, shifting his attention back to his phone.

Coffee was his personal mood booster. It was dangerous to demand anything from a rutting Hawks until he had drunk an unhealthy amount of it.

The sun was barely out, and that was exactly why he’d choose this café. Only a few people would be there, which meant he wouldn’t have to deal with loud fans walking up to him and asking for selfies or autographs... or even hugs. It was perfect to hide from everyone how moody and snappy he could get in times like these.

But you figured he still wasn’t taking the medication. He always dreaded it because of how groggy and lethargic it’d leave him.

“You okay?”

He had his index finger flicking up and down on the screen. “Sure.”

But what Hawks didn’t know was that... well... you knew what why he was acting so unlike him.

Soon after, the waitress came back with a large cup of coffee and your lollipop that you promptly snatched from the tray with a smile.

Hawks mumbled a quick ‘thanks’ and you watched him take a few gulps of the hot beverage, while you removed the wrapping.

He sighed in pure relief as his huge wings vibrated from the instant pleasure. “I really needed this.”

You also reckoned he needed something else.

Sliding the round candy in your mouth, you propped your chin on interlaced fingers, regarding him quizzically.

“Is that all you need?”

The apparent innocent question had his golden eyes meet yours. However, you needed them to travel south, so you parted your lips seductively and dangled the lollipop from one corner of your mouth to the other with your tongue.

Bingo.

Hawks’ eyes dropped to your mouth in an instant, taking in the sight of you skilfully twirling the stick while letting out some lewd wet sounds.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I love sucking...” you said innocently.

The cup in his hand cracked lightly from his tight grip, and a faint frown settled on his beautiful face.

“You sure you okay?”

For someone who was able to maintain an wavering smile not matter the circumstances, Hawks really was falling behind his reputation. Maybe it wasn’t wise for you to keep pushing him like this. All the innuendos and teasing would eventually get him to snap.

You kept on sucking and licking the hard candy happily, eyeing your boyfriend with utmost interest.

He took another sip of his hot coffee, and you noticed his pupils were slightly dilated. Undoubtedly, the visual of you sucking on something was a enough to spark his arousal.

“Hmm... this tastes so good...” you moaned softly, fluttering your eyes shut for a brief moment. “Want to taste it?”

When he didn’t reply, you decided to take it up a notch. You kicked off your shoe and moved it to touch his leg.

He arched an eyebrow.

Slowly, you began sliding it up his leg and only stopped once you’d reached his inner thigh.

“Stop...”

You let the round candy caress your bottom lip, making sure he could see strings of your saliva sliding down to coat your tongue. Mustering a bit more courage, you dragged your feet until it reached his crotch.

Hawks was hard as a rock.

“You’re so warm...” you whispered, rubbing your foot against his cock.

You could tell he was about to snap.

“Hawks? Honey, look! It’s Hawks!”

You quickly turned your head to look at a young couple that was approaching your table. It couldn’t be avoided. Even in the early hours there would always be someone who was a fan of Hawks.

Hawks was forced to regain his composure, and you figure it was taking every single fibre in his body to produce his trademark unwavering grin.

The woman seemed a little hesitant at first. “Are we interrupting something? I’m so sorry... we are big fans.”

“You are such an inspiration to us,” the man added with excitement.

“Thank you!” Hawks beamed, his beautiful features never betraying what was going on under the table. “Want an autograph?”

She quickly nodded, rummaging through her purse to get a pen. “Our baby will love you, too. We’ll make sure of that.”

Hawks visibly swallowed. “Baby?”

“Yes! We found out we’re going to be parents last week.”

You side-eyed him closely. Inwardly, you started cackling in delight, knowing far too well this was one of Hawks’ most intimate triggers. It was far too obvious that being in his rut made it all much worse for him

“Congratulations! How is everything going?” you inquired sweetly, applying gentle pressure on his covered erection with your toes.

He shifted in his seat, doing his best to cope with the sudden stimulation coming from you.

The woman seemed taken aback by your kindness and quickly bowed her head while handing the pen to Hawks.

“Oh, the morning sickness can be quite draining, but otherwise I can’t complain.”

Her partner handed Hawks a copy of a magazine that had him on the cover. He blushed awkwardly. “She keeps it in her purse in case we run into you so we can get an autograph.”

“That’s awesome,” he said genuinely, his voice slightly strained as he drew his signature on it. “Thanks for the support.”

The couple retrieved the magazine and bowed to both of you before walking away.

“That is so cool...” you said, twirling the lollipop stick in between your thumb and index finger. “I wonder what it feels like being pregnant.”

Hawks moved your foot away from his crotch. “Bathroom. Now.”

Your mouth fell open at his sudden outburst, sliding your foot back into your shoe. “Why?”

He rose to his full height as his red wings quivered slightly. “I’m done with you.”

Placing the hard candy back on its wrapping, you gulped as you followed his lead. The café had started to get more clients, and some of them shot a few glares at the winged hero.

The waitress was eyeing both of you. “Is everything okay?”

Hawks shot a brief smile. “She’s not feeling well.”

He certainly had a way to have things go his way.

She looked at yo worriedly. “Should I get help?”

Hawks hurried you into the bathroom, before adding. “She’s with the number two pro hero. I’m all the help she needs.”

Point taken.

Hawks pulled you into a small cubicle, shutting the door with a kick. You heard the lock rattle and you took the opportunity turn around to face him. His massive wings struggled to fit inside the confined space, which caused him to look more menacing as they coiled up against his body.

“You’re rutting.”

His pupils were fully blown and you briefly saw something flash in his eyes. “Of course you know.”

“I know a lot of things,” you cooed, dragging down one hand to squeeze him through his pants. “You’re not taking your medication.”

You’d been dating Hawks for a few months now, and you found out that he went through a rut every year by mere chance. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots after hearing a phone conversation between him and someone from the commission — you assumed it was a doctor —, who insisted that Hawks had to take the hormonal suppressant medication to lessen the effects, allowing him to function properly.

“I don’t fucking need it,” he snarled at you through gritted teeth.

“I think you do... if you’re so willing to fuck me in a public bathroom,” you whispered seductively, giving his cock a gentle squeeze. “I wonder what made you snap... was it the conversation about pregnancy... or—“

Hawks had had enough of your running your mouth, and with little effort on his part, he flipped you over so that you were now pressed against the bathroom sink, a tall mirror capturing your surprised expression along with his feral one.

“No, little bird...” he growled, hooking his gloved fingers in the belt loops of your pants. “I am not gonna fuck you. I’m gonna breed you.”

It was a dark promise, and one you knew he could keep. After all, that was the purpose of a rut: to breed. Every single cell in his body was prepared for this, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend this sudden shift in Hawks’ demeanor didn’t make your pussy clench.

Your hands were supporting your weight by gripping the edge of the cold material of the sink, and you tentatively leaned forward in an attempt to brush against his crotch.

Hawks slid one hand to your front, effectively undoing your pants. “You’re ovulating... fuck...”

That caught by surprise. “What...”

He shifted his body on top of yours, so he could nuzzle your neck, capturing your scent.

“I can smell it... fuck...fuck... you need to be bred...”

In one swift motion, he yanked your pants down. Hawks was usually so much more gentle with you during sex; this was definitely something unexpected, but that you couldn’t stop yourself from yearning.

On the other hand, you considered his words for a moment. Did he really mean it? Did he really want to knock you up, or was this just his hormones talking?

Either way, this was turning you on beyond belief, and you decided to egg him on.

“You want to breed me?”

He was nipping at your neck, causing a few of his moans to be heard. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

“I need to knock you up... I need you tummy all swollen with my baby,” the young man kept mumbling more to himself than to you, but you couldn’t get enough of it. “I need your... your...”

A gush of wetness leaked out of your pussy as you felt him fumbling with his belt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see a faint blush settling on his face, increasing his handsomeness by a tenfold — you didn’t even know how that was possible.

“My what...” your voice came out in a low mewl, keeping your hips swaying at a steady pace.

Hawks undid his pants at once, and gave your ass cheeks a few slaps with his leaking cock.

He gripped your hip tightly. “Let me see your tits...”

You kept yourself balance on one hand as the other dragged the fabric of your shirt up, rolling it just above your breasts. Hawks released his cock, bringing his hips forward to have it slide between your round cheeks; you could start to feel the wetness coating your skin and standing your panties as he kept humping you. His free hand moved to grasp your bra, jerking the material down and finally exposing your hardening nipples.

Hawks heaved a deep breath, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at your body through the mirror.

“Can’t wait until they get bigger... full of milk... leaking for me...” he brushed his gloved thumb across your sensitive nipple, causing it to harden even more. “I bet it will taste so good... so sweet... you know I love sweet things.”

Your mind was going blank from all the pleasure being delivered to you at once. From his cock slowly fucking your ass cheeks all the way to the way he was glaring at you through some public bathroom mirror while spitting out the filthiest things you had ever heard him utter.

He snapped his hips hard for a split second, almost causing you to lose balance, forcing you to grip the sink with both hands, eyes still fixed on the way your breasts bounced softly along with each shove from him.

Slowly, he dragged his hand to your lower abdomen, massaging it with spread fingers. “Fuck... I need to feel it getting swollen... gonna knock you up so good.”

Streaks of precum were sliding down your cheeks, leaving wet trails behind and sending jolts of pleasure running down your spine.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna make you cum fast,” he suddenly said.

You weren’t really sure why he was apologizing for that, or even how he intended to achieve such feat. Hawks was more than capable of pleasuring women, but even the most skilled man certainly had his limitations when it came to how fast they could make a woman reach her high.

Even so, apologizing for giving someone an orgasm probably ranked up high with the likes of “Sorry, but I’m going to give you a new house” or “Sorry, but I’m going to give you an unlimited supply of money”. Out of all the things he could feel sorry for — like desperately banging you in some public bathroom, for example—, that one should be the least of his concerns.

As if reading the skepticism splattered across your face, he gave you a knowing smile, and before you could even wonder what he meant by that you felt something poking your covered clit.

What the...

“Hawks!”

You didn’t expect desperate Hawks to play fair, but this was on another level. The fabric covering your soaked pussy was being pulled to the side, and in no time a velvety object started proving your pulsing clit.

He was using his feathers.

Now you knew what he meant by making you cum fast, the bastard. The sensation was overwhelming, and you vaguely wondered why he had never tried this before.

“Shh... I need you to cum first, so I can have your pussy milking my cock,” he pressed a kiss on your neck. “Be a good girl and keep your voice down.”

With one hand still caressing your tummy and the other squeezing one breasts softly, you tried hard to bite back your moans as his feather kept stroking your clit as he commanded.

You started panting heavily, drunk in pleasure. “I... I... Hawks...”

Seeing that you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, he brought the hand on your breast to clamp it over your mouth.

“You’re so ready for me... I can feel the vibrations through my feather... you’re throbbing so much for me, baby...”

And it was the absolute truth. Your were absolutely sure his feather was already drenched in your juices, but you didn’t care at all. A few more flicks and strokes sent your hips into auto-pilot, trying to get more friction.

Long and drawn out moans erupted from your throat only to be muffled by his gloved hand.

You could feel something in your core swirling and shifting and through the haze of passion, you could tell it was the tension building up inside you that was reaching a dangerous peak.

“Good girl... t-that’s my girl... getting ready for me to breed her...”

His dirty talk served as the perfect incentive for you to get closer and closer to the edge. You saw your vision begin to tunnel and suddenly you fell headfirst into the explosion of pleasure that had your arms and legs shake violently, and you thanked the heavens that Hawks’ body was pressed against yours, or you’d have sunk to your feet.

But before your pussy could stop contracting around nothing, you felt your body being pushed forward and in one quick slide, his cock was buried deep inside you.

Hawks’ hips faltered for a second as he adjusted to your tightness. “Fuck!”

The feather brushing your clit stopped its ministrations, and as your field of vision started clearing, you saw it hovering in front of your face. It was completely covered in your juices and a few droplets dripped onto the sink. His hand fell to grip your hip, and your lips immediately parted in a silent scream as overstimulation took over.

“Keep it open... lick... lick it...” he groaned, his voice strained and shaky as his cock endured your contractions.

You extended your tongue out, allowing is feather to drag along it, pooling your wetness on your tongue.

Hawks’ reflection shivered before your eyes at the newfound source of pleasure. “F-fuuuck... just like that...”

His wings fluttered as so did the feather stroking your muscle, and even though your orgasm had already subsided, the never ending stimulation from his thick cock hitting deep inside you was just too much.

“I’m gonna lose it! Fuck!” he nearly cried out, ad you could only pray that no one could hear him outside.

Your knees bucked weakly as he snapped his hips into you once, twice and again closing in on his own release, but the moment you ran your tongue over the sensitive extension of his body you knew he was done for. He bucked up to meet your hips in an especially sharp thrust and you could feel the hot gush of his cum deep inside you, coating your trembling walls, mixing with your own juices.

He hadn’t lasted long, but you weren’t at all surprised, considering how much the vast array of different stimuli that he was subjected to in such a sort amount of time.

A few seconds ticked by, and he finally began pulling out, you pussy reflexively clamping around him as if to make him stay.

“Stop clenching like that before I get hard again...” he warned, giving your ass a soft smack as he slid out completely with a loud slurping sound.

You whimpered softly as emptiness filled you instead. As you were about to straighten yourself, you felt a blob of cum threading to spill, and Hawks promptly kept you leaning forward.

“I didn’t just fill you with a big load for you to waste it all,” and with that, he dragged the tip of his cock along your leaking pussy and pushed it back inside. “There you go... all stuffed again.”

The head of his cock didn’t stay inside you for long, and once he slid out you reached for paper from the dispenser hanging on the wall.

He grabbed your arm. “No.”

“I need to clean myself...”

“No, you don’t,” Hawks whispered sweetly into your ear, and you felt him tug at your panties before letting the fabric slap your over sensitive clit. “You’re gonna be a good girl and keep it all in.”

Your eyes widened in shock. Certainly, he didn’t mean that....

“Hawks... I can’t walk around with your cum dripping from me,” you stated as a matter of fact.

You saw his reflection in the mirror; he had a devious smile dancing on his lips, making your insides coil in sudden realization.

“Didn’t you want me to breed you? Then keep my cum inside your tight pussy,” he began, planting soft caring kisses on the side of your neck in between. “Think you can do that for me, beautiful?”

Feeling your panties sticking to your swollen lips with the aftermath of both your juices and drops of his cum made a shiver run down you entire body.

You nodded once.

Suddenly, he bent over slightly to grasp the waistband of your pants, quickly dragging them up your thighs.

“Time to go,” he huffed as one of his gloved hands brushed along his unruly golden locks of hair. “This was just meant to be a quick coffee run.”

There was a faint smudge of pink crossing his nose and resting on both his cheeks. He looked positively less tense, with his blush being the only indicator that he had just emptied his balls deep inside you.

He unlocked the door and exited first, but not before shooting his Hawks-like smile at you. “I’ll be going ahead to pay and deal with the fans.”

You chuckled as the door closed, and turned to look at your reflection in the mirror while adjusting your clothes. “Well... don’t look at me like that. He’s impossible to resist, especially like this...”

After you were done washing your hands, you took a few steps immediately feeling a few drops of cum dripping onto your panties. You clenched your pussy hard in the hopes of preventing more from spilling.

This was not going to end well.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out and were met with the waitress. “Oh! Are you alright now?”

Yeah, I just got fucked hard and I have cum leaking from me. “Yes! Thank you, and sorry for leaving like that... I really wasn’t feeling well.”

She nodded in understanding, stepping aside to let you walk into the lobby only to see a loud commotion of people piling up around something. Big massive turfs of scarlet feathers quickly gave it away and you smiled fondly.

Hawks.

A few girls standing nearby were giggling to each other, catching your attention.

“Oh my... he’s so much more handsome up close,” one said with a dreamy sigh.

“His wings are so pretty...” the other murmured.

Yes. Hawks had that effect on nearly everyone he crossed paths with. In one way or another, people had the tendency to fall fo him and be drawn by his quirky personality. Even if at the end of the day, once he got home, you could see the wearing effects of having to keep up with this society’s standards.

As the crowd began to disperse, he waved a hand at you.

“It was so nice to have you here, Hawks,” the young waitress blurted out as you two made your exit. “Please come again!”

The number two pro hero bowed his head and gave her a thumbs up. “I’m sure I will. Very soon,” he winked at you.

Very poor choice of words.

Masterlist

#hawks smut #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #mha hawks #bnha hawks #tw: breeding #tw: lactation #tw: pregnancy #takami keigo #mha smut #bnha smut #hawks scenarios #hawks imagine #hawks headcanons #hawks x y/n

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letterstotheflre · 4 years ago

Text

that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

TAGLIST: @emmaev @gxtitobxby @ildm4ev @capsmischief @arisblackhole @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @tonystarksmutgarden @blowing-mikey @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @glossiable @remusjlupinisdead @amixedwitch @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour — if you want to be added tap here

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter smut #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #marauders fanfiction #marauders angst #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #james potter fluff #marauders fluff #marauders smut

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evertidings · 3 years ago

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looping memories [short story]

— a short story of Blane ‘celebrating’ a previous birthday of theirs

happy birthday to my favourite grumpy half-fae, Blane!! as my most controversial ro and character, i’ve gotten more and more protective over them as the asks come in. they’re not the most agreeable person and i wouldn’t say many of their decisions are particularly rational, but i love them and it’s their birthday so hush, no hate for today. today is their day and their day only.

no promises on whether i can get to them, but if anyone has any Blane related questions for the occasion, i’ll try to answer as many as i can! in celebration, i’ve also written a short story for them. like many of their drabbles, it’s bittersweet and a little sad, but also very necessary in understanding who they are.

it’s under the cut for everyone to enjoy <3

Blane has hated their birthday for about two decades now. Nearly two decades since the holiday has been ruined forever. Since they realized that perfect is an illusion and that everyone you trust will eventually betray you. It’s only a matter of time when they already have the dagger in their belt. All they have to do is unhook it and stab you in the back. Just like they did to everyone else.

They were only four or five when it happened. And every year, they’re reminded of it again. Each November 6th, they wake up with an imprint of the memory seared in their head, playing in a loop when they close their eyes. Over and over.

There’s no day they hate more than their own birthday.

Blane had booked the day off, but maybe they shouldn’t have. Now they have the entire day to just think about that night, all alone in their dark apartment. It’s lonely here. It always is.

Because they hate this day so much, Blane stopped telling people their birthday. It was mandatory when it was on file and written on papers—they cringed whenever they saw the date—but when that wasn’t a part of the process, Blane would simply not answer the question.

Not that many people cared to try. The moment they realized how hostile Blane was, how terrible of a friend they’d be, they stopped guessing and left them alone.

Ironic how the one thing they didn’t want to be that night is now the only thing they crave.

Liar.

With too much time to spare, Blane wastes the day by going out, visiting nurseries and bookstores and loitering until they’re sure the employees begin to talk amongst themselves about who has the dirty job of telling them they need to leave. For the sake of avoiding as many people as they can, they make sure to exit before that can happen.

Even their meals are short. They treat themself to a restaurant they only go to when they have the time and money, since it’s a little pricy and rich in delicacy enough that these things should only be a gift, but they barely make it through one course before they decide they’re done. The waitress gives them a look for that, but she doesn’t have the courage to anything.

By the time Blane reaches their apartment again, the sun is in the middle of setting and there are a few scattered stars beginning to emerge.

They should have been more productive with their day, they know that, but the entire day, they couldn’t bring themself to. Blane lives every day knowing their existence is in spite and they revel in it, but their birthday is the one day they can’t muster the strength to. It’s riddled with too much pain, too much hurt for them to pretend that they’re completely okay with what happened all those years ago.

It’s the one day they should be most spiteful, but ironically, they can’t.

She must laugh at them.

The most painful part of it all though, is that Blane doubts she even knows how much damage she caused. To her, it was just a decision. A simple decision that did nothing to affect her life but did everything to dictate theirs. In their most vulnerable state, Blane sometimes wonders if she even remember them. No. Why would she? She made very clear what her thoughts were when they parted.

Memories. Looping.

They never want to see her again.

Blane walks up to their apartment and blinks in surprise when they see N standing outside. Their partner breaks into a smile when they see Blane coming, despite the less than welcoming look on their face. In their defence, it’s mostly just confusion.

“And here I thought you’d make me wait out here all night,” N says in greeting.

Blane frowns. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“You have your phone muted.”

Blane pulls out their phone and sees that N is right. Two missed calls and seven text messages. They forgot they did that this morning.

Blane examines their partner. They’re still relatively new, having barely been together for more than a couple of months, but they’ve truly warmed to N. Who would have known the soft and kind hunter would be the only one to tolerate and understand them? Blane certainly didn’t.

It took them so long to become friends, if that’s what their relationship even is. Blane had pushed them away every time they tried to get close, ran at every opportunity, talked only when it was necessary. N’s patience was what got through to them in the end. Patience and a couple of their smiles.

Blane swears that even the most stoic of people would eventually crack under that smile.

“Is there an emergency?” Blane asks, unlocking their door.

“Seriously? We’re playing that game?” They can hear the eye roll in N’s voice.

“What?”

N walks into the apartment, sets their shoes onto the rack on the side and settles their things on Blane’s counter. They turn to face them with such seriousness that it worries Blane.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

Blane can’t hide their flinch when they hear the words, and immediately N’s expression softens.

“Unless, you didn’t want to tell me.”

Blane sighs and walks over to their couch, avoiding N’s gaze. Their partner has always been too good at reading their emotions. Scarily good. After a long pause of silence, Blane says, “My birthday isn’t a day I like celebrating.”

N comes and sits by them. “Is that why you called today off?”

“I shouldn’t have. I should have gone and kept myself distracted.”

After a short pause of silence, N says, “You should have come. You missed out on a lot. They had curry for lunch, for one, the vegetarian kind that you love. I would have saved you a bowl but you know how stingy everyone is there about taking food home, especially when it’s as popular as this one. Oh, but before any of that even happened…”

Blane feels themself smile as N rambles on about their day. It’s a kind distraction to the wave of darkness that was just about to overtake them and is exactly what they needed and N knows it.

Their partner go on for quite some time, giving details that are irrelevant but interesting enough to keep Blane engaged. They don’t interrupt and N doesn’t force them to comment if they don’t need to, talking plenty for the both of them.

When it comes to the part where N asks Blane what they did, they’ve loosened up enough to tell their partner snippets. How they went to the nursery and stared at plants but didn’t take any home. How they wandered the bookstore, finger trailing on the spines of both old and new stories, but didn’t find anything they liked. How they went to a restaurant to eat and were the only one sitting alone. How lonely they felt the entire day. How they feel this way every year.

It all comes spilling out. It’s like they’re drunk. They can’t stop the flow of words that are pouring from their mouth, how their feelings are in control of him.

To their credit, N doesn’t do anything but listen. Their face is a blank slate, nothing in their expression to suggest that they feel sorry for their partner. Most people would.

“I hate my birthday. It’s the worst day of the year,” Blane whispers.

N studies them for a moment before standing up. They walk over to the kitchen counter and unravel what they had brought, bringing it over with a candle and lighter in hand.

A cake.

Blane wants to laugh. They don’t think they’ve ever blown out a birthday cake in their life. N has even decorated it to match their aesthetic. All black with white and green accents. Sage green.

“Tell you what,” N says. “Whatever memories of your birthday, let’s overwrite them. We still have a good couple hours of the day left. I’m going to light a candle and you can make a wish, and then we’re going to spend the rest of the night together so that by the time we’re back, you’ll have forgotten all about your shitty morning. Sound good?”

Blane stares at their partner for a moment but eventually finds it in them to nod. N puts the candle on the cake, pressing it into the soft material. They light it in one go and sit there patiently as Blane watches the steady flame grow brighter. It blurs the edges of reality around it, a mimic of what Blane is currently feeling.

Make a wish, N had said.

And so, Blane makes a wish to the universe. Please don’t let me be lonely ever again.

They blow out the candle.

#drabble #blane rekner #interactive fiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there.

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #series #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #what's yours is mine

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crossbowking · 4 years ago

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Honey & Whiskey

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

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

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

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

Happy reading!

xx Jess

Masterlist

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

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

He appreciated the quiet these days.

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

And then he thought of her.

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

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

Daryl’s steps faltered — ‘his’ people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then suddenly, it stilled.

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

And then he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rick and Daryl shared a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stranger shrunk away.

Daryl wondered why the sight bothered him so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not Daryl.

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

Little did he know.

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

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

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

“Need a hand?”

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

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

He realized then that she was really rather beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gentle breeze roused Daryl from his thoughts.

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

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

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

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

Which made leaving that much harder.

“Daryl!”

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

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

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

“Hey, wait up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl lied to his brother that day.

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

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

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

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

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

But then her eyes met his.

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

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

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

Unlike the unexpected and rapid thrumming of his pulse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the tightness in his chest finally faded.

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

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

And then his big brother went and got himself killed.

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

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

To Glenn, to Maggie, to countless others.

He’d pay for what he did to Merle.

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

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

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

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

No matter what the cost.

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

But Y/N was just as quick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t want to hear any of it.

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

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

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

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

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

Guilt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Old habits die hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Daryl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that followed was deafening.

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

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

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

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

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

Not even sleep could take him from her.

Everything changed after that night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She became his solace.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw,” Y/N sounded softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl quirked a brow, unconvinced.

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

He scoffed softly in response, shaking his head.

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

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

Y/N’s face immediately lit up. “Me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dog,” she nodded resolutely.

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

“Yup,” she grinned, popping the ‘p’.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the prison fell.

And destroyed everything good along with it.

“Do you miss her?”

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

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

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

Daryl grunted softly in response, not trusting his voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl wasn’t a religious man.

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

The archer felt his throat constrict.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’d move on to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he saw her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, almost hesitantly, she squeezed back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The weeks that’d followed nearly destroyed them all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But hers?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was Daryl’s turn to look away.

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

He never got to thank her.

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

And he never got to thank her.

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

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

When Y/N reached towards him, he stiffened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not from her.

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

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

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

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

There had to be something else, something more.

The world couldn’t be all bad.

Not the same world that’d given him her.

Daryl pulled his gaze away from the darkened sky.

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

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

It was better than before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N appeared surprised at his response but didn’t push further. Instead, she exhaled heavily. “This place is like the fucking Twilight Zone.”

He huffed a breath, nodding in agreement. “Ya headin’ back over there?” he rumbled after a moment, jerking his head in the direction of the welcome party.

“Oh, no,” she quickly shook her head. “I’m sick of people,” she admitted before glancing over at him. “You don’t count.”

Daryl snorted a laugh, rolling his eyes despite the strange sort of pride her words brought him.

A beat of silence passed before Y/N spoke again. “Aaron seems like a good guy.”

The archer grunted softly in response, their conversation from earlier coming to mind. “He wants me ta’ start scoutin’ with him — findin’ other survivors, bringin’ ‘em back.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Daryl sounded, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

“Is that something you’d wanna do?” she asked, leaning forward a fraction.

He paused, taking a minute to consider her words. If he was being honest, he felt more comfortable outside Alexandria’s walls than inside — and having a good enough reason to be back on the road didn’t seem like such a bad thing. But if he was being really honest…

Daryl’s gaze met Y/N’s once more — he hadn’t been away from her since the prison fell.

That wasn’t exactly a time in his life he’d like to revisit.

“I do alright out there, I guess,” he shrugged a shoulder up, dropping his hand back into his lap.

A look of amusement flashed over her features in response. “That’s quite the understatement.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, but he couldn’t seem to ease the sudden worry gnawing at him. “Ya gonna be alright in here?” he rasped, steadying her with a serious look.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” she countered smoothly — but Daryl could hear the hint of something in her tone, something he couldn’t quite place. When he remained silent, Y/N’s expression turned reflective. “I think it’ll be a good thing — you could help a lot of people out there who need it.”

The archer picked up on her deflection. “That ain’t what m’ askin’,” he retorted, calling her bluff.

Y/N looked as though she wanted to argue — but then her lips pressed together, forming a thin line. “I don’t know,” she finally said, avoiding his gaze. “I just — I don’t like being away from you, that’s all,” she admitted quietly, wringing her clasped hands together.

He stilled, never having been more grateful for nightfall — otherwise, she surely would’ve seen the sudden redness creeping over his cheeks.

“But, like I said,” she continued, exhaling a slightly awkward laugh. “It’ll be a good thing.”

He nodded once. “Mhm,” he sounded, not trusting his voice.

Her eyes softened before she began pulling herself up off the porch steps. “Well, I’m gonna get some sleep — see you in the morning?”

The archer cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya,” he rumbled.

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips as she headed up the steps, gently squeezing his shoulder as she passed.

He didn’t move a muscle, listening intently for the sound of the front door shutting before closing his eyes, ignoring the tingling sensation beneath where she’d touched him.

Daryl huffed a defeated breath. “Shit.”

Had he given into instinct that night, he would’ve told her the truth.

He would’ve told her that he felt the same way, that being away from her felt like losing half of himself, that nothing in his life had ever made sense until he met her. The words had toyed at the tip of his tongue, desperate to be heard after being swallowed time and time again — but he just hadn’t been able to do it.

He could almost hear Merle’s snide voice in the back of his head — taunting him, calling him ‘whipped’ and a ‘pussy’ and a ‘good-for-nothin’ redneck’, mocking him for even considering that someone like her could feel anything for someone like him.

So instead, he’d reverted back to what he knew best — shutting down and pushing away.

It wasn’t intentional, merely second nature after years and years of repetition.

But the wall he’d worked so hard to build stood no chance.

Not against her.

Daryl knew something was wrong the moment he crossed back through Alexandria’s gates.

And then the screaming started.

He took off into a sprint, his heart mimicking the echo of his footsteps pounding against the asphalt. He could hear Aaron and Morgan just behind, right on his heels, their heavy breathing mirroring his own as the sounds of anguish grew louder.

The archer felt his stomach drop the closer he neared, his mind repeating one, single phrase over and over again —

Just let her be okay.

When he and Aaron had gotten trapped in that car earlier, surrounded by walkers, he’d thought that was it for him. He was going to lead the dead away and give Aaron enough time to make it out, to make it back to Alexandria where he could continue doing what he did best — bringing salvation to those who needed it.

He’d made peace with his decision.

And as he’d grabbed the door handle, moments away from pushing into the raging swarm, he’d only been thinking one thing —

Just let her be okay.

For some reason, he’d been given a second chance and all he wanted was to see her again. It was nearly overwhelming, setting his nerves ablaze, sending his heart racing — it consumed him entirely, the thought of her.

He’d realized then what he should’ve known all along.

He’d never felt for anyone the way he felt for her.

Daryl finally found the others, all gathered in the center of town — but he barely had time to register what was happening when a single gunshot rang out.

Aaron and Morgan stood frozen beside him as they took in the scene — Rick had a gun in hand, the barrel pointed towards the ground, directly above Pete’s now-shattered skull. The crowd looked on in horror, huddled together near a dimly lit fire, eyes wide, mouths agape. Then he saw Reg — his throat sliced open, his body splayed out across Deanna’s lap, Michonne’s bloody katana lying beside him.

“Rick?” Morgan suddenly spoke, breaking the deafening silence that’d followed.

The sound drew Rick’s attention, his vacant eyes finding Morgan’s — but Daryl’s gaze drifted, meeting hers instead.

His stomach dropped when he saw her — she had one hand pressed against her cheek, blood trickling out from between her fingers, her face frozen in disbelief.

Daryl moved towards her, the rest of the world fading away.

Just let her be okay.

Y/N’s expression shifted as he neared, the apprehension that’d marred her features melting, turning into relief despite her ashen complexion and the chaos surrounding them. She absently shook her head back and forth, opening her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

The archer came to a stop in front of her, his own voice lost somewhere deep inside his chest. So instead, he reached for her, very carefully, as though she’d been spun from glass. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and gently pulled her hand away from her face, revealing a gash that stretched across the entirety of her cheek.

The swell of rage that coursed through him felt red-hot, flushing his skin as he stared at the wound, his eyes glinting dangerously by the light of the fire.

“She caught the nasty end of Petey-boy’s backswing,” came Abraham’s gruff voice.

Daryl hadn’t even realized the man approached — he was too busy thinking up new ways to bring Pete back to life, all so he could shoot the dead prick dead all over again.

Abraham crouched down a few inches beside him, taking a closer look at Y/N’s injury before whistling softly. “Ya must be ridin’ the gravy train with biscuit wheels, lil’ lady. That sack a’ shit damn near took your eye out,” he drawled before glancing over at Daryl. “Don’t think she needs stitches — unless someone wants ta’ reincarnate Dr. Dickwad for a second opinion.”

Y/N attempted to huff a laugh, but the motion had her wincing, her features twisting in pain.

And Daryl had seen enough.

He grunted a gruff ‘I got it’, giving Abraham a nod of appreciation before taking Y/N by the elbow and maneuvering her away from the others, back onto the street.

She allowed him to guide her elsewhere, neither saying a single word.

The two houses Deanna had provided to the group had been split amongst the lot of them. Daryl chose to reside in the finished basement — it was small and dingy, but he didn’t mind. The room had a couch and a bathroom and was much nicer than any other place he’d ever stayed at — even before the end of times.

And right now, it was serving as a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N sat perched on the edge of the couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she watched Daryl barrel around the space like a rampant tornado. He grabbed whatever he could think of — the first aid kit stored beneath the bathroom sink, a bottle of water, a clean t-shirt to swap out for her blood-spattered one — before making his way back to her. He set the items down on the coffee table in front of the couch and took a seat on the edge of it, opposite her.

Still, neither spoke.

Daryl kept his eyes focused on the slash mark — that was much easier than acknowledging the absence of space between them. He unscrewed the cap to the water bottle, emptying a small amount onto a dry piece of gauze before leaning forward. Ever so slowly, he dabbed at the blood that’d dripped down her face and onto her neck, ignoring the near-palpable tension.

Y/N sat still as a statue, tilting her head back slightly as he wiped away the redness. But when he moved further up, nearing the wound, she flinched, hissing reflexively. Daryl snatched his hand back as if slapped, his eyes meeting hers, quietly apologetic.

She nodded for him to continue, taking a deep breath and balling her hands into fists atop her thighs.

The archer worked his jaw, lightening his touch.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that — all he knew was that when he was with her, nothing else really seemed to matter.

Luckily, the wound wasn’t as severe as it’d initially appeared — it was fairly shallow, faint towards the edges, and in time would heal completely. He wanted to tell her so, but the words wouldn’t formulate — the silence that’d stretched on felt untouchable.

So instead, Daryl focused on her hands, wiping away the blood that’d stained the grooves of her skin — and although she tried to conceal it, he could feel the slight tremble in her fingertips.

After he was done cleaning her hands, he sat back, his knee brushing against hers. He glanced up, flicking his hair away and studying the cut on her face — it’d stopped bleeding, though the edges were an angry-red, spiking his own temper once more. The collar of her shirt was soaked crimson, the color more muted in areas that’d already dried.

He hadn’t noticed the way their hands remained intertwined until Y/N squeezed softly, snapping him back to reality.

Daryl pulled his hand from hers and stood, grabbing the extra t-shirt off the table and dropping it into her lap. He scooped up the first aid kit before spinning around and stalking back towards the bathroom, giving her privacy as she began to change.

The archer avoided his reflection entirely, certain he’d see nothing but flushed skin and remorseful eyes. He squatted down, yanking open the drawer beneath the sink and tossing the kit inside. He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed onto the counter, his grip white-knuckled around the edge.

He needed to get a fucking hold of himself, that was for damn sure.

After regaining his composure, Daryl slammed the drawer shut with more force than necessary and pulled himself up in one swift motion.

But his entire body froze, his blood running ice-cold, when he noticed Y/N in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, standing in the doorway behind him.

Their eyes met through the glass before the archer twisted around, facing her head-on.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her head tilting to the side, the wheels in her mind visibly turning though her expression remained unreadable. She looked like she wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She inhaled a breath, opening her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut — and then something different flickered across her features, an expression he hadn’t seen before.

Daryl waited for her to speak, to finally break the prolonged quietness that’d carried on.

But then she was suddenly crossing towards him.

He didn’t realize what was happening until Y/N’s lips crashed against his.

It was as though a dam had broken open — every fleeting feeling, every moment of suppressed longing coming to a head after dancing around one another for so long. At first, Daryl’s entire body went numb, his brain scrambling to figure out just what in the hell was actually happening. His breath caught in his throat as he stiffened instinctually, years of touch deprivation and self-consciousness clawing their way to the surface, leaving him paralyzed against her.

But when Y/N pulled back, breaking away from the kiss, he found himself craving her in the spaces she’d filled.

Her eyes were wide, boring into his, her gaze a mixture of shock and awe that he was certain mirrored his own — like even she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She clung onto the collar of his shirt, the material balled in her fists.

Daryl’s chest heaved beneath her touch, his breathing syncing up with hers as they stared at one another, their noses only a few inches apart, each soaking the other in for what felt like the first time.

Something inside the archer fractured, right then and there. The wall he’d created inside his mind, the one designed to keep everyone at arm’s length, began to crumble. His guard fell to pieces, brick by brick, shattering at the very foundation he’d built it on.

And in its place…her.

Without any hesitation, Daryl slipped a hand behind Y/N’s neck and surged forward, closing the gap between them and bringing his lips to hers once more.

A soft gasp escaped her at first — one of surprise — the feel of it against his mouth sending a tingle down his spine before she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Her hands slid down his chest, snaking around his middle as she pressed herself against him with similar desperation.

He slid his hand up the back of her head, holding her in place as their lips parted, exploring each other with a deeper intensity. His fingers tangled throughout her hair, desperate to feel her in all of the ways he’d denied himself of, his other hand rising to gently cup the side of her face.

But when Y/N inhaled sharply, suddenly jerking back a fraction, Daryl’s eyes snapped open.

“Ow, fuck,” she hissed, her expression pinched.

“Shit,” the archer rasped, realizing then that his hand had brushed up against the cut on her cheek. “Ya alright?” he rumbled, pulling back further to get a better look.

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, her face lighting up in a way he’d never seen before. “Yeah,” she whispered hoarsely, her cheeks tinged pink, her lips red and slightly swollen.

Once again, Daryl found himself fighting to catch his breath.

He swallowed the thickness in his throat, carefully reaching forward and picking at a strand of hair that’d been swept out of place, tucking it behind her ear instead.

Y/N leaned into his palm, laying her hands against his chest, staring at him like she thought he’d hung the moon and painted the stars.

The look shifted into something deeper as she stepped back, ghosting her fingertips down each of his arms, his skin catching fire beneath her touch. She intertwined her hands around his calloused ones and began inching backward, slowly leading him out of the bathroom without another word.

The archer felt something stir deep inside him, a warmth settling in the pit of his stomach as she guided him towards the couch. He was entranced — like a man who’d been lost at sea for far too long, finally catching a glimpse of salvation from a lighthouse, beckoning him home.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t afraid.

Daryl flushed at the memory.

She still had that same damn effect on him. It didn’t matter how much time passed, how many years went by, he’d never tire of her. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to him.

He’d always felt out of place — even before the end. It was like everybody who’d ever lived was somehow born knowing the same song and dance — and yet there he’d been, stumbling along, fighting to catch up and fall in step with the rest of the world. It’d isolated him, made him feel weak and undeserving — like no matter how hard he tried, he’d never truly belong.

And now?

The only comfortable place his mind seemed to know was her.

Daryl fought back a wince, his entire body tensing up.

“Almost done,” Denise murmured as she continued stitching up the laceration on his back.

“Ya said that an hour ago,” the archer grumbled in response, grinding his teeth together.

“It definitely wasn’t an hour and you’re the one who refused the numbing cream, remember?” she countered evenly, her tone unwavering.

The archer merely huffed in response, fighting back a scowl as he gripped tightly onto the edge of the metal table he sat on top of. He ignored the feeling of Denise’s needle digging into his skin, closing up the knife wound he’d received back on the road, surveying the quieted house-turned-infirmary instead.

Rick was in the next room over, not having moved from Carl’s bedside since the survivors had taken Alexandria back from the dead. Glenn and Maggie were huddled together on the cot across the room while Michonne rocked Judith back and forth, exiting the infirmary with her a moment later. The others were gathered outside, recuperating after the long and harrowing fight that’d taken place mere hours ago.

And then there was Y/N — she sat on the floor beside his dangling legs, her head resting against the side of his knee, his vest laid out across her curled form. He could tell by her steady breathing and the way her head lolled every so often that she’d fallen asleep against him.

The entire community was running on little to no sleep, having fought through the night, taking on the herd that’d invaded their home — now, hundreds of bodies littered the streets, the wall that’d collapsed needed to be rebuilt, and those they’d lost during the attack needed to be buried.

Daryl glanced down when he heard a soft sigh, feeling his chest constrict as Y/N nestled closer.

She hadn’t strayed far since he’d returned and honestly, he wasn’t quite ready to be away from her either — especially after what happened on the road. Over the two days he was gone, he’d nearly lost his life on more than one occasion — and from what he'd heard, she’d nearly lost hers when the Wolves attacked.

But they were okay — she was okay — and that was what mattered.

Michonne reentered the infirmary a moment later, the exhaustion on her face mirroring his own. Judith, on the other hand, had fallen asleep in her arms, curled up against her chest, dark blonde wisps of hair sticking to her forehead.

“How’re you holding up?” Michonne asked softly as she approached the table, not wanting to wake Judith — or Y/N, for that matter.

“Jus’ a scratch, is all,” Daryl rumbled in response, peeking over his shoulder at Denise who remained focused on the wound.

Michonne nodded, rubbing small circles against Judith’s back. “I sent everyone home — Rosita and Heath are keeping watch where the wall came down. We’ll clear the dead once everyone gets some rest.”

“Alright,” Daryl rasped, a bone-deep tiredness beginning to seep in.

Before leaving, Michonne paused, looking down at Y/N’s sleeping form. When she glanced back up, her expression had shifted into something softer, something less tense. “She’s good for you,” she suddenly murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You deserve that,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing his hand, still latched around the edge of the table.

Daryl’s hand flexed beneath hers as he glanced down at the top of Y/N’s head — did he really deserve someone like her?

He’d spend the rest of his life wondering that.

Michonne patted the top of his hand before pulling away, disappearing into Carl’s room without another word, Judith still fast asleep against her.

“Alrighty,” Denise exhaled, drawing him back to the present. “You, my friend, are free to go.”

The archer grunted a gruff ‘thanks’ as she began cleaning up the supplies she’d used to stitch him up. He bit back a grimace as he pulled his shirt over his head, feeling the stitches stretch as he moved.

He reached forward then, gently ruffling the top of Y/N’s head, stirring her awake. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes before craning her neck and looking up, her bleary gaze meeting his. “All done?” she murmured, her voice slightly croaky.

“Mhm,” he sounded, sliding off the table and offering his hand to her.

The corner of her mouth quirked up as she grabbed it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She swayed, fighting back a yawn, Daryl’s hand finding the small of her back and steadying her. Wordlessly, she held out his vest, which he slowly slipped back on, grinding his teeth together as a sharp jolt of pain shot across his shoulder.

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she watched him, her eyes narrowing — but before she could comment, Denise approached once more.

“Change the gauze in a couple of hours and take two of these for the pain,” she informed, holding out a small bundle of supplies, including fresh bandages and pills. “Doctor’s orders."

But Daryl waved her off. “Save ‘em,” he grumbled, carefully adjusting his vest.

He saw Y/N throw him a glance from the corner of his eye, though she didn’t protest — instead, she stepped forward and held her hand out.

Denise passed the supplies to her before lifting her glasses and rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, her fingertips stained red with blood. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous for a few days or he’ll tear the stitches,” she continued, speaking solely to Y/N as she set her glasses back in place.

Daryl huffed a breath. “M’ standin’ right here, ya know.”

Y/N nudged him in the ribcage, giving him a look that clearly translated to ‘be nice’.

Denise directed her attention back to the archer. “Don’t tear my stitches,” she reiterated emphatically before her expression eased. “Rest, relax, sleep — both of you.” She shot Y/N a pointed look before shooing them towards the front door, heading over to check in with Glenn and Maggie.

Y/N glanced over at Daryl once they were alone, her eyebrow quirking playfully. “I like this new side of Denise.”

The arched scoffed in response, flicking the hair from his face. “I liked it better when she was scared a’ me,” he grumbled as they fell in step, making their way out of the infirmary and back outside.

A laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips as they crossed over the porch. “Sounds about right,” she grinned, thoroughly amused.

“S’ true,” he shrugged his uninjured shoulder up as they made their way down the stairs and back onto the street.

“You know, you really aren’t that sc—”

Y/N stopped mid-sentence, her footsteps halting abruptly. Daryl faltered as well, glancing back at her, his brow knitting together. Before he could ask what was wrong, he realized what she was looking at.

In the light of day, the aftermath of the attack was startling. There were more bodies than he could count, rotted and decaying, bones torn through skin, blood spilling out onto the street, stark against the asphalt. The carnage was overwhelming, the reality of what they’d accomplished, as well as what they’d almost lost, suddenly settling in.

“We’ll fix this place up — make sure nothin’ like this ever happens again,” Daryl rasped, not entirely certain if he was trying to reassure her or himself.

Y/N’s expression turned solemn. “It’s not the dead I worry about,” she fixed him with a stare, her gaze flickering towards the wound on his back before she continued surveying the damage done to their community.

There wasn’t anything he could say that would make her feel better — not in a world as dark and void and meaningless as the one they lived in.

The only thing he could do was just be there.

Daryl reached for her, slipping his hand around hers and squeezing softly, drawing her back to him.

Although Y/N kept her eyes forward, he felt the tension leave her.

And then she squeezed back.

The archer huffed a breath, nestling the side of his thumb between his teeth.

Well, maybe the world wasn’t entirely meaningless.

Daryl stood still beneath the shower head, warm water washing over his body.

But he couldn’t focus on that — all he could focus on was Y/N, standing behind him, her arms wrapped around his middle, her bare chest pressed against his back. He closed his eyes, committing the feeling to memory — her heart steadily pounding against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder as water continued to cascade down their bodies.

She pulled back slightly, gently pressing her lips against one of the scars on his back.

Daryl felt a chill run down his spine despite the steam around him, fighting back the instinctual urge to stiffen — and as she moved to the next scar and the next, softly kissing each one, he couldn’t help but melt beneath her touch.

He turned then, feeling the tips of his ear redden at the sight of her before he quickly averted his gaze.

Y/N laughed, soft and sweet, reaching towards him and brushing the hair from his face.

Daryl caught her hand with his own, pressing her palm flat against the curve of his jaw. The cut on her cheek had healed, leaving only a faint, thin line below her eye. His own knife wound was still fresh, but in time, would heal as well.

He brought his hand up and gently brushed his thumb across the length of the mark before tilting her head back, bringing his lips to hers.

He wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from — still, Y/N returned the kiss, her arms snaking around his neck, his around her waist.

It wasn’t until the water began to run cold that Daryl, begrudgingly, turned the shower off.

They moved about in comfortable silence — drying off, changing into clean clothes, completing eerily normal and mundane tasks that had the archer wondering if he’d somehow transported into an alternate reality without realizing it.

But the blood and muck that’d washed off their bodies and collected at the bottom of the tub reminded him otherwise.

It’d taken three whole days to clear Alexandria of all the walkers that’d infiltrated their walls. Now, they could start rebuilding, reinforcing, doing whatever they needed to do to make sure an attack like that never happened again.

Daryl climbed into the bed he shared with Y/N, having moved up from the basement and into her room after that first night they’d spent together. He winced as he rotated his shoulder — despite Denise’s instructions to limit arduous activity, he’d worked the past three days from sun up to sun down in removing all the bodies from within the gates.

Y/N had tried to get him to take it easy, but he hadn’t — that just wasn’t in his nature.

She crawled into bed after him, sighing softly as she settled by his side, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her. She held her hand out towards him and in her palm, two pills — he recognized them as the ones Denise had given her.

Daryl huffed a breath.

“Don’t make me say ‘please’,” she warned, raising her brow expectantly.

The archer fought back the urge to roll his eyes but took the pills anyway, popping them into his mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water he’d left by the bedside. Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she laid down, curling onto her side, facing away from him.

He reached over, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her towards him, eliciting a surprised laugh from her. She nestled closer, her back pressed against his chest, one hand clasped around his forearm, drawing absent circles against his skin with her thumb.

Daryl felt himself fading, slipping into unconsciousness after a long, tiring day of survival.

But just before the world darkened entirely, a whisper broke through the quiet.

“I love you.”

The archer’s eyes snapped open. Part of him wondered if Y/N was sleep-talking. An even bigger part of him figured he’d imagined it because there was no way — no way in hell — she could’ve consciously and deliberately said that to him.

But then she was shifting, rolling onto her back and looking up at him.

He searched her gaze for something, anything — a punchline, an explanation, a ‘hah, fooled ya!’ — that would explain what in the fuck he’d just heard.

Except that didn’t happen.

Instead, Y/N slowly nodded, like she was finally coming to terms with her own blatantly impromptu confession. “Yeah, I-I do — I —” she fumbled slightly in her admittance before steadying. “I love you,” she murmured, blinking up at him.

Daryl swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind screaming at him to say something instead of just staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. He could feel the words toying at the tip of his tongue — he wanted to say it, he did, because…well, of course. Of course, he wanted to. But it was like his body was physically rejecting a response.

Y/N patiently watched him struggle, giving him a second to get his shit together, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips.

The archer pushed up onto his elbow, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red. “I, uh,” he grumbled, shaking his head slightly. “Y-Yeah, I —” he faltered, clearly struggling. But when his baffled gaze met her kind one, almost instantly, his wall of insecurity diminished. “Yeah,” the single word came out resolute and sure, everything he needed her to hear.

Y/N’s smile grew, stretching across her face, bright enough to light the sky on fire. “Yeah?” she asked softly, reading between the lines.

Daryl nodded once. “Yeah,” he rasped thickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world — because it was.

He’d felt that way since the day he met her, even if he hadn’t known it.

She reached up, twisting her fingers in his hair and bringing his face down to meet hers, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips.

Then she was curling onto her other side so they laid chest to chest, her head tucked beneath his chin as she snuggled closer, his arms wrapping around her instinctually.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long they laid like that, limbs weaved around one another like coiled rope. But when her breathing evened out, he pulled back and snuck a glance, tracing every inch of her face as though the first time and the last. He brought his hand to her face, carefully brushing back the hair that’d swept over her features before leaning in and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

Then sleep came for him as well.

Daryl dropped his hand back into his lap, drawing his legs to his chest.

Being with Y/N was effortless — as easy as breathing. It came, somewhat alarmingly, natural to him. He’d never pictured himself with anyone ever. Before the end, before her, he’d been content to sit on the sidelines and watch all the relationships around him undoubtedly burn — it was all he’d ever known, it was all he’d ever seen.

But then she came along and flipped his entire world upside down.

A love that came without warning.

“Let’s get this shit loaded up — looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” Daryl rumbled, peering up at the darkening sky, noticing a cluster of bulbous clouds rolling in.

Y/N tilted her head back, following his gaze before humming a breath. “I don’t know — the wind’s blowing East. It might just miss us,” she remarked, catching the archer’s eye, a mischievous look flashing across her features. “Wanna make a bet?”

Daryl scoffed a breath in response, shutting the car trunk filled with scavenged supplies and adjusting the strap of the rifle slung across his chest — he was still getting used to the weapon. It felt unfamiliar in comparison to the weight of his crossbow. The reminder of his stolen weapon sent a flush of anger through his veins. He’d find those assholes someday and get it back, that was for damn sure.

“Come on,” Y/N grinned, drawing him back as she hefted another box over to him, dropping it onto the ground with a huff. “How about this? If it rains…I’ll take your watch shift tonight with Elizabeth.”

The archer quirked a brow, suddenly intrigued. Elizabeth was one of the original members of Alexandria — and she was…chatty. “Fine,” he nodded, opening the car door and lobbing the box she’d brought over onto the backseat. “She’s always yappin’ ‘bout books an’ shit I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout. Damn irritatin’ sometimes,” he grumbled.

Y/N laughed at his aggravation, turning to pick up another box. “I like her,” she shrugged, making her way towards him.

Daryl huffed a breath, waving her off. “Alright an’ if it doesn’t rain? What’d ya want?” he questioned, taking the box from her hands and sliding it into the car.

Before she had the chance to respond, Rick suddenly appeared, pushing through the front doors of the high school they’d been scavenging — it’d been turned into a FEMA evacuation center right at the beginning of the end. It’d somehow, miraculously, been left untouched — the doors and windows had been barred and chained, but luckily they’d had the tools needed to break in.

It’d been a little over a month since Alexandria had been overrun with the dead — the wall had been rebuilt and fortified, but the survivors had been hesitant to venture outside the gates after what happened the last time. Regardless, supplies were dwindling and a run had to be made.

“How’s it comin’ along out here?” Rick called as he jogged down the front steps and into the parking lot.

“Filled up the trunk pretty good — gonna need another car or two jus’ ta’ fit the rest a’ this shit,” Daryl remarked as the sheriff approached, motioning to the rest of the unpacked boxes lying around.

Rick came to a stop in front of them, one hand resting on top of the handle of his pistol strapped around his waist. “This is good — this is real good,” a rare smile spread across his face, so unlike the usual tension in his features.

“Tara’s finishing up around back — she’s grabbing the rest of the stuff from the greenhouse,” Y/N relayed to Rick, sharing a hopeful look with the archer. “We’ve got enough stuff to last us, I don’t know, at least another couple of months — that’ll be enough time to get some crops growing, maybe even a garden or two.”

Rick huffed a laugh in disbelief, shaking his head. “Who would’a thought,” he mused to himself before taking a breath. “Alright, I’m gonna grab a few last things inside an’ then we’ll lock up — come back tomorrow with a couple a’ cars an’ clean this place out.”

The sheriff left without another word, leaving Daryl and Y/N alone once again.

He began rearranging the boxes in the backseat, making sure there was enough room for two people to sit there on the way back home.

“A date,” Y/N suddenly spoke, catching him off guard.

Daryl straightened, turning back around to look at her, his brow knitting together. “Huh?”

The corner of Y/N’s mouth quirked up as she took a step towards him. “If I win, if it doesn’t rain today…I want you to take me on a date.”

The archer tilted his head to the side, trying to distinguish if she was joking or not. “Ya serious?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, a sort of awkward laugh slipping past her lips. “I know it’s stupid — and given the way you’re looking at me right now, I know you’re thinking the same thing,” she laughed again as he quickly erased the skepticism from his expression. “But that’s —” she shrugged a shoulder up, “— that’s what I want.”

Daryl scratched the side of his head, flicking the hair from his face as he studied her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the car. “That really what ya want?”

“Mhm,” she sounded. “And it doesn’t have to be anything special — just us and, I don’t know…maybe Aaron can whip up some of his famous spaghetti,” a soft smile grew on her face as she looked at him. “I, uh — I just — I want to do this right, you know?” her expression turned earnest. “I want those moments with you, Daryl.”

The archer felt a swell of warmth spread throughout him as he looked at her, feeling his resolve give way. “Alright,” he managed to rasp, his throat tight with emotion.

“Alright,” Y/N reiterated with a nod, sticking her hand out, a playful look in her eye.

Daryl snorted a laugh as he reached out and grasped her hand with his own, shaking once to seal the deal.

Y/N shot him a cheeky grin as she pulled from his grip. “We should —”

“Guys?” Tara’s voice suddenly sounded, drawing their attention.

Daryl knew as he pushed off the car, as he turned around that something was very wrong — he could hear it in her tone.

It took a moment for him to fully register the scene before him — a wide-eyed Tara just a few feet away, standing straight as an arrow, holding her hands up near her head.

Then he spotted a man.

The stranger stood just behind Tara, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other holding a gun, the barrel pressed against her temple. He was young, maybe early twenties, though it was hard to tell with all of the blood coating his skin. He peered over Tara’s shoulder, his frantic gaze bouncing wildly back and forth between the archer and Y/N.

Daryl’s protective instinct kicked in as he took a step forward, drawing the man’s attention, keeping Y/N out of his line of fire. His hand automatically reached for the rifle strapped around him but his movements stilled when the man’s eyes widened, his arm tightening around Tara’s neck.

“Hey, take it easy,” Daryl held out his hands in front of him.

“Move,” the man growled, jerking his head to the side. “Away from the car.”

Daryl felt Y/N grab a fistful of material from his shirt, slowly pulling him back as the man moved towards them, keeping Tara in front of him to conceal his body.

A tense standoff of sorts stretched on as they maneuvered around, the man never taking his eyes off of Daryl. When the stranger made it to the driver’s side of the car, he unwound his arm from around Tara’s neck, using it to open the door instead — though his finger remained twitching above the trigger. Once the door was opened, he faltered, realizing he’d lose the coverage of Tara’s body if he tried to get inside.

“Take it,” Y/N suddenly spoke, stepping out from behind Daryl with her hands near her head, drawing the man’s attention.

The archer shot her a sharp glance. “Y/N —”

“Take the car, take the supplies, take whatever you need,” she continued calmly, ignoring Daryl’s growled protest. “Just let her go, okay? No one’s here to hurt you.”

The stranger’s expression shifted, the animalistic look on his face shifting into something that resembled more of a quiet desperation than anything else. “I —“ he shook his head quickly, shifting back and forth. “I just need — I just need to go — I need to go.”

Y/N took another step forward, the side of her arm brushing against Daryl’s. “Okay,” she nodded, exhaling a breath. “That’s okay — just let our friend go and —”

Her sentence was interrupted by the front door of the school swinging open.

Daryl whipped his head around, feeling his stomach drop when he spotted Rick walking out with a stack of boxes — but when the sheriff noticed the standoff happening just down the steps, the boxes came crashing down, falling out of his hands, and instead…he grabbed his pistol.

It was as though everything happened in slow motion.

The stranger’s expression twisted as his sights set in on Rick — he swung the barrel of his gun away from Tara, who instantly dropped to the ground as the man pointed the weapon up the steps, and then…

A barrage of gunfire sounded as Rick and the man began shooting at one another in rapid succession. The sheriff used the front door as a shield, attempting to fire from around the frame, the awkward angle throwing off his aim. The stranger, on the other hand, fired away in no particular direction — his aim was erratic and panicked as he tried using the car door as coverage.

When a bullet flew past the side of Daryl’s head, he dove towards Y/N. He knocked her off her feet and onto the pavement, attempting to take cover from the shootout. The archer flipped onto his back, fumbling for his rifle before finally getting a grip and pointing it at the man.

But before he could take a shot, the stranger threw himself into the car, slamming the door shut, bullets from Rick’s pistol embedding into the metal. He peeled recklessly out of the parking lot, still firing from out of the opened window as he made his getaway.

Despite one of the back tires exploding after getting hit with a stray bullet, the stranger kept driving, disappearing onto the main road and out of sight, leaving a wake of destruction in his path.

“What the fuck?” Tara called from where she’d taken cover.

“Is everybody alright?” Rick yelled back, coming out from behind the door and running down the steps.

Daryl twisted onto his side, looking over at Y/N. “Hey, ya alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” she murmured shakily, pushing up onto her hands and knees. “I’m okay.”

The archer let out a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet and surveying the damage done around them as Rick appeared at his side.

“What an asshole,” Tara swore, coming to a stand as her eyes bounced between Rick, Daryl, and Y/N. “Seriously, what kind of —”

Daryl looked over at her, waiting to hear the rest — but that was when he noticed her staring at something just behind him, the horrified expression on her face filling him with a vast and all-consuming sense of dread.

The archer spun around.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, swaying unsteadily, her hand pressed tightly against the center of her stomach. Her head was lowered, bowed to her chest as she slowly pulled her trembling hand away, revealing a stark redness pooling from her midsection, staining the front of her shirt. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his, the shock in her gaze surely mirroring his own.

“No,” Daryl whispered, the word sounding strangled in his throat as Y/N’s knees suddenly began to give out. “No!” he roared, rushing forward and grabbing onto her before she could collapse.

His arms slipped around her middle before he carefully lowered her onto the ground, her head drooping down against his shoulder. His heart pounded so violently against his ribcage, part of him wondered if it was giving out on him entirely — maybe it was. Maybe this was what dying felt like. Maybe this was what it felt like to have your soul ripped straight out of your body.

Daryl cradled the back of Y/N’s head with one hand as he laid her down flat against the pavement, her eyes wide and unseeing, staring straight up at the sky. “Hey, hey, look a’ me, jus’ look a’ me,” he urged, brushing the hair back from her face, ignoring the blood now staining his hands — her blood.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” she mumbled, repeating it over and over again as though she could will it to be true — though her skin grew more ashen with each minute that slipped by.

Rick suddenly kneeled on the opposite side of Y/N, taking a piece of cloth and holding it against the wound. “Keep pressure on it,” he instructed Daryl and although he tried to conceal it, the archer could hear the way his voice wavered. “You jus’ hold on, Y/N, understand? We’re gonna get you outta here,” he promised, reaching down and squeezing one of her hands before disappearing.

Daryl watched him leave, dragging a teary-eyed, slack-jawed Tara along with him as they began frantically searching the abandoned parking lot for any working vehicles — it was their only chance at getting her back to Alexandria.

And if they didn’t…

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

Instead, he pressed the cloth against the gunshot wound, attempting to stall the blood flow, the pressure eliciting a pained whimper from Y/N that almost made the contents of his stomach reappear. “I got ya, Y/N, I got ya,” he rasped, grabbing her limp hand with his own and intertwining their fingers, holding his other hand firmly against her stomach.

His words seemed to bring her back to him, her hollow gaze shifting into one of panic — like she only just realized what was happening. Her features crumpled, a flash of fear skirting across her face as the shock began to wear off. “Am — am I dying?” she managed to choke out, her eyes filling with unshed tears as she looked up at him.

“No,” he shook his head resolutely, feeling moisture build in the corners of his own eyes. “No, ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear me?” his grip tightened around her hand — like his touch alone could keep her there with him. “We’re gonna get ya back ta’ Alexandria an’ — an’ get ya patched up, good as new, alright? Ya jus’ gotta hang on for me, girl.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered as a tear snaked down the side of her face. “I-I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, a sob hitching in her throat.

“Hey, it’s gonna — ya gonna — jus’ — Rick!” Daryl suddenly bellowed, sitting back on his haunches and desperately scanning the area for any sign of him or Tara. He spotted them at the opposite end of the parking lot, running from car to car, searching for keys or at least a way to jumpstart one of the abandoned vehicles.

But luck was not seeming to be on their side.

Daryl let out a vicious string of curses before focusing back on Y/N. He’d never felt so helpless in his entire life — and God, if he could, he’d take her place in a second.

She was fading — fading so rapidly it made him dizzy. Her skin was cold to the touch, her lips tinged a disturbing shade of blue, her eyes lacking the warmth he was so used to seeing. He felt a swell of emotion rise in his throat, threatening to consume him, but he shoved it down.

“Hey, y-you were right,” she murmured weakly, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she tilted her head to look up at the sky once more. “I think it’s gonna rain.”

Daryl felt a tear spill down his cheek as he followed her eye line, the previously blue sky now blanketed with thick, dark clouds. He huffed a humorless laugh, their conversation from a few minutes earlier ringing through his mind, somehow seeming like an entire lifetime ago. “Guess that means ya — ya gotta take watch tonight, right?” he rasped despondently, keeping his gaze towards the sky.

He stilled when he was met with nothing but a deafening silence.

He felt his stomach roll as he squeezed his eyes shut, afraid of what he'd see if he looked down. “Y/N?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

When she didn’t respond, Daryl knew.

She was gone.

His girl was gone.

And his entire world came crashing down around him.

Daryl forced his eyes open.

His body went numb at the sight of her, his mind refusing to accept the image before him — empty eyes, grey flesh, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her hand slipped from his grasp then, dropping onto the pavement beside her unmoving form as she continued staring vacantly up at the sky.

His brain couldn’t process what was happening — where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. It felt like a nightmare — a reality that wasn’t quite reality, warped and desolate and consuming him whole. The only tangible thing he felt was a sharp, physical pain in the center of his chest, his breaths short and hitched, causing black spots to dance in his vision.

Over the blood rushing to his ears, he could just barely make out the sound of a car engine, the noise muted and dull as it approached…

But it was too late.

They were too late.

Daryl reached for her hesitantly, hands trembling as he wound his arms beneath her back and carefully scooped her up off the ground, falling back slightly as he pulled her body across his lap. When her head lolled listlessly to the side, he brought his hand up, brushing his bloodstained fingers through her hair before cradling the back of her head, pressing his cheek against hers.

“Ya said —” he squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth as his grip around her lifeless body tightened. “Ya said ya were okay,” he choked out brokenly, his own shock slowly wearing off as something deep inside his soul fractured.

Then he broke.

And the sky opened up and wept alongside him.

The sound of barking drew Daryl back to reality.

He glanced over his shoulder, quickly blinking away the tears that’d formed, spotting Dog trotting towards him. The German Shepard’s tongue hung lazily out of his mouth, his easy pace picking up the closer he neared, letting out another short bark.

Daryl rumbled a laugh as Dog came to a halt at his side, plopping down next to him. “Hey, boy,” he rasped softly, scratching behind his dog’s ear and earning a sloppy lick in return He wiped away the moisture from his cheek as the canine laid down beside him with a huff. “Good, Dog.”

The archer ran his fingers through his sleek fur, feeling his throat tighten. When he’d found the German Shepard a few years back, he’d remembered the conversation with Y/N from back at the prison — and it’d only felt right to name him ‘Dog’.

It’s what she would’ve wanted — and somehow, it made him feel just a little bit closer to her.

“Man, she would’a loved ya,” he whispered thickly, sighing a long and heavy breath.

Daryl looked forward once more, studying the small gravestone in front of him — her gravestone.

For a long time, he stayed away. He hadn't been able to go near where she'd been laid to rest, he just couldn’t — it was too fucking painful, like part of himself had been buried right along with her. But over time, the grief became easier to manage — it never went away, it'd never go away — but he found a way to exist alongside it.

Now, he found a strange sort of peace here.

It’d been years since he’d lost her — she’d been gone for longer than he’d known her. It was hard to keep track of time these days, they seemed to come and go without rhyme or reason. So much had happened since that day — the war against the Saviors, the looming threat of the Whisperers, losing friends, family, Rick…

Time seemed to move differently after losing the people loved most.

After that day at the high school, Daryl had tried to find the man responsible for what happened to Y/N — he’d gone back to the high school, wild and unhinged in his grief, hellbent on retracing their steps and tracking down the stranger. He’d needed revenge, bloodshed, he’d needed the man to know what he’d done, who he’d taken from the world.

Despite the improbability, the archer had no trouble finding him.

The back tire that had been blown out during the exchange of gunfire had sent the car careening down an embankment and into a large tree less than a mile from the school. One of the branches had broken through the windshield and punctured the man’s chest, most likely killing him on impact.

He’d reanimated still strapped in the driver’s seat.

Daryl left him that way.

It wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for, but maybe it was the ending he deserved.

He reached down, absently stroking the top of Dog’s head, and inhaled a deep breath.

Not a single day went by without the thought of her.

She came and went — like a flash of light or the beat of a heart. Daryl had barely had any time to hold onto her before she was gone — and he would’ve held her so much tighter had he known it’d be the last chance he’d have.

Some people were just too bright to stay, too good for what the world had become — at least that’s what he told himself on the really dark days.

The archer closed his eyes, imagining her at his side — sometimes if he sat like that for long enough, he could almost hear her voice, her laugh, he could almost feel her warmth, her touch — and it was like she was still there, sitting right beside him.

It wasn’t the same, but it was enough — at least until he could be with her once more.

Daryl opened his eyes, peering up at the vast night sky, and released the breath he’d been holding.

Someday, he’d find his way home again.

Fin.

A/N: ...hi...how y'all doin'? lol

So yeah, this is a lot to unpack. If you've made it to the very end, THANK YOU! I know this was a super-dee-duper-long oneshot but hopefully (heartbreak and all) it was worth it.

Most of this story was purely self-indulgent - I mean, come on, who doesn't want this kind of love? But aside from that, I also wanted to write a relationship for Daryl that felt authentic and true to his character (*cough cough* definitely not throwing shade at 10.18...nope...not at all...lol)

What also made this story super fun was the fact that I was able to incorporate other characters from over the course of the series! (Even though he's only in it for .2 seconds, Abraham is probably my personal favorite lol I'd never written for him before, and damn, is it fun!)

I also like the little 'twist' at the end when we realize that in the present parts of the story, he's been hanging out at the reader's grave the entire time, reminiscing. Ow, that hurts my heart.

After writing this for months, I was the last person who wanted to see the story end like this. I honestly grew super attached to this relationship and part of me contemplated ending it on more of a 'happy' note...or as 'happy' as you can get with a show like this one. But this was the ending I'd envisioned from the beginning. We got to experience a Daryl x Reader relationship from the very start to the very end. No open-ended questions, no 'what ifs'.

And I think that's sorta beautiful.

P.S. Feedback is incredibly important. I write for my own happiness, but I also write for YOU. So don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or leave a comment with your thoughts! It truly motivates me and helps move along the writing process. Also, please consider donating to my Tip Jar. Every little bit helps!

P.S.S. I can no longer tag people on this account, so my tag list has been transferred to my side blog @crossbowking2. If you'd like to be added/removed, please let me know!

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redwinterroses · 4 years ago

Note

for requests how about: impulse, encountering some or all of the day one crew and getting Very Uneasy because oh shit, the 3rdlife memories are coming back hard

Hey! Sorry this took me SO long to finish. It was a hard one to write because between you asking this (I think?) and now, Impulse had that whole encounter with Bdubs on the path and I was like "Well I don't want to just write that" and then Cleo showed up? And I haven't ever written her before (except for a few lines in another hero, another mindless crime) so I had to go watch a ton of vids and streams and--

okay. Excuses over. Please enjoy this little "Impulse has a bad time but Friends Are Good" drabble. <3

~~~

Sweet Dreams

The Crastle was bigger than he remembered. Had this hallway always been here? This doorway? This arch that led to another hall…which branched and spiraled and led up stairs and down Escherian ramps in a labyrinth of stone walls and a floor dotted with pressure plates?

Impulse found himself running, breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he dashed down the halls, throwing open doors and darting around corners, leaping over the pressure plates—someone was chasing him.

They were coming for him, glowing red eyes and white teeth—fangs—glinting in the shadows. And over all, the ever-louder beat:

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It pounded in his ears, deafening, and he stumbled to cower against a wall, hunching with his arms over his head, trying in vain to drown it out. But no—no, it was even louder now, thumping so close it rattled his teeth, and he looked down to see blood spreading across his shirt and at the center where his heart should be: a golden clock embedded in his chest.

“They gave me a clock, Impulse.”

His head snapped up. Bdubs, eyes blank and red like two burning embers, stared down at him, no expression on his grey face.

“Ride or die?” Cleo’s voice came from behind him, and Impulse spun to see her glaring down the length of a crossbow, her eyes as scarlet and expressionless as Bdubs’. “How about… die.”

She fired the crossbow, the bolt exploding into flames that swarmed toward Impulse’s face—

He shot upright in bed, gasping for air. He swallowed hard, rubbing his chest as he gradually caught his breath. His heart pounded so loudly that for one horrible moment he thought it might really have been replaced with a bloody golden clock.

But no. Around him, the night was cool and dark, the silence of the Boatem village broken only by the faint rattling of a distant skeleton and the lowing of cows.

Just a dream. Just a nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Impulse slumped back against his pillows, flopping one arm over his eyes and letting out a long, shuddering sigh in the darkness. It had been months since they’d moved on from the 3rd Life server, months of good times and laughter and the excitement of new projects and builds… and yet at night, when the voices of his friends faded away and Impulse was left alone with himself—he found himself back. Time and again, his sleeping mind returned to the Crastle, or to Dogwarts, or to the sandy dunes of the Red Desert. And inevitably, he found himself face to face with nightmare versions of his day-one crew: Bdubs and ZombieCleo, red-eyed and vengeful.

“I never betrayed them,” he muttered to the darkness. “Never.”

So why did he feel guilty?

Well. If he was honest with himself… it wasn’t really guilt. Or it was, but not because of anything he’d done in 3rdLife—no, the guilt he felt was because the primary emotion associated with Bdubs and Cleo in his dreams was fear.

These were his friends! Being afraid of them went against every instinct he had, every good memory and inside joke and shared experience. And that was a different world anyway—different rules, different lives. It didn’t change anything here on Hermitcraft.

And yet…

And yet when he saw that clock on Bdubs’ belt the other day, or when he’d come up out of the mines that first morning in Boatem and Cleo had been standing right there, Impulse hadn’t been able to suppress the rising wave of panic that swept over him. Panic over being caught in his web of lies, panic that he might hurt the only people he trusted, panic that they didn’t trust him—

Enough was enough. He needed to get past this; he couldn’t spend the rest of the season (the rest of his life?) having anxiety attacks whenever he encountered any of the other Crastle crew members. Talking with Bdubs on the trail had helped, but… he hadn’t seen Cleo since the first days of the server.

That needed to change.

Impulse threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, padding down the stairs to the main level of his house. Grabbing his communicator from where he’d left it atop the crafting bench, he tapped out two quick messages:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: hey, can we meet up and chat? Spawn egg, around noon?

He set down the communicator and turned to go to bed, but to his surprise, it buzzed with an immediate reply.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: everything alright?

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: yeah sure, I just |

Impulse stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then backspaced and started again:

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: not really. but it’s nothing major. just want to chat a few things over with you.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: Impulse it’s 3 in the morning. you wouldn’t be messaging if it wasn’t major. want to talk now?

He blinked. That… wasn’t the response he’d expected. He hesitated, finger hovering over the touch screen.

<impulseSV> you whisper to ZombieCleo: sure.

<ZombieCleo> ZombieCleo whispered to you: i'll come to you.

///

Impulse was waiting on the roof when Cleo arrived, swooping in with the dry rustle of elytra wings to land on the cobble-and-slabs rooftop.

He looked up at her with an automatic smile, but she didn’t even wait for a “hey” before plopping down beside him.

“Alright, Impulse,” she said, her brisk tone ordering, rather than inviting him to speak. “What’s going on?”

Pulling his knees into his chest, Impulse wrapped his arms around his legs, the cobblestone beneath him still radiating a bit of warmth from the day’s sun.

“I…” he let his voice trail off, not sure where to begin.

“Out with it.” Cleo held out her hand, palm up, as if waiting for him to drop something into it. “Spit it out. It’s not gonna get any better for stewing on it.”

This was a dumb idea. Impulse closed his eyes and, before he could talk himself out of it, let the words spill out in a rush:

“I keep having dreams. Nightmares. About being back… back there. At the Crastle, mainly. And, ah—” he chuckled nervously and opened his eyes, looking sideways at Cleo. “You and Bdubs are there. And you’re… mad. Yeah, you’re really mad. And you don’t trust me. And—" he took a deep breath. “I keep dreaming that you’re so mad you kill me.”

Cleo tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “But we didn’t. Well,” she corrected herself. “I didn’t.”

“I know, I know—it’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense, and I know that, but…” he swallowed, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I need to get it off my chest. Because even thought I know it’s not real, and I know this is an entirely different world, and I know that nothing from that server really changes anything, I can’t just… turn off what my brain does when I’m not paying attention to it. You guys are my friends and I’m getting real tired of feeling like I need to start running every time I see one of you. To be honest, sitting here right now even is making me antsy.”

Overhead, the stars continued on their paths in silence, and somewhere in the village a couple of sheep baa-ed at each other plaintively.

“Well. That’s… something. That’s certainly something, isn’t it.” Cleo was quiet for a moment, examining him. Impulse looked away, suddenly finding his fingernails deeply interesting.

“Impulse.”

She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, and he instinctively flinched away. Cleo raised both eyebrows at him this time, pulling her hand back—then deliberately replacing it, her fingers cool and firm through the thin fabric of his sleeve. “Impulse,” she repeated, her tone gentle but brooking no argument. “You… you know I’m not good at this stuff. But at the risk of getting in way over my pay-grade: we’re good. We’re your friends.” She gave him a shake. “We love you, you idiot. No amount of murdery games on another server gonna change that.”

Impulse gave a little laugh, pretending neither of them could hear the emotion that made his voice catch in his throat. “Wow, Cleo,” he said. “Love. Big word.”

“Bah.” She shoved him away, throwing her hands in the air. “I love everybody, you’re not special.” But there was a grin in her voice. “And anyway—why me? You’ve got a lotta nerve, Impulse, having nightmares about me killin’ you.”

“Hey, you were scary with that crossbow.”

“I was, wasn’t I.” Cleo sounded satisfied about that.

The knot in Impulse’s chest was slowly loosening, and he glanced over to see Cleo leaning back on her hands, staring up at the sky. The faintest tinge of pinkish-grey was starting to appear on the eastern horizon. The Boatem crew would be up and about soon—Grian in particular had a tendency to be up at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey—” Impulse said, lowering his voice again. “Um. Thanks. For swinging by. Sorry for being weird about all this.”

“Impulse if you start apologizing for being weird you’re never going to stop.” She made a face at him. “Because you’re very weird.”

“Thaaaanks.”

Cleo gave him an easy punch on the shoulder. “You know you adore me,” she said. “And if it makes you feel any better, I can promise you this: I will kill you again at some point, I’m sure. And it’ll have nothing at all, whatsoever, to do with Third Life: it’ll be because you deserve it.” She paused. “Or because I just want to.”

Somehow, out of all the things she could have said, a casual threat of violence was the thing that did the trick. Impulse laughed—out loud, for real, a genuine laugh that shook loose the tension in his shoulders and chased away the phantom of Cleo standing over him with a crossbow.

“Thanks, Cleo.”

Cleo stood, and patted him on the head, ruffling up his hair. “There’s the obnoxiously-cheerful Impulse I know and loath,” she teased. “Can’t have you being all maudlin over here—I’m the gloomy one on this server.”

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Impulse asked, smoothing down his hair and also standing.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. You know me—I don’t do the sleeping thing much. Too much work to do: graves to dig, bodies to—” she grinned darkly “—find. ‘S a lot for an entrepreneuring zombie like myself.”

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to it.” Impulse tried to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t entirely successful.

“Go to bed, Impulse,” Cleo laughed, activating her elytra. “And try to only have normal nightmares about me for a while. Ya know—ones where I’m properly zombie-terrifying, not this Crastle nonsense.”

“I’ll do my best.” He watched her fly off, and yawned again, this time wide enough to pop his jaw.

Alright. Let’s try this one more time. Sleep.

He left the roof and reentered his house, which suddenly felt much more cozy and far less empty and cold than it had when he’d first awakened. Sliding back under his blankets, he tugged them up around his ears and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Something exploded outside, and his eyes popped back open.

Maniacal laughter echoed over the hills of Boatem, and Impulse deliberately rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.

Tomorrow’s insanity would come soon enough. For now: sleep.

((sweet dreams, Impulse.))

#here have some impulse hc #as a treat. and because impy deserves it #redwinterwrites #sweet dreams #impulsesv #hermitcraft

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blackmissfrizzle · 4 years ago

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Sweatpants SZN (Angel Edition)

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!reader

Summary: Angel goes out dressed like a hoe. Inspired by this post about my frustration by the boys wearing jeans when they sleep.

Warnings: it’s long 3k worth 😬 and a whole lotta filth

A/N: Here’s another series for my Mayan men! I already have plans for Nestor, EZ, and Miguel.

A/N 2: Special dedication to @starrynite7114 thank you for always indulging me and being a wonderful friend

To check out more here’s my masterlist and if you want notifications here’s my taglist.

Photo cred: @starrynite7114

When you first found out that Angel sometimes wore jeans to sleep it boggled your mind. You were the type of girl that took off her bra, kick off her shoes, and take off your pants as soon as you got home. So, to see Angel sleeping in his jeans was lowkey traumatizing.

As a dutiful girlfriend (and also a partly selfish girlfriend) you bought Angel some gray sweatpants. You wanted him to be as comfortable as possible and looking good at the same time. What you didn’t count on was that everyone else could appreciate the goods.

You were pouring yourself a cup of coffee of when Angel came home. He’d left early this morning before you woke up. “I’m back, querida.” You could hear him setting down bags on the table.

“Good morn-ingg,” the cheerfulness dropped out of your voice when you saw what Angel was wearing. A plain white t-shirt that was getting too tight, because of all the working out he was doing which made him almost as cut as EZ and a pair of those damn gray sweatpants you had bought for him.

“What?” Angel asked, confused at your sudden change in mood. “Do I got something on my face or clothes?” He started swiping his face and body, trying to clean the imaginary dirt off him.

“Nah, you’re good. Did you really wear that to the store?” Angel was genuinely confused. He didn’t see anything wrong with his outfit. “Yeah. Does it not match or something?”

“You really went out like that without me?” It finally dawned on Angel. He heard hints of jealousy. He didn’t know why he didn’t hear it at first, because he was so used to asking this same question. Angel did his best to keep his smile to himself, you were gonna pop a gasket when he told you where he went after the grocery store. “Yeah, you were sleeping. I doubt you wanted me to wake you up to go to the store and Vicki’s place.”

You almost spit out your coffee when Angel mentioned Vicki’s place. “YOU WENT WHERE?!” Angel began putting up the groceries because if he didn’t, he would’ve burst out laughing at you. “Vicki’s. Bishop called when I was at the store and asked if I could drop some things over.”

He was fucking with you. He was avoiding eye contact with you for a reason. “Angel!” He stopped putting the cereal on top of the refrigerator and turned towards you. He didn’t even last thirty seconds of you staring at him before he started laughing. “Screw you, Angel!” It didn’t even bother him that you were angry, your jealousy was cute to him.

Too enraptured in aggressively washing out your mug, you didn’t notice Angel walking up on you until he wrapped his hands around your middle and rested his chin on your shoulder. “C’mon you can’t really be mad, can you? Remember I’m a grown man and can wear whatever I want.” He threw the line you used at him the many multiple times when he didn’t agree with the outfit of your choice.

Damn it! You couldn’t think of a great comeback. “Its not the same!” Angel’s laugh vibrated throughout your body. “Someone sounds jealous.” He sung into your ear. You elbowed him off of you and started putting up the rest of the groceries. “No! You not even all that cute to be doing all of that for.”

“Oh really?” He arched his eyebrow at you before he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Angel just made you eat your words. It was like you had a golden god standing before you and the only appropriate response would be to get on your knees to worship him. Thankfully, you had a modicum of dignity and only salivated at the man in front of you.

You were so spaced out that you allowed Angel to pick you up and set you on the counter. “What you staring at, baby?” Angel nudged his nose against yours then ran it along your neck.

“Nothing,” you pouted. Angel kissed your nose then your lips. “You sure?” He took one of your hands and ran it along his body. “Because it seems like you were appreciating my arms, my abs,” his voice got lower as your hand went lower, “my dick.” He emphasized the k. “You feel that? That��s all yours, mami. No need to be jealous, ok?”

“Okay.” You resigned your jealousy and tried to kiss Angel, but he pulled away from you. He reminded you of your agreement last night. No sex today until you and him were finished with cleaning the house, and he knew if he let you kiss him then he would end up fucking you right on the table.

Reluctantly you got up, but at least you were motivated to clean the house faster. Angel took on your shared bedroom and bathroom while you had the front of the house. There were stolen kisses between switches of cleaning supplies and smacks on the butt whenever you passed each other (which Angel pretended he didn’t like when you did it to him.)

You had just finished cleaning your part of the house when you finally allowed yourself to watch Angel cut the grass in the backyard. Grabbing two glasses of sweet tea, you went to stand in the doorway and watch Angel work. Even though they were gonna be trouble those grey sweatpants were a gift from god. They slung low enough on his hips that you could appreciated his Adonis belt. The sun beating down on him made him sweat and if it was possible you would pay an insane amount of money to be one of the sweat droplets rolling down his body.

He finally cut off the lawn mower and smiled at you perving at him. “Thank you,” he took the glass of sweet tea and chugged it down, some of it getting into his beard which made you think of other ways to get his beard wet. “All done cleaning?” He asked, backing you into the house. “Yeah,” you pulled him by the drawstrings until his phone started ringing. “Angel, no,” you whined, knowing it either wouldn’t be a short call or it would be call for him do club business.

Unfortunately, it was the latter. Angel apologized for the inconvenience and jumped in the restroom for a quick shower. Before he left, he apologized again and promised to make it up to you after the party at the clubhouse.

Angel dressing like a thot, being denied sex twice in one day, and being left alone to your own devices was not a good combination. You were doing a good job with keeping your brattiness tucked away, but when you were looking for an outfit for the party, your brattiness in the form of dark Kermit was bubbling up. In the end Kermit won.

As Angel predicted, you made it to the party before him and you were wearing the skirt, he specifically told you not to wear without him present. “Y/N, I’m begging you. Please, please go change.” The last time you wore something this risky at the clubhouse, Angel shoved you into EZ’s trailer and screwed you into tears on his bed. “Chill out, I brought my own car tonight. No one is going in your trailer.” That calmed him down only a tiny bit because he knew once his brother saw you, he was going to lose it.

“He’s gonna kill you, Y/N.” Gilly told you while glaring off anyone thinking of trying to talk to you. No one was gonna approach his friend’s girl while he was around. “The only thing he is gonna kill is,” EZ quickly interrupted you, “Please do not finish that sentence.”

Outside Angel and Coco had just arrived from across the border. “Hey man, y’all got some honeys down here.” Paul from the San Bernardino chapter ran up on them. Coco entertained him while Angel listened. He honestly hasn’t paid attention to any other women since you’ve came in your life. “Then there’s one chick, mannnnnnnn. If Gilly wasn’t acting like some damn guard dog I would’ve talked to her already.”

“Gilly got a girl?” Angel asked, opening the door. “Not to my knowledge.” Coco responded stepping in after his friend.

“Oh, there she is!” Paul pointed out to you talking to EZ and Gilly. “Man, it look like she got some good dick sucki-,” Abruptly Angel grabbed Paul by the collar. “I dare you to finish that fucking sentence.”

Paul saw the fire in Angel’s eyes, and he knew he made a big mistake. “Shit, Angel! My bad! I didn’t know she was your old lady. I won’t even look in her direction.”

“Keep it that way!” Angel pushed Paul away and made a beeline towards you. First, it was EZ that noticed him. Suddenly, the prospect was really into keeping the glasses clean. Then it was Gilly who walked away from you in mid conversation, leaving you confused until you felt the familiar mold of Angel’s body against. “You got ten seconds to walk to the backseat of your car or I’m throwing you over my fucking shoulder.” He whispered into your ear harshly while deceiving everyone else into thinking he was just giving you a hug and whispering sweet words in your ears.

The ten seconds started once he released you and you wasted no time. When Angel got like this it was better to shut up and listen. Angel ignored the ‘hellos’ and ‘what’s up, man’. He was on a mission and nothing would stop him. You were just about to open the car door when you noticed that your car was parked in front of the clubhouse. It was close enough for everyone to hear all the ungodly things Angel was about to do to you. “Aren’t you gonna move the car?” You asked when he was still behind you when you opened the back door. “Get in the got damn car,” he ordered through clenched teeth. You scrambled to get inside, from his tone you knew you didn’t want to press your luck. Once inside, Angel wasted no time. He folded you in half like a table, moved your panties to the side and dived in.

Usually when Angel ate you out, he’d warm you up. A kiss here, a kiss there, small slow torturous licks, but right now all that was thrown out the window. This was as brutal as to all the actual rough fucking he would do to you.

His teeth ran across your clit and it felt like he hit every single nerve. “Angel!” You shout out, reaching out to grab his hair, but he slapped your hand away. “Did I say you could touch my shit? Keep your hands to yourself.”

“But Daddyyy,” you whined, still making grabby hands. “What the fuck did I just say?” Angel grabbed ahold of your wrists in one hand and choked you with the other. “To keep my hands to myself.”

“Then do that shit,” he growled. He released you and went back to work. You had to settle for the handlebar by the window because Angel wasn’t easing up. In fact, he added two of his fingers furiously pumping into you. “Look at you creaming all over my fingers. You don’t even deserve them. What did I fucking tell you about this damn skirt?”

“Not to wear it.” You whimpered about to reach for his wrist, but then you remembered his warning to keep your hands to yourself. “Then you understand why daddy’s pissed. Especially when I got brothers from other chapters talking about how fine you are and how you got some good dick sucking lips.”

“I’m so sorry, daddy.” He hovered over you to give you a quick peck. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll make it up to me by screaming my name.”

Still keep his fingers in you, Angel suckled your bud. The combination of his cold rings in your heated core and his tongue flicking your clit, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. “ANGELLLL, FUCKKKKKKK!” You screamed, beating on the surprisingly strong window.

“Keep cumming.” Angel’s voice was muffled by your pussy in his mouth, but you heard him clearly.

Finally, you calmed down but now you were jonesing for Angel’s dick. You went for Angel’s belt but he back away from you as far as the car allowed you to. “Daddy, I need you to fuck me please.”

“I needed you to be a good girl and listen, but we all can’t get what we want.” Angel felt bad when he saw your dejected little face. He decided to give you a little something else also you didn’t say his name enough for him to let everyone know you belong to him. “If you promise to be a good girl, I’ll give you something to hold you over.”

“I promise, I’ll be good!” Angel laughed at how quickly you agreed to it. He slid your panties off and scooted you closer to him. He grind his clothed groin against your bare one. The friction of the fabric of his jeans on your sensitive clit had you on the verge of tears. “Nah, don’t start that shit,” Angel slapped you. “We still have a party to attend.” Was this man fucking crazy? He expected you to face everyone after this?

Angel proceeded to dry hump you as if he was actually fucking you. “Oh my god, Angel! Just like that. Keep fucking me just like that daddy.” He bent down and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Yeah? You gonna cum all on Daddy’s jeans like a good little slut, huh?”

“Yes, please. I need it so bad, daddy.”

“Ok, just for you.” Angel pressed down on your hips and pummeled into you. “Angel, Angel, Angel,” you chanted his name over and over again while you came for the second time in less than fifteen minutes.

Angel enjoyed your shuddering underneath him, but he couldn’t enjoy it for too long. You two had a party to get to. Taking your panties, he rolled them back up and then fixed your skirt. “When we get out of here you stand in front of me since you made a mess on my jeans, ok.”

“Ok,” Angel pulled you out of the car and smoothed out your clothes. While he did that you tried to clean his face since it was soaked with your juices, but he wouldn’t let you.

The two of you came back in the clubhouse, where the lights illuminated Angel’s face. Gilly was outside when everything happened and when he just saw Angel’s face he shuddered in disgust and called Angel a nasty fuck.

After Gilly left, Liza, head of the Angel Reyes fan club walked up to you two, but she completely ignored you. “Heyy Angel. You looked really good this morning. Sweatpants season suits you very well.” With no shame she dragged her eyes all over his body but was disappointed when you were blocking his crotch.

“Yeah, my girl got them for me. Thanks babe.” Angel turned to you, gave you a kiss, and allowed you to take advantage of it. You took control and basically were swapping spit with him in front of this girl. “Mmm, you taste just like me.” Swiping your thumb across Angel’s bottom lip, you collected some of your lip gloss and juices, and then put it in your mouth. Liza stomped off and Coco called y’all sick fucks.

Just like Angel said, he used you as a shield. The entire night you were stuck like glue. His beer got empty and when you attempted to get up to get him another, he slammed you back down on his lap and yelled at EZ to bring him another. Soon, you figured it had less to do with his now dried and stainless crotch and more to do with your short ass skirt.

The evil bastard also did it so you could constantly feel his erection. It was so bad that you would zone out and think about how great Angel would feel inside of you. You were so deep in your thots thoughts that you hadn’t realized Bishop came and asked you a question. The men around the table laughed at your confused huh and Bishop repeated his question. Quickly you recovered and gave him a smart answer.

“Can’t focus, mami?” Angel smiled against your neck and thrusted his hips, causing more friction between your legs.

Fucking tease! Two can play at that game. The rest of the night you would grind in his lap, making him lose his concentration. You were the reason he lost poker twice that night. Eventually he got tired of your antics and you two finally left the party.

“Imma hit the shower and get all this desert off me. How about you sit and get ready for daddy, hmm?” Angel didn’t wait for your answer and began stripping, leaving a trail of clothes from your bedroom to the bathroom. While he showered you put on your canary yellow Fenty lingerie set. It was one of the few Angel didn’t rip because he loved how it complimented your skin.

Usually Angel came out in a towel or butt ass naked but this time he came out with those damn sweats on. And just like that all the pumping up and the shit talking you did was gone. At this point you were gonna let Angel ruin you.

“Fuck querida, you’re beautiful.” Still standing, Angel bent over, buried his hands in your hair, and kissed you to the point that you almost forgot your own name.

When he ended the kiss, you could feel the energy shift. Daddy Angel was back in the building. He backed away to sit in the chair, but never turned his back on you, so you could keep an eye on his dick print. “Come crawl to Daddy, hermosa.” He crooked his finger at you.

As you made your way to him, he pulled his dick out. You wanted to get to him faster, but that wouldn’t be sexy at all, so you paced yourself. Angel didn’t make it easy for you though. He took his dick out and started stroking it.

Fuck that slow shit, you sped up some more causing Angel to chuckle. “Grab it.” Angel took his hand off of himself and you quickly replaced it with yours. “Feel that, mami? That’s all because of you.” It felt amazing to know you could cause this type of reaction out of Angel.

Normally, Angel would slap his dick in your face, but since he gave you free reign you did it yourself. You enjoyed the hiss that came from you slapped it on your tongue. “See that’s your dick, baby. Now suck it like it yours.” Angel laced his hands behind his head as you went to work.

Keeping your eyes on Angel, you swirled your tongue over the salty mushroom head and kissed the underside. “Stop teasing, querida.” Fluttering your eyes, you tapped his dick against your pursed lips. “What do you mean?” Taking a chunk of your hair, Angel pulled back your head. “You know what I mean. Start sucking or I’ll fuck your throat until no sound can come out of that smartass mouth of yours.”

It really shouldn’t have, but that little threat turned you on more. Behind your back you grabbed opposite elbows, you were gonna make Angel lose his mind with no hands. Easily (thanks to much practice), you took all of Angel in. Bobbing your head up and down you made your man squirm underneath you. “Fuck, just like that baby.” Angel was close, you could tell by the hitch in his voice. So, you played the dangerous game and backed off, only to give him slow, long licks.

“Y/N,” he growled your name in warning. “What?” You asked innocently while unhooking your bra, letting your breasts fall out. “Keep playing this game if you want to. You won’t think it’ll be funny in a little bit.”

To appease your man, you wrapped your tits instead of your mouth around his cock, stroking him that way while occasionally licking the head. “Shit, shit, shit.” Angel abruptly pulled away from you, lifted you from the ground, threw you on the bed, and ripped your panties off. “Angel!” He shoved his sweats off and pumped his cock while he climbed into bed. “I’ll buy you another set. Fuck I’ll buy you all the sets.”

Just like in the car Angel had your ankles by your ears, but this time he actually had his dick inside of you and your orgasm was automatic. “Damn, already? Who’s making you cream like this, mami?”

“You are Daddy,” you whined, clutching onto him. “Mmhmm that’s right. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!” You screeched when Angel’s fingers found your clit. “And whose dick is this?”

“Mines,” you yelled as Angel kept hitting that golden spot. “Then start acting like it! Ain’t no other bitch about to take it. This all your dick.”

Pulling Angel by the back of the neck, you kissed him. “Keep fucking me just like that, Daddy. I wanna cream all over my dick.”

“Yeah?” Angel tilted your chin and nipped at your lips. “You like when I fuck you like a whore?” Angel drew back, almost pulling all the way out and then snapped his hips against yours. “Good fucking pussy. Can I cum in my pussy?” You nodded your head furiously. “Yes daddy, fill me up please.”

With a couple of more snaps of his hips Angel had both of you screaming in ecstasy. Each of your orgasms prolonging the other’s. It felt like hours before either one of you caught your breath.

“Sooooo, is it a good or bad thing that I bought some more sweats?” Angel asked, already going down on you, not waiting for an answer.

“Good, definitely gooood!” You shrieked when you felt the first lick.

Thank god for sweatpants season.

Tags: @starrynite7114 @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @sambucky8 @mygirlrenee @richonne4life @readsalot73 @chaneajoyyy @ljstraightnochaser @my-rosegold-soul @angrythingstarlight @brattyfics @lovebennycolon @langiinspirations @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @spookys-girl @brownsugarcoffy @thesandbeneathmytoes @fvckthisbxtchup @theartisticqueen @vsfavs @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl @marvelmaree @strawberrywritings @blessedboo @sadeyesgf @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @woahitslucyylu

#black!reader #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x black!reader #mayans m.c.#mayans mc #mayans mc fandom #mayans fanfic

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atlafan · 4 years ago

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Office Neighbors - Part Four

a/n: alright, the angst in this is...ANGSTY, so please be careful lmao, I think the smut and fluff makes up for it though, but you tell me. enjoy! (reblogs and feedback are helpful!) (not proofread, I’m sorry)

warnings: fluff, angst, smut

words: 17K

masterpost

You were in a large t-shirt, underwear, and a pair of socks, getting your things packed for the conference. Harry would be picking you up around eight to hit the road for New York so you wanted to make sure you weren’t scrambling in the morning. You had your A/C cranked as you were running around so you wouldn’t be sweaty before bed.

The buzzer for your door goes off, and a shock goes through your system. You look out the window towards the street and you see Harry’s car lit up by the street light. You rush over to your door to buzz him in. You don’t even have time to consider putting something cuter on by the time he’s coming in through your door.

“Harry, what are y-“

He drops a small bag he brought with him, and pushes you up against the wall crashing his lips to yours. His hands drag down your hips and to your thighs to hoist you up. You instantly wrap your legs around his waist and tug at his hair.

“Wh-what’s happening?” You breathe.

“I didn’t want it to happen at the hotel.”

“What?” He gives you an almost pained look. “Oh!” You look down at yourself. “I looked so much cuter for you the other day, though.”

“I can’t tell you how cute I think you look right now. Can I please take you to your bedroom?”

“Yes.” You kiss on his neck while he walks you down the hall to your bedroom. “I want you so bad, Harry.”

“I know, I want you too, I was being silly the other night.” He gets you onto your bed and kicks his shoes off before settling on top of you. “I want this…with you.”

“Me too.” You arch up to kiss him.

“You’re okay with all this? Me being here right now?”

“Yes, Harry.” You reach for the hem of your shirt and lift it off, revealing your breasts to him.

“Do you have condoms?” He says as he licks over one of nipples.

“Y-yeah, in my bathroom.”

He hums his response as he kisses down your stomach. Everything felt hazy. When he looks up at you to speak, a buzzing sound comes out of his mouth.

“Huh?”

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of your alarm, and you nearly start crying from anger.

“Oh, for the love God!” You groan as you kick your blankets back.

It had been a couple of days since you were intimate with Harry. He called you the next morning to see how you were, ever the gentleman. He had a chance to see Andy before the conference, so he took it, not that you blamed him, but you were sort of hoping he’d come by and rail you.

You take a very quick shower, and make sure your things are together before he comes to pick you up. You had been up late getting everything packed, and clearly the stress from that had gone into your dream, and dream Harry came to relieve you of that stress. You just wish the real Harry would. Not that the other night wasn’t amazing, because it was, you were just sort of hoping to fully have sex with him. You understood him and you didn’t at the same time. What was the difference between having his dick in your mouth or having it in your vagina? You knew have sex was serious, and he probably had to be careful about who he got into relationships with because of his son, but he’s known you almost a year…doesn’t he trust you?

You’re taken from your thoughts when you hear your buzzer. You perk up a bit, and grab your backpack, and rolling luggage, and head out the door. Harry’s waiting outside his car with his trunk open. He looked really handsome. He was wearing a pair of light blue shorts, a white t-shirt, and a pair of sunglasses.

“Morning!” He says. “Got coffee and a breakfast sandwich for you in the car, I stopped off at Dunks.”

“Thanks, you’re the best.” You kiss him on the cheek and he puts your luggage in the trunk. You keep your backpack with you in case there’s anything you may need.

“So, it’ll be roughly four and half hours. We can stop anytime you want, don’t be afraid to speak up.”

“Do you…drive through the city often?”

“Not really, why?”

“Well…it’s just…do you mind if I do the first half of the drive? I’d like to gets us through Boston.”

“We don’t need to go that way. We’re going to take 93 to 293 and go through Manchester, and then eventually we’ll switch to 95, no need to go through Boston at all, love.”

“Oh…alright then.” You get the passenger seat and buckle up. He gets in the driver’s side, and pulls onto the street.

“That’s not to say you can’t drive, we can take turns. Or I can drive there and you can drive back, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“I just…sometimes I get road rage and I can be sort of a back seat driver, especially when it comes to driving in the city, but if we’re not going through Boston we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Don’t forget, I do go to London quite a bit, people drive like wankers out there just the same, so I know what I’m doing.” He smirks at you.

“Mhm.” You nudge him.

“Did you sleep well? I feel like I never sleep well before big outings like this, no idea why.”

“Yeah, um, I slept alright.” Your face flushes a little as you remember your very vivid dream. “Slept like a rock, really.” You clear your throat. “What did you do with Andy?”

“I took him up to the cabin for some alone time. Went kayaking, made a little fire, it was fun.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah, he says hello by the way.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

“He asked a lot of questions about you, he’s so nosey.” Harry chuckles.

“Probably just wants to make sure you’re not going out with a crazy person.” You laugh and open up your breakfast sandwich. You take a bite, and then have a sip of coffee. “Thanks again for breakfast, so nice of you.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. I have a little cooler in the back seat as well with other snacks if you get hungry.”

“Gee, thanks, Daddy, did you pack capri-suns? Those are my favorite.” You grin at him as you tease him.

“Make fun all you want, but when you get hungry or thirsty, you’re gonna be happy I prepared.” He side eyes you. “I have a tough time taking my dad hat off sometimes, alright?”

“No, no, it’s nice that you think ahead. I appreciate it.” You put your hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You just make it very easy to tease you sometimes.”

“Glad I can be a source of entertainment for you.”

“Hey, someone has to be on this long ass ride.”

“Long ass ride.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s mad long.” You say as you look out the window.

“Mad long kid.” He says in a horrible Boston accent and you slowly turn to face him.

“Was that supposed to be me?” You laugh. “I don’t think you want to play the accent game, pal.”

“I think it’s cute when you let it out a little. I think you said ‘wicked’ in one of the classes I observed and I had to try not to laugh, or like any time you say ‘pissed’.”

“Everyone uses those words! It’s not like I’m sitting there going, ‘that’s wicked pissah, guy’, give me some credit.”

“See, again, I just think it’s cute.” He smiles. “Say more super-Boston words, what’s another good one?”

“Umm, god, I don’t know.” You giggle. “Is dungaree one?”

“What in the fuck is a dungaree?” He laughs.

“It’s another way to say blue jeans.” You laugh. “My parents and grandparents used to say it all the time. I don’t know if it’s a Boston thing though. Umm, spuckie is like a sub sandwich…sort of an East Boston thing though, so not everyone says it.”

“I notice you dropping your R’s a lot towards the end of the day. You don’t really have much of an accent otherwise.”

“I sort of trained myself not to have one because it’s fucking annoying. You sound like a moron. I think it just comes out more when I’m tired.” You shrug. “Do you mind if I connect my phone to the Bluetooth? Listening to NPR the entire time doesn’t sound like fun…”

“Not into morning radio, huh? Sure, you can just use my phone since I have the GPS going.” He grabs it out of the cup holder and unlocks it for you.

“Thanks.” You go into Spotify and slightly snoop at his Daily Mixes. You didn’t listen to a lot of the same stuff, but you did some similarities.

“Anything but top-40 is fine with me.”

“Don’t like pop?”

“No, I do, I just hate listening to the same shit that’s always on the radio.”

“Fair enough.”

“Put on…put on music you would have listened to in college or something.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to expose myself like that!” You giggle. “I listened to a lot of degrading RnB.”

“Ha!” He shakes his head. “Please, find a playlist and put it on, I’m dying to know.”

“Alright.” You find a playlist with RnB songs from the later 2000’s and figure that will suffice. Rude Boy by Rihanna plays first, a great start. “Ugh, love this song.” You say and put his phone down.

“This is what you’d party to?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug. “It’s just a good song in general. I like Rihanna…do you?”

“She’s not bad.” He shrugs. “I probably wouldn’t let Andy listen to her.”

“Oh, but that’s half the fun! Being a kid and listening to really inappropriate music in your room, pretending like you know what they’re talking about. Used to do it all the time with Eminem.”

“Same here, actually.” He chuckles. You sing softly to yourself and he smiles. “Don’t be afraid to belt it out, I sing in the car all the time.”

“Really? Because you haven’t done it once since I’ve known you.”

“Good point.” He turns the music up and sings along with the chorus and you start laughing. “Come on, Y/N!”

You start singing with him, and that continues on a lot throughout most of the car ride. Around the halfway point, you stop at a rest area to use the bathroom and freshen up. You both grab a slice of pizza for an early lunch, and then head back to the car.

“Do you want me to drive, Har?”

“No, I’m fine…unless I’m making you car sick…”

“No! I just didn’t know if you needed a break.”

“I’m really all set, but thanks.” He pecks your lips quickly and then you both get into the car. “What do you feel like listening to now?”

“You pick.” You smile.

“No I want you to…I like knowing what you’re into…” He blushes.

“Do you like rock music at all? My mom used to listen to all those 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s bands. Might be night to take a break from the profanity.” You chuckle.

“Rock works for me.”

“Eddie Money?”

“Crank it.”

You both giggle and you put on some music. You feel like the two of you have been putting on a concert, and it’s been so much fun.

You arrive at the hotel for the conference, and head right into the garage to park it. Harry gets a ticket that he’ll be able to get validated inside. He helps you with your things, and then you both head inside to check in.

“Harry Styles.” He says to the woman at the desk. You go to the person to her.

“Ah, Dr. Styles, great to have you for the CMT conference. Did you take a ticket for the garage?”

“Yes, here it is, thanks.” She takes it and stamps it.

“Right, and you’ll be here three days, correct?”

“Yes.”

She types on her keyboard and makes some rapid clicks.

“Alright, you’ll be on the twenty-fifth floor, here are two room keys, Wi-Fi is included, and there’s complimentary breakfast every morning.”

“Wonderful, thank you so much.” He looks at you and steps back to wait until you’re given everything. “What floor are you on?” He asks as you both head to the elevator.

“The twentieth, you?”

“Twenty-fifth…I think they gave me a suite or something.”

“Oo, fancy.” You smile. “I asked for a room with two beds so I wouldn’t be shoved into a closet sized room.”

“Smart.”

You both head into the elevator, and Harry follows you out once you’re on your floor. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I just wanna get you in your room in case there are any creeps watching through their peep holes.”

“Harry…I’ve been to a hotel alone before.”

“I’m sure you have…it’s just for my own peace of mind, humor me?”

“Alright.” You shrug. You key in and he comes in with you. “Still tight, but definitely more floor space with two beds.” You hoist your luggage on top of one of the beds and sit down on the other. “I think I’m gonna relax, get settled for a bit, but do you wanna get dinner later? We could just go to the hotel bar.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Wouldn’t mind a quick nap, honestly.” He yawns. “See you soon.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead before heading out.

You end up falling asleep for a bit, and then you put on a bit of a nicer outfit for dinner. Harry tells you he’ll meet you outside your room for dinner. He looked a lot nicer too.

“Hey.” You smile and hug him.

“Hey.” He kisses the top of your head, and holds your hand on your way to the elevator.

“Are you happy you get your presentation over with tomorrow?”

“Oh, definitely. Then I’ll be able to enjoy the rest of it.” You both find a spot at the bar and order a couple of drinks while you look over the menu. “Did you want to split something? I’m not starving.”

“Me neither, yeah, that sounds good.” You furrow your brows at the menu and gasp. “Har! They have vegan Buffalo wings, can we please get that?!”

“Yeah, that sounds like it’ll really hit the spot.”

“And curly fries, gotta have curly fries.”

“Agreed.” He smiles.

You both order the food and clink your cocktail glasses once they come to you. The Buffalo wings really did hit the spot because you both scarfed the down.

“I wonder if we’ll run into anyone we know here. I’ve been to this conference once before, but it was a couple of years ago.”

“We all sort of go to different ones, like, our faculty. Plus, not a lot of people go to ones in the summer because they don’t want to think about work, but I like it. I feel like it keeps me fresh for the school year, you know?”

“Mhm.” You smile and just listen to him talk for a little bit. Harry was so incredibly intelligent, and you always liked listening his thoughts on things.

After a couple of drinks you both decide to call it a night since Harry would need to be up early in the morning to prepare for his presentation. He walks you to your room, just as he did earlier.

“Well…goodnight.” He says.

“Did you want to come in?” You nod towards your door.

“I do…but…I probably shouldn’t. I need to get to sleep…”

“Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s really okay, I don’t wanna be the reason you’re tired tomorrow.” You wink at him and peck his cheek. “See you for breakfast?”

“Definitely.” He smiles and waits for you to go inside before walking back to the elevator.

You wake up feeling refreshed the next morning. You take a quick shower, and put on a pair of grey slacks paired with a pink blouse and navy blazer. You liked looking nicer at these types of things. You put your hair up into your buns, just so you still looked a little fun, and head down to breakfast with your laptop bag slung over your shoulder. Your jaw nearly drops when you see Harry down at the breakfast restaurant. He was wearing a suit…you had never seen him in one before. It was brown, and he was wearing a purple button up underneath it.

“Y/N!” He snaps you out of your trance as he waves you over.

“Hey.”

“Morning.” He smiles and kisses you quickly. “You look nice.”

“Thanks…so do you, I mean…you look…so handsome.”

“Oh, stop.” He swats a hand at you. “It’s just dress pants and a matching jacket.”

“No…it’s more than that. I mean, look at all the other people. Blue or black slacks, white button ups. You’re very fashion forward.”

“You’re just now realizing? Well, how nice of you to come out from under your rock.” He winks at you, and you put your bag down so you can go up to the buffet with him.

“Yours it at ten, right?”

“Yup. Which session are you going to first?”

“There’s a working session about advising that I wanna go to, just to get some tips since I’m advising this year.”

“That’s a great idea.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not going to anything this morning, just so I can focus. I’m gonna practice my presentation again.”

“I’m excited to see all of your data. I hope more schools will see they should be offering wellness courses.”

Your first session was extremely eye opening for you. You head to bathroom quick, and then go to where Harry’s lecture will be. You weren’t sure where to sit. You knew he hated when people sat in the back of his class, so you knew not to sit all the way in the back. You decide on the fourth row. Not too far back, but not right up front either. You didn’t want to make him nervous. Seats were filling in here and there, which you were happy to see. Harry loved an audience.

“Y/N, is that you?”

“Dr. Pierce!” You gasp and stand up to hug your old friend.

“Please, you know you can just call me Arthur.” He chuckles.

“Old habits, would you like to sit with me?”

“Not saving it for anyone else?”

“No, the person I would be is going to be presenting.”

“Ah!” He says, sitting down next to you. “You know Dr. Styles?”

“I do, we’re colleagues actually. Office neighbors, in fact.”

“Good for you, he’s very bright. I’ve read a lot of his work, it’s refreshing.” He looks you up and down. “You look wonderful, your new institution is treating you well?”

“Very well! Thank you.” You smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“You’re just saying that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “This kids today are turning my hair white.” He laughs. “That’s why I wanted to check this out. Maybe if I can find a way to make them less stressed, I’ll be less stressed.”

“You’ve definitely come to the right place, Harry is the king of no stress.”

Harry could see the audience filing in from behind a curtain. He smiles when he sees you, and then squints when he sees you speaking with the man next to you. It was clear you knew each other and it wasn’t some stranger sparking up a conversation. He could tell because you nudged him after he made you laugh, something you would only do with a friend. He sighs and pushes his glasses up his nose. He can hear himself being introduced, and then he walks out. The room claps and he nods his head once he’s at the lectern. He was given a lapel mic to wear so everyone could hear him, and a remote to turn his slides. This was he could easily walk around the stage.

“Good morning everyone, I hope you enjoyed your first sessions…or an extremely long breakfast, whichever.” He shrugs and the crowd laughs. “I’m Dr. Harry Styles, and I’m so happy you’ve decided to spend your time with me this morning.”

You smile as he says this. You remember him saying this to his wellness class when you observed it. He said it to them everyone morning.

“I say this to my students every time we meet because even though, much like you, they’ve paid to be there, they still have to make the choice to get up and come to class.” He changes his slide. “I teach a class called Communication, Media, and Wellness, it’s just one of the few I teach, and I only offer it at eight in the morning.” He hears some people make comments and he grins. “My attendance rate is one-hundred percent throughout the semester, wanna know how I do it?” He changes the slide, and shows a picture of his classroom with students, desks in a circle, heads down on the desks. “We take the first ten to fifteen minutes to meditate, and then we do the same with the last five minutes. I give them time to settle in and clear their minds. Some fall asleep, some work on their breathing, and some just listen to me speak.” He changes his slide. “We talk about a lot of things in this class. We talk about what we see on the news, social media, and everything in between. We talk about how those things make us feel. We talk about tactics to help ease our anxiety, and if I’m noticing a particular energy, we break out the yoga mats and do some stretching.” He changes the slide again. “Students today are anxious about everything. They’ve grown up during some really tough times, never truly feeling safe. I’m here to help them learn how to cope.”

Harry goes over some data he’s collected over the last few years. He sends surveys to his previous students every semester until they graduate, and then twice again after they graduate. Everyone that’s taken his class thus far has graduated, and those that haven’t graduated yet all had high GPA’s. He shows comparisons of their GPA before the class (it’s only offered to sophomores and up right now), and their GPA after taking the class. There were only improvements.

“These students are able to take what they’ve learned with me and apply it in other classrooms and in their lives outside the classroom. The biggest thing I explain to them is to not be on their phones before bed, to not even watch TV really. It’s too stimulating, and sometimes it causes anxiety and then you can’t fall asleep.” He changes the slide and the crowd laughs. It was a picture of students presenting Harry with a sign that says ‘NO SCREEN BEFORE BED’. “This group made me this because I must have said it a hundred times that semester. I keep it hung up in my office.” He changes the slide to show students in their place of work after graduation. “Many of the results I got from my graduated students are that they’ve taken things with them. I have students have fallen in love with reading before bed, or they listen to a podcast, or use some type of app that tells them a story at night to help them fall asleep. They they’re able to wake up refreshed and ready for the day. Many of them even wake up and mediate to help them really become alert.” He changes the slide again to a picture of him giving a yoga lesson outside on the quad. “I know this may seem silly, but it really does help these students. Offering a class for credit on this allows them to already build it into their schedule, rather than offering classes at the gym that they really have no obligation or incentive to go to. This is a CM course, but it also counts towards our school’s general education requirement. We call it a Wellness Connection, so any student can take this course. I’ve had such a mix of students take this course, and they’ve all come out better for it. Offering something like this in today’s age is extremely important for our students who are facing so many hardships. I hope you’ll consider implementing some of this into your classrooms.” He looks out to everyone and smiles. “Thank you.”

Everyone claps, and someone else comes out and tell everyone that there’s about fifteen minutes for questions. Harry gets a few and is able to answer them best he can. Once it’s all done he takes a deep breath and sits on the stage. He knew some people would want to come up to him afterwards.

“Will I see you later?” Arthur says to you as you both stand up.

“I’m not sure…I doubt we’ll be at all of the same sessions.”

“Maybe at the bar later then?”

“Maybe.” You smile. “If not…it was really good to see you.”

“You too.” He hugs you again. Harry sees this and furrows his brows.

You grab your things and walk over to him.

“Excuse me, Dr. Styles, I have a question.” You grin.

“And what might that be?” He says, taking his suit jacket off and rolling his sleeve ups.

“How are you so incredible?”

“Y/N.”

“I mean it! I was floored. What incredible data, and it’s all true! It’s all things we notice in our classrooms. I really need to implement that no screen thing into my own life, to be fair I tend to read on my phone, but-“ You realize how fast you’re talking when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Sorry…just a little excited.”

“I’m glad you got a lot out of it.” He smiles. “Who, uh, who was that guy you were sitting with?” He asks as you both walk out of the room.

“What guy? Oh! That was Dr. Pierce, he teaches at my previous institution. It was a nice surprise to see him. He spoke really highly of you too. He said he’s read a lot of your work, which is incredible because I’ve never once heard him say he likes anyone’s work but his own.” You laugh.

“Was he one of your professors?”

“Not necessarily…he was, um, a colleague…” You blush slightly. “I’m headed to the session on…what?”

“Was he the professor you-“

“Harry, now really isn’t the time, okay?” You say quietly. “It was before you and I even knew each other, it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter when you were sitting with him.” He frowns.

“He’s just a friend.”

“A friend that you-“

“Not the time.” You snap. “You’re not my boyfriend, check yourself.” You huff and walk away from him so you’re not late for your next session.

His mouth falls open, silence coming from him when he tries to call after you. He shakes his head and heads to his next session.

You were so pissed you skipped lunch and went for a walk outside instead. You were barely able to concentrate during your session, and you didn’t answer any of Harry’s texts. Were you acting childish? Maybe, but you hated when men got like this. What the fuck did it matter if that was the professor you slept with? It was so long ago, and the two of you were friends. You didn’t want to sleep with anyone but Harry, couldn’t he see that?

By the end of the say you had calmed down, and you finally answer his text. He had asked you to come up to his room before dinner so you could talk. You knock on his door and he lets you in. He had changed into a pair of jeans a t-shirt, you were in still in your nice clothes.

“Harry, I-“

“Let’s get something straight.” He cuts you off, and you’re a little shocked by his tone. “You were right earlier, I’m not your boyfriend. In fact, I think it would be too soon for a label like that considering it’s only been about a month since we started all this.” He steps closer to you as you had backed away when he started talking. “But what I am is the person that you’re seeing, right? I’m the one who had their head between your legs just a few nights ago, so I don’t wanna hear it. It’s a stupid fucking word that people use to put some type of seriousness on their relationship, and I’ve never really understood it. You’re either with a person or you’re not, plain and simple.” He looks at you. “You acted like a fucking teenager earlier, you realize that right?”

“I was upset.”

“So you ignored me? You said something purposefully hurtful and then walked away? Is this how you handle things? You don’t like when someone says something to you that you don’t like so you shut down?”

“I didn’t shut down! We’re at a fucking conference and you were starting something with me that I told you wasn’t the time to start. We each had a session to get to! Unlike you, I paid to come here, Harry.”

“You still acted like-“

“Do you know much you disrespected me back there? Do you even care? There I was, amazed by you, and all you could care about was the fact that I used to sleep with someone, and I was polite to them. He asked me when he’d see me again and I totally brushed him off because I came here with you and I wanna spend my time with you!”

“You don’t even think it’s a little weird that a guy that much older than you wanted to sleep with you?”

“That’s society! Older men like younger girls, what can I say? Is it sickening at times? Sure! But at the time, when I was twenty-three, I wanted it. I was attracted to him, we got along really well, and I made a move, okay? Me, I made the first move.”

“He should have told you no.”

“But he didn’t! I rode that dick for an entire semester, and then summer happened, and he went across the country to go on sabbatical. It was a brief stint, okay?”

“You’re being vulgar.” He shakes his head.

“That shouldn’t be new to you. You’ve been out with Janette and I enough times to know how I talk. You’re making a big deal out of nothing, and for what? Are you jealous? Is that it? He’s fucked me and you haven’t?”

“I’m not jealous of that.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not jealous of anything, I just didn’t like watching you flirt with him from backstage.”

“I wasn’t…” Your eyes start to water. “I wasn’t flirting with him…I was just being nice…cordial.” You blink a few tears away. “I…need to go, I’ve lost my appetite.” You brush by him as you walk towards the door.

“Y/N.” He sighs. “Don’t go, we can work this out.”

“You basically just said having sex with me wasn’t anything special, so…yeah, I’m leaving.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said you weren’t jealous of it!”

“Because I’m not! It would be a stupid thing to be jealous over. I may not have fucked you with my prick, but I got in there, I made you orgasm – twice! My main problem-“

“Well, I hope you enjoyed getting in there because it’s not happening again.” You were livid now. “Here I was, putting you on a pedestal for so long, but you’re just like every other guy. You’re an asshole!” You huff and turn towards the door again. “And if I’m acting like a teenager, then that makes you the tallest fucking baby I’ve ever seen in my life!” You leave and slam his door shut.

“You said what to her?!”

“Don’t yell at me! I called for help, Paige, not-“

“No, no, I will yell at you. Where do you even get off getting upset that she was talking to an old colleague?”

“I told you, they used to hook up, and he’s like fifteen years older than her, it’s gross, and I see it as him taking advantage of a young girl.”

“Harry…” Paige sighs. “It doesn’t matter how you see it, it’s how she sees it. She clearly didn’t think anything was wrong with it at the time, you can’t get mad at her for it. It was before you even knew each other. Ugh, this is just like when you punched Ryan Green at that party when you saw him talking to me.”

“Because he was the guy that dated you before me! He shouldn’t have been talking to you in the first place, he knew we were going out.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s about trust, and not jumping to conclusions. I don’t think I had ever been so mad at you.”

“Yeah…but…you forgave me…”

“And nine months later we got Andy, I know, I know.” She sighs. “You said some real hurtful shit to her. What happened to deep breaths before speaking?”

“I couldn’t help it…”

“You and your green eyed monster.”

“I have to apologize…I feel terrible. I put up a front, and it was like I had no control over anything I was saying. What if she doesn’t want to date me anymore?”

“Then it looks like you’ll have a really awkward drive home in a couple of days.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be, that’s the reality you’re facing. Now, from what you told me she said…it sounds like you both have some sorry’s to say. I agree she shouldn’t have ignored you all day, but maybe she just needed to cool off.”

“True…fuck, I really hope I didn’t fuck this.”

“You won’t know until you go down there and talk to her. Bring a peace offering, she’s got a sweet tooth, right?”

Harry taps on your door with one hand, and a boxed Oreo cheesecake in the other. You were in your pj’s already, just a large t-shirt and shorts. You sigh when you see him through the peep hole. You open the door, but only enough for the chain to stay latched.

“Hi.” You say softly.

“Can I come in?” He says just as softly. “I know it doesn’t make up for anything, but I brought cheesecake…”

“What kind?”

“Oreo.”

You close the door and at first he feels defeated, but he hears you slide the latch and you open the door all the way, letting him in.

“Thanks.” He hands the box and the plastic fork to you. He sits down on one of the beds, and you sit across from him, taking a bite.

“Is this from downstairs?”

“No, I went one of the restaurants close by and got it.”

“Oh…thank you…it’s delicious…”

“Good.” You take another bite and set it aside. “You’ve been crying?” Your eyes were red and puffy.

“Balled my eyes out, actually.”

“I’m sorry, I feel terrible.”

“So do I.”

“It was my fault…I did disrespect you, and I lied…I was jealous. I know I have no control over anyone you’ve slept with previously, I just didn’t think I’d be in the same room as them with you acting all buddy-buddy. Why should a guy like that have the privilege of knowing you?”

“Why should you?” You scoff.

“Touché.” He smirks. “Suppose I don’t really deserve that privilege right now.”

“I didn’t know you could say such hurtful things to someone…is that how you are when you’re angry?”

“Not when I’m angry, but…I’ve sort of always had this problem with jealousy. I’ve tried everything to work on it. Believe it or not, I’m way better than I used to be. One time I punched one of Paige’s ex-boyfriend’s right in the face because he was talking to her at a party.”

“Yeah? And how’d she handle that?”

“Um…” His face flushes. “Well…she has her own issues so…uh…well…we got Andy out of it, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Aggression isn’t exactly a turn on for me. I don’t like macho guys who need to assert their dominance like that.” You look down. “I’m sorry I ignored you all day, I’m sure that didn’t feel good, and you probably didn’t like seeing how bratty I can be.” You sigh. “And I cried more so because…I don’t want this to be over, and…-“

“I don’t want it to be over either…it’s barely started.”

“Were you really just trying to look out for me?”

“It was a mix of that and being jealous. I mean…I can’t wrap my head around a forty-one year old guy being able to rock your shit.”

“Harry.” You chuckle. “He was in his late thirties at the time, give him some credit. Besides, who said I was getting my shit rocked? Maybe I was rocking his.” You smirk.

“Y/N.” Harry sighs and lets his head fall back.

“You need to know something, you’re, like, all I think about.”

“Really?” He looks at you again.

“Yeah…I don’t want anyone else, I don’t even know who else I could want, honestly.”

“I really am sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“Me too.” You bite your bottom lip. “But…I don’t wanna be spoken to like that again. I’m not your kid, Har.”

“I know that.” He says defensively.

“You, like, had your dad voice on.”

“I was just speaking sternly so you’d take me seriously.”

“I felt like I was getting a lecture from my father, I don’t need that from you. I think if something goes wrong we need to try to find a way to properly talk about it. It’s not just on you, it’s on me too, obviously. It’s something we can both work on.”

“Okay.”

“Do you wanna get cozy and split the rest of this with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He perks up.

Harry kicks his shoes off and gets on the bed with you. You had some random movie on the TV, and you cutely feed him bites of the cheesecake off your fork.

“Just so you know, sweets can’t buy my affection.”

“It was a peace offering.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…Paige gave me the idea.”

“What?” Your eyes grow wide. “Harry, you told her we had a fight?!”

“I had no one else to call for help!” He pouts. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I don’t want her knowing anything bad about me…I her want her to trust me with Andy.”

“She does.” He shrugs.

“She does?”

“Yeah…because I trust you.”

“Oh…well, I don’t want you running to her every time we have a disagreement.”

“Well, I was thinking this could be the only one we have.” You laugh at that and so does he. “Sorry, she’s still, like, my best friend, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to call my sister about this.”

“And notice…I’m not all jealous because you’re best friends with your ex.”

“It’s a little different, I’ve got a kid with her.”

“Most people I know who are divorced with kids aren’t as nice to each other.”

“We’re not divorced, we never got married, didn’t I tell you that? Maybe that’s why we don’t hate each other, nothing on paper that legally needed to be divided up.”

“Oh yeah…you did mention that once I think.” You set the box aside since there were only crumbs left, and look up at him. “I think I prefer when we disagree as colleagues better. I feel exhausted.”

“Same here.” He chuckles. “It’s also been a really long day. I should let you get to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep now, I just had all that sugar!” You laugh and crawl into his lap. You sigh as he starts to rub your back. “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

“I’d like that.”

You nuzzle into his chest, and he rests his chin on the top of your head. You hear him take his glasses off and you look up at him again. You both slowly lean in, lips ghosting over each other, and then you’re kissing softly and slowly.

“Mm, you taste like Oreos.” He smiles against you and then bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it gently. You groan into him and he holds you closer.

“Please.” You breathe. “Can we-“

“I’d like to wait until we get home if that’s alright…we have another day of sessions, and then we’re heading back…we’ll get back late…and I might too tired to even get back to my place, so…”

“So then you’d have to come up to mine, just to be on the safe side.”

“Exactly.” He grins. You groan and then give him a lip smacking kiss.

“Okay, get out of my room.”

He laughs at you and you get off of him. He kisses you again before leaving. He was going to be the death of you.

Things were much better the next day. You both even went to some similar sessions. Luckily, Dr. Pierce was nowhere to be found, so you didn’t run into him. You both decide to skip the awards ceremony since it was mostly for board members anyways so you could hit the road.

“Alright, I’m driving.” You say. “You good with that?”

“Go for it.” He hands you the keys and you get into the driver’s seat.

You didn’t lie when you said you had road rage. Harry nearly had a heart attack every two seconds watching you weave in and out of lanes as you got out of the city.

“Get out of the left lane you fucking asshole!” You yell. “Look at this guy, can you believe it?” You look at Harry. “Let’s go!” You yell before he can say anything.

“Babe! Babe, relax, there’s no rush.” He says, putting his hand on your thigh.

“Wh-what?” Your features soften.

“I know you’re eager to get back, but let’s get there in one piece, yeah?”

“I…” You look at him quickly and then back to the road. “Yeah.” You swallow. Had he not realized that was the first time he called you babe? “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “Didn’t realize how badly you wanted to fuck me.” He smirks.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes as he gives your thigh a squeeze. “You just called me babe…”

“I know.” He nods. “Is that alright?”

“Yes.”

He leans over the console to kiss your cheek and then he sits back. He was really glad nothing got too fucked up between you. He liked you so much, he wanted to keep seeing where this was going.

It was dark by the time you pulled up to your apartment. You had stopped off at the same rest area and had a quick bite. You were sort of shocked that Harry let you drive the whole way, maybe he was saving his energy. You turn the car off and swallow.

“So…you’re coming up?”

“You want me to?”

“Yes.”

He nods and you both get out of the car. He opens the trunk to grab yours and his bags and then he locks the car. He follows you up to your apartment.

“If I could just have a second to go, um, freshen up…feel free to use the hall bath if you need it.” You were blushing, perhaps a little flustered at the prospect of what was to come. He simply nods at you before going to use the other bathroom.

You rush into your own bathroom with your things. You weren’t sure what you should do. Should you bother with a fresh pair of underwear? It was only going to come off…was Harry the type to even care about that sort of thing? Something tells you probably not. So, you just freshen up your deodorant, and put on a little perfume before going back out. He was bent over one of his bags putting his glasses away. You come up to him and slide your hand up his back. He stands up straight and looks down at you.

“You want this?” He asks softly.

“I want you, Harry…”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to you. Your lips find his and his hands find your hips. He nibbles on your bottom lip, getting a soft moan from you. One of your hands slides up to his hair as he starts walking you back into your room. You both get on the bed and he hovers over you.

“I had a dream sort of like this the other night.” You smile up at him and he smiles back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, but I’m already liking this better.”

“Why’s that?” He asks as he takes his shirt off.

“Because this is real and not something I can wake up from.” You run your hands up and down his torso and it sends a shiver up his spine.

He tugs at the hem of your shirt and you sit up so he can take it off. He immediately unhooks your bra to let your breasts free and attaches his hands to them. As he leans back down to kiss you, your hands work to undo his jeans, and you toe them down his legs so he can kick them off. He kisses down your chest, licking over both of your nipples, sucking on one, before kissing his way down your stomach. He undoes your shorts and tugs them down your legs, leaving you in your underwear. It wasn’t your sexiest pair, but he didn’t seem to really care as he started kissing you over them. Your hips buck up. No one had ever really done that to you before. You watch as he watches the wet spot become more damp and he presses his thumb into it. He looks up at you when he hears you gasp.

“I know, you want these to come off, right?”

“Please, Harry.”

He nods and hooks his fingers into your underwear to drag them down your legs. Once you’re fully naked before him he licks his lips like you’re a buffet ready to be devoured.

“There’s something I’d like to do…if you felt comfortable with it.” He says and your eyes light up. You were sort of hoping he was a little freaky.

“What?” You bite your bottom lip in anticipation.

“I’d like to eat you out from behind, can I do that?”

Okay, not as freaky as you thought, but definitely not something guys offered to do often.

“Sure.” You shrug, and roll over onto your stomach. You get up on your knees and elbows and look back at him.

He comes closer to you, holding you close as he kisses on the back of your neck. He works his way down your back, biting you occasionally to get you a little riled up. He bites into your left ass cheek and you grunt. You feel him spread you apart, and you buck forward when you feel his tongue slide between you folds.

“Stay still for me.” He says as he grips your hips, diving back in for more.

You grip at your blankets as you feel his tongue sliding up and down your slit. He adjusts you a little so he can briefly suck on your clit. You moan out when he does so, not wanting him to stop, but he does. His tongue enters you, going in and out, only briefly. You feel his fingers start to rub on your clit as his tongue slides back on your slit, back further, and up to your other hole. Your eyes widen when you feel his tongue there, he doesn’t enter you this way, but he was certainly getting a good lick. You couldn’t find it in you to care because his fingers were sliding into your cunt.

“Oh, fuck.” You groan as he pumps them in and out of you.

You couldn’t remember ever feeling so stimulated before, everything he was doing felt incredible. His tongue stays lapping around your other whole while his fingers fuck you from behind, his thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

“Oh my god, Harry.” You moan. He grunts against you, not letting up for a second.

Your body starts to feel warm all over, and you feel your stomach start to tighten. Your breathing is getting heavier, and you could feel sweat forming on your forehead. He was getting in so deep with just his fingers, and what he was doing with his tongue was sending you.

“H-Harry, I’m gonnaaaa-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you come around his fingers.

He retracts them and brings his tongue back around your folds to lick you clean. He sucks his fingers into his mouth as you slowly turn around to face him. You were shocked.

“Good?” He smirks.

You grin and tackle him down onto the bed, pinning him down and crashing your mouth to his. You sponge kisses to his jaw and neck and down his chest. He groans when you start grinding over his still covered cock.

“I think these should come off now, don’t you?” You say, already tugging at the band of his boxers.

“Yeah.” He lifts his hips to help you as you tug them the rest of the way down. Just as you’re inching your way down his body he grips your hips and pulls you back up.

“What are you doing?”

“M’not done with you yet.” Yup, he was definitely resting up in the car earlier. You get the gist and raise yourself over his mouth, and lower yourself so his tongue can be on you again.

“Fuck.” You breathe as he sucks on your clit.

You reach behind you to pump his hard dick, and he bucks up into your hand. You use your other hand to tug at his hair. He was moaning against you from the way you were jerking him off and it just added to the sensation on your core. His tongue slips inside you and you essentially start riding it.

“Fuck! Oh my god.” You groan. No one had fucked you like this in a very long time, and he hadn’t even put his dick into yet.

You have to use both hands to grip at your headboard when he starts sucking on your clit again, and slips two of his fingers inside you from behind. You were a mess above him, crying out and whining about how good it felt. You release onto his tongue and he sucks on you until you’ve ridden it out completely. You slowly get off of him and sink down onto the bed. You look at each other for a moment.

“You’re wild.” You chuckle.

“I told you…I can get a little excited.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead. “Do you have any condoms handy? Mine are all packed away…”

“You packed some?” You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Well…I just wanted to be prepared in case anything happened…and then I went fucked it so-“

“Hey.” You cup his jaw. “It’s all good now, okay?” He leans into your touch and kisses your palm.

“Okay.”

“I keep them in the bathroom, just give me one second.” You get up and wobble slightly. Your legs felt like jelly after all that. You rummage through your cabinet below the sink and grab a few…just in case.

“How come you keep ‘em in there?” He asks as you come back out.

“I…don’t need them as often and I keep other things in my night tables.” You shrug and get back on the bed.

He cups your cheeks and brings you back down to him to kiss you. You hand him one of the condoms and toss the others on the night table. You lay on your back and lick your lips as he rolls it on.

“Is this the only form of birth control you use?” He asks as he shuffles to hover over you.

“Yeah…I got off the pill last year.”

“Oh, how come?”

“I just didn’t like the way it made me feel.” You clear your throat. It was the truth, but you also got off it so that if you met someone and got serious you would have an easier time getting pregnant when the time came, but you certainly weren’t going to say that to him. “Is it okay that we use condoms?”

“Yeah, I don’t care, I just don’t know if we had a backup is all.”

He slots his lips over yours and opens your legs up. He runs his fingers over your slit to make sure you’re still wet. He looks down to line himself up with you, and you push his hair away so he can see better.

“You sure?” He asks.

“Yes, Harry.”

He smiles at you and slowly start to push in. Your mouth falls open at the feeling. He was thick, obviously, but holy shit. Not only is he really good at eating out, but his dick felt amazing. How any woman could have ever let him go was beyond you. He grunts once he’s all the way inside you. He gives you a second and then he starts to thrust in and out of you. He props himself up with one arm, and uses the other to hook under one of your legs to drive in a little deeper.

“Oh! That feels good.” You moan as your head rolls back. Your nails dig into his biceps.

“Yeah? Like feeling me this deep? You feel so good, Y/N.” He says into your ear and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“God, keep talking.” You tug at his hair.

“Could barely concentrate during my presentation the other day.” He says between kissing on your neck and shoulder. “You looked so beautiful.”

“Your confidence up there was so sexy, I was about ready to find a closet or something to blow you in afterwards.”

“Jesus.”

“Would you have liked that? If I just tugged in you somewhere discrete and made you feel good?”

“Yes.” He grunts. He sits up and puts both of your legs over his shoulders and fucks into your hard and fast.

You look up at him wide eyed and reach to scratch at his stomach before your hand lands on your clit. You rub circles into yourself as you both continue making eye contact. With each thrust you could tell he was looking for your g-spot, watching your features to see what feels good. When he hits it you gasp.

“Ha! Right there?”

“Yes, keep doing that, I’m close.” You whine and rub yourself faster.

“Should make you wait, you already had two, greedy.”

“Don’t be mean.” You pout. “Please, Har?”

He grins at you and continues to hit the spot over and over. He could feel you tightening and squeezing around him. You definitely were close.

“Oh! Oh my god! Harry, Harry!” Your back arches and squeeze around him especially hard. When you become too sensitive you pull your hand away from yourself. You thought he wouldn’t be much longer but there he was…rocking in and out of you.

He comes closer to you, burying his face in your neck, slow, precise thrusts. You dig your nails into his ass and he groans. Alright, he liked feeling your nails, this was something you knew for sure now.

“Can I get on top?” You nearly beg.

“Yeah.” He breathes.

He pulls out of you carefully and gets on his back. You swing a leg over him and sink down with ease. You raise and lower on him until you get a groove going. His hands slide up to your breasts and he kneads them. You were surprised he was letting you just ride him and that he wasn’t thrusting up into you, but you appreciated having the control. His hands move your hips and ass, squeezing at different locations. You smirk down at him.

“Can’t decide where I wanna touch you most.” He admits.

“Wanna feel you all over.”

His hands move up to your back and he pulls you down to him so your chests are flush together. He bends his legs at the knee and digs his feet into your bed so he could thrust into you, moving you up and down on him. You kiss on his neck and move to his mouth as you grind on him. You both were moving in sync, and you were getting the best friction against your clit. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to come again, having never had four in one go, but you both were up to the challenge. He moves you faster and faster on him. You have to detach your lips to breathe when you start panting.

“Shit!” You cry out when you feel your release. You rest your head on his chest, and gives you a moment to regain yourself before pulling out. “You…you didn’t come yet.”

“I know, we’re not done.” Your eyes widen at him. “Don’t tell me you’re tired, babe.” He smirks.

“Nope.” You shake your head and grin. “Gimme all you got.”

He flips you onto your stomach, and has you lay flat as he slides in, almost his full weight on top of you. You almost sigh with relief because this was something you had been craving for what felt like ages. Just feeling him full on you, almost crushing you, but in the best possible way. He rocks in and out of you slowly and kisses on your neck and shoulders. It was needy at first, but now things just felt sensual. You feel a little bad he can’t really feel how soaked you are around him.

He slides an arm under your chest to grip one of your breasts, and his other hand snakes just under your pelvis. You gasp when you feel his fingers on your clit. You were overly sensitive now. He was just pressing down, not moving, and applying pressure. His hips move in circles and your mouth falls open. He was really stretching you out now. Your hips move with him, and he starts moaning softly.

“Love feeling you like this.” He says into your ear.

“Me too.” You whimper. Now his fingers rub circles into your clit with same motion as both of your hips, big and slow. “Harry.”

“Shh, I know you’ve got one more in you. This time we’re gonna do it together, how does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” You groan.

Between his breath in your ear, his fingers on your clit, his other fingers tweaking your nipple, and his cock working wonders inside you, you had no idea how you hadn’t melted into a puddle on your bed and evaporated into thin air.

“H-Harry, I-“ You squeeze around him and he bites hard on your shoulder.

This sends you over the edge you cry out loudly. You practically scream his name, which helps him meet his own end. It was so hot, you could feel his come through the condom. He kisses down your back as he pulls out, and you wince.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he gets off your bed. “M’just gonna take care of this in the bathroom.”

“Be my guest.” You breathe. You push yourself up and waddle to the hall bath. Your shit hadn’t be rocked quite like that in a long time, if ever.

When you come back into your room he was grabbing a fresh pair of boxers from his bag and sliding them up his legs. His glasses were back on his face, and he was rummaging for his toothbrush.

“You have toothpaste I can use?” He asks, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“Mhm.” You nearly squeak. Your voice was hoarse. “Just let me do my thing and then it’s all yours.” You sounded like you had gravel in your throat it made him beam at you.

Harry goes into the bathroom after you, and you throw a large t-shirt on and get into bed. You were nervous, a guy hadn’t stayed over with you in this apartment yet. And you had been living there a year! He comes out and slides into bed with you.

“It’s alright I’m staying?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re as stiff as a board.” He chuckles. “Here I was thinking I loosened you up.”

“Harry.” You breathe. “Please, I’m exhausted.” He laughs at that and leans over to turn your light off. He pulls you to lay on his chest.

“You don’t do this often, do you?”

“No…I get nervous sleeping next to people.”

“Why?”

“Because, like, what if I roll over too much and wake you up, or snore, or talk in my sleep, or what if I…don’t look cute when I wake up.”

“Y/N.” Harry laughs. “You’re talking about things that all people do, it’s okay.”

“I also really like to get wrapped up in my blankets…like a burrito.” You mumble the last part.

“Well, you know I like holding onto something, so why don’t I be your burrito tonight?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, let me wrap you up, we’ll get all snug.”

You smile and peck his lips before turning over. He spoons you nice and tight to him, his limbs slung over yours, blankets cozy around the both of you. You sigh happily.

“This is nice.” You whisper.

“I agree.” He whispers back.

“You…have a lot of stamina.”

“Surprised?”

“A little.” You chuckle. “Good surprise though.”

“Did you like everything I did?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Even the stuff at the beginning.”

“I was very surprised by that, but it felt good with everything else you were doing.”

“Good, so you weren’t freaked out?”

“Nope.” You adjust closer to him. “I’m pretty open to trying things. I would have told you if I didn’t like something.”

“Everything just felt right with you.” He nuzzles his face into the back of your head.

“I feel the same way.”

Everything would be different now, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You had never connected physically like that with someone before. You were falling for him, hard, to say the least.

You wake up just as you did the night you went camping with Harry. His body pressed close to yours, and his breath on the back of your neck. You could hear light snores coming from him. The clock on your bed side table reads 9:30. You sigh and adjust against him, hoping to maybe fall back asleep. His arm pulls you closer to him, and you turn onto your back to look up at him. He blinks a few times before looking down at you. He smiles and opens his mouth to speak, and as if on cue, his phone starts buzzing.

“It’s Andy.” There’s a slight sigh. “Do you mind if I take it?”

“No, go ahead.” You giggle. That kid sure had impeccable timing.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hi, buddy, why you calling so early?” He knuckles at one of his eyes and sits up.

“Says the guy that gets up before sunrise every day.” Andy scoffs. “How was New York, did your presentation go well?”

“It was good, yeah, a lot of people showed up, I was surprised. Got asked some good questions.”

“Did Y/N come?”

“She sure did.” Your jaw drops and you smack Harry’s chest. He chuckles softly.

“So, is she your girlfriend yet, or what?”

Harry’s face loses all color and he clears his throat.

“Uhhh, I don’t know yet, um, could I call you later, Andy?”

“Why, are you busy?”

“A little.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m just tired, we got back late last night, and then…I didn’t fall asleep until later. Not really awake enough for a full conversation.”

“Fine.” He sighs. “Call me later, love you.”

“Love you too.” Harry puts his phone down and looks at you. “Sorry, he doesn’t understand how this stuff works…”

“What stuff?”

“Like…dating timeframes. You know how kids are, they think you go out on one date and that makes someone your boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Labels really scare you, huh?” You sit up and look at him, covering your upper half with the blanket.

“No, that’s not it, I just don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured.” Your features soften at that.

He was right, it had only been a month, it was probably a little soon to rush into the boyfriend/girlfriend label. You shuffle over to sit in his lap, and you lay your head on his shoulder. He holds you close and rubs your back. You start laughing.

“What?”

“I can’t believe you said that to him.”

“Oh, he didn’t pick up on the innuendo, s’fine.” He kisses the top of your head. “Sleep alright?”

“Mhm, did you?”

“Yeah, like you a lot better than my body pillow.” You both laugh at his dumb joke. “What are you doing today?”

“Hmm.” You look up at him. “Laundry for sure, grocery shopping…I’ve got some reading to catch up on, you?”

“Bout the same. Could we have a shower and some breakfast? Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“That sounds great.” You kiss his cheek. “But no hanky panky in there, I’m throbbing and not in a good way.”

“Sorry.” His cheeks grow red.

“No! It’s okay, I just...you had me all over the place, and your dick is really big. Not complaining at all, it was just a lot all at once.”

“I…may have been a little excited.”

“No skin off my nose, I’d rather have it like that anyways.” You kiss his nose and get off of him. You extend your hand out and lead him to the bathroom to start your shower.

“You bitch! You can’t just say he spent the night and not give me details!” Janette says over FaceTime later that evening. “I’ve missed everything!”

“When you get back we can go out for drinks. I don’t think he’d like it very much if I spilled the beans. I’m not sure what we’re telling people…if we’re telling people.”

“It’s been about a month, right? You could tell people you’re seeing someone.”

“Other than my brother you’re the first person I’ve told.”

“Please, just tell me this…did you go to sleep happy?”

“Very.” You smirk and she squeals.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you too.”

A few days pass, and you end up going to Boston for your birthday. You and Harry have spoken, of course, but you haven’t been able to see each other. He was really bummed because he wanted to take you out to dinner.

“Can I take you out for a night on the town when you get back?”

“I’d like that.”

Harry was one of the sweetest guys you had ever dated, and you felt really lucky. Your parents and brother and Julian were all taking you out for dinner at one of your favorite Chinese food places in the city.

“How was New York, honey?” Your mom asks.

“It was great! I learned a lot. I’m really glad I went, there were so many good sessions.”

“And you went with one of your colleagues?” Your dad asks.

“Mhm.” You say, sipping your drink. You and Phil make eyes at each other and you swallow hard. “We’re…well, we’re sort of seeing each other.”

“Oh?” Your mom gasps and then she smiles. “Where the hell is he then? You didn’t invite him o your birthday dinner?”

“Mum…it’s a bit soon for him to meet the family, it’s only been a little over a month since we’ve started going out.”

“How long have you known him?” Your dad asks.

“Almost a year. He’s my office neighbor, so we’ve been friends a while.”

“Well, I’m just tickled pink! It’s been ages since you’ve had a boyfriend.” Your mom beams.

“He’s not my boyfriend, not officially, anyways. We’re just dating, seeing how it goes.”

“What’s the problem? He should want to snatch you up.” Your dad says.

“He needs to be really selective with who he gets serious…he sort of has a kid…” You mumble.

“A kid?!” They both say.

“How old is this man?” Your mom asks.

“Only thirty-two, Phil’s age.”

“How old is the kid? Must be young.” Your dad says.

“He’s eleven, actually…they had him young. I’ve met his mom, she’s really nice. She has a serious boyfriend who has a daughter. Harry’s son’s name is Andy, and he’s very sweet.”

“So, you’ve met him?” Your mom asks.

“Oh, sure. Harry has to bring him to work sometimes. I’ve gone hiking with them too.”

“Yeah, Y/N went camping overnight with them.” Phil says with a grin. “Think that was when he finally had the balls to ask her out. Shared a tent and everything.”

“I’m never telling you anything ever again.” You groan.

“I think next time we come up for a visit we should meet this man. I mean, you really want to get involved with someone with a kid in middle school? What if things get really serious, and then you find out he doesn’t wanna deal with having a baby again? I know it’s your choice, but you’ve always said you wanted a baby, I don’t want you wasting your time with someone who won’t give that to you.” Your mom says.

“Wow, a lecture on my birthday, what a gift.”

“We just want to make-“ Your dad starts but you cut him off.

“Look, I get I’m the baby of this family, but I’m not stupid, I know what I’m doing. It’s taken me a year to open my eyes and heart up to him, and I can’t believe the time I already wasted not being with him. He’s…he’s amazing, and kind, and exactly what I want in a guy. If things get more serious then I’m sure the topic of babies will come up, and we’ll talk about it then. I’ll let you meet him when I think it’s time, not when you do.” You huff. “Now, can we please enjoy this lo mein? It’s delicious.”

Phil invites you to spend the night at his place after dinner, which you’re thankful for. You didn’t want to be lectured anymore. Just as you’re crawling into bed you get a FaceTime request from Harry.

“Hey!” You say a little too excitedly.

“Hey, birthday girl. Have I said happy birthday enough times to you today? How about one more: happy birthday, Y/N.” You bite your bottom lip as you smile.

“Thank you, Harry. You’re so sweet.”

“I can’t wait to see you, I think you’ll like what I have planned.”

“I can’t wait too.”

“Andy made you a card, I saw him today and he gave it to me to give to you.”

“Aw, he’s so cute. He’ll be home with you pretty soon, huh?”

“Yeah, couple more weeks.”

“Listen, um…I sort of told my parents about us tonight…I hope that’s alright.”

“You did?” He perks up.

“Yeah, they wanna meet you soon, is that weird?”

“I don’t know, is it weird that my mum and sister are dying to video chat with you?”

“You told them about me?” You swoon.

“Course I did…a little while ago, when I was still keeping how I felt to myself…think it was after Andy’s birthday party.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You’re so cute, Harry.” You smile. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Noah asked me to lunch…for some reason. Should be interesting. What about you?”

“Phil’s cooking for me all day to try out some new recipes.”

“Lucky duck.” You giggle at that.

“I’m tired so I’m gonna go to sleep, but I’m really happy you called. It’s nice to see your face.”

“It’s nice to see yours too. See you in a couple days.”

“Goodnight.”

Harry met Noah at a casual seafood place for lunch. They sat outside, and both ordered a beer with their lunches.

“So…not that I don’t like hanging out, but usually we do it with the kids around. What’s this all about?”

“Getting right to it, huh?” Noah chuckles. “Well…I guess, how do you feel about me, H?”

“How do I feel about you?” Harry laughs. “Well, if I were a prick I’d say you annoy me because you’re the guy fucking the mother of my kid, but I’m not so I won’t say that.” He smirks as Noah’s face falls. “Jesus, relax, mate, I’m teasing. I like you, obviously. You’re good to Andy, and to Paige.”

“You scared me for a second there.” He clears his throat. “We all have a nice thing going, this blended family thing.”

“Yeah, I’d say it’s all working out as well as it can.”

“Paige and I have been together for three years now, and we live together, and Rachel loves her to pieces, Andy too.” Harry hums his response and takes a sip of his beer. “We’ve chatted a bit, I know what she wants, so…I’m planning to propose next week.” Harry nearly chokes on his drink just as the waitress comes over with his food. “Sorry…”

“No, uh, no, uh, you just caught me by surprise.” He clears his throat. “Why are you telling me this? You want my blessing or something?”

“Sort of…look, after my wife, well…” He tears up slightly. “I never thought I’d fall in love again, and I love Paige so much. She’s been a great mother figure to Rach, not that I would let her forget her actual mother. If I’m going to be Andy’s step-dad, I wanna make sure his actual dad is okay with it.”

“Y-yeah, I’m okay with it.” Suddenly the food he was starving for made him feel sick. “Um, thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course!”

“Have you talked with her father?”

“God no.” He scoffs. “Would rather ask for forgiveness instead of permission with him. Besides, I think your blessing would mean more to her than his. I know how much she cares about you still, H.”

“Right.”

Harry does his best to make it through his lunch, but he gets most of it wrapped up, assuring Noah he just wasn’t that hungry. When he gets home, and puts his food in the fridge, he grips the counter and starts crying. He wasn’t sure what suddenly came over him, but there he was, alone in his kitchen, sobbing. It wasn’t that he wanted to be with Paige in that way, it just felt like a kick to the gut. He knew she would say yes to Noah, but she had said no to him. She didn’t love him enough to stay. She loved Noah more than him. Harry had you now, sure, but what if you’d never love him, or if you did, would you love him enough to stick it out?

You were very excited for your night out with Harry. You weren’t sure where he was taking you for dinner, but you wanted to look nice, so you go with a black dress that flows around your thighs. Your hair is down and wavy, and your make up is just on point tonight.

Harry: I’m here

You’re a little surprised that he didn’t ring your buzzer like he’s been doing, but you shrug it off. You’re even more surprised that he’s sitting in his car. Since you started dating he’s been waiting for you outside. You open the car door and get in.

“Hi.” You say brightly and kiss his cheek.

“Hey.” He gives you a soft smile.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“No reason…”

He pulls onto the street and heads towards the local movie theater that wasn’t really used for normal movies. It was a place for live bands, dinner and a show, sometimes they’d show old black and white films and someone would come to play the piano live, that sort of thing.

“We’re going to the Flying Elephant?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to eat and listen to some music.” He mutters.

He was off, you could tell he was trying to seem happy and excited, but something was definitely wrong. What could have happened in the last twenty-four hours? Your eyes widen you remember he had lunch with Noah yesterday, did they get into an argument?

Harry parks the car, and this time he opens the door for you like he usually would. He gives you a peck on the lips and smiles.

“You look really nice.” He says.

“Thank you.” You smile.

He leads you inside and one of the workers scans the tickets he got for the show. You follow him up to the small balcony where your table was. You had never been to an event at the Flying Elephant, but you had mentioned a couple of times that you would like to, so you thought this was very thoughtful.

“What kind of music is it tonight?”

“Jazz I think, but, like, the fun kind, big band style.”

“Oh, fun!”

A waiter comes over with your favorite bottle of white, two glasses, and a basket of bread. He says he’ll be back soon to take your order. Harry had clearly planned a lot of this out, so what was his problem?

“Got your favorite.” He smiles as you clink your glasses. “Happy birthday.”

“I see that, thank you, Harry.” You each take a sip, and then look at the menu. “Oh! They have a tofu marsala, that sounds nice.”

“I’ve had that here before, it’s really good.”

The waiter comes back and you both end up ordering the same thing. You take another sip of your wine and look around at the other people filling in. Harry’s quiet more than usual, so you decide to speak up.

“How was your lunch with Noah yesterday?”

“Huh? Oh…um, it was good.” He shrugs. “Nothing really to report.”

“So, did he just wanna hang out or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Harry…” You reach across the table and take his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Are you sure everything’s okay? We didn’t need to come tonight if something’s going on…”

“No! No, everything’s fine…I’m just in a funk I guess, I’m sorry. It has nothing to do with you, but I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Alright.” You sigh.

“I’m glad we’re here tonight, together.”

“Are you nervous about classes starting soon?”

“No.” He chuckles. “That’s, like, the least of my worries right now. Really, it’s fine, I’m just in my head about something stupid.”

“Well…if you feel like talking about it I’m here for you.” You smile softly.

“Thanks.” He gives you’re a hand a squeeze.

Luckily when your food comes out the music starts, and the tension breaks a bit. The band sounded incredible, and you both were having a wonderful time. A couple of the performers told jokes between sets, which had everyone in the audience hollering. Harry had the waiter bring a cupcake over to your table with a little candle in it for dessert. Birthdays weren’t really a bid deal to you, but it meant so much that he put so much effort in. You blow your candle out and split the cupcake with him.

“That was so much fun, thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, babe.” He puts his hand on your thigh as he drives you back home.

You relax a little at the pet name. You desperately wanted to know what was bothering him, but you didn’t want to push him since he said he didn’t want to talk about it. He pulls up to your building and turns the car off with a sigh.

“If you don’t feel like coming up you don’t have to…”

“No, I want to. I wanna spend time with you.” He smiles and gets out of the car, and opens your door for you.

“Can I get you anything?” You ask as you get into your place.

“Just a glass of water would be great.” He says, sitting down on the couch. You fill a glass for the both of you and him his when you come to sit with him. “Thanks.” He says as he takes a sip.

“The band sounded great, I’d like to do that again sometime.”

“Definitely. They show film festivals there sometimes too. I usually give my classes extra credit if they go.”

“Fun! I love a good film festival, what do they show?”

“All of the shorts nominated for Oscars usually. All of the animated ones too, it’s great. Although, usually they’re all really somber for whatever reason.”

“People probably figure sadness will get them the nom.” You roll your eyes. “I think it takes more skill to make someone laugh, but that’s just me.”

“A lot of the comedies I’ve seen have had some of the darkest or saddest moments.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Comedies can be really gut-wrenching.” You sip your water and set it down on the coffee table. He does the same, but twiddles his thumbs.

“Har, you’re killing me.”

“Why?”

“Because something’s wrong and you’re making me nervous.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you…”

“I know, but you’re here with me now, and you’re not all the way here. Just talk to me, please?”

“I…it’s stupid.”

“It’s not if it’s making you feel bad.” You put your hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is you can tell me.”

“At lunch yesterday Noah told me that he’s going to propose to Paige. He invited me out to get basically get my blessing or some shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Apparently they’ve spoken about it, so she’s going to say yes, which is good, they make a great couple.”

“So…what’s the problem?”

He looks at you, eyes glossy.

“I don’t know.” He whispers and shakes his head.

“Are you…sad that things are going to be so official between them?”

“Maybe…I mean, I don’t want her in that way, you have to know that, Y/N. I’m not sad because I’m in love with her or anything, those feelings have long since left, but…it just sucks, like, it’s just a reminder that I wasn’t worth sticking it out for or something. It brings back to such a shitty time in my life, you know?”

“Oh, Harry.” You rub at his back. “I’m so sorry…”

“it didn’t work for a reason, we were both really young, and she…she told me she wasn’t in love with me anymore, for whatever reason, I mean Andy was a total accident, I don’t know if she and I would have lasted with or without him. It’s not like we were a perfect match. I think we were always better as friends, but I was stubborn about it. When we hooked up those few times after things ended, that was me going to her, not her coming to me. I was so lost, you know? Look at me, it’s been over ten years, and it feel likes it happened yesterday all over again.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I get it, this is a big change that’s going to happen.” You chew your bottom lip. “I had a high school sweetheart, the kind that I thought I was going to be with forever and marry and have kids with. But when it came time for us to go to college we ended it to give ourselves some freedom. Well, about a month into school I go on Facebook and see he’s in a relationship with this girl that he had started talking to over the summer while we were still together. It crushed me. Now he’s married to her or whatever. It sucks when you thought you were someone’s number one, and it turns out you weren’t…but I also believe that things happen for a reason. I wasn’t meant to be with him, and maybe you weren’t meant to be with Paige. I think we all go through things on journeys that lead us to the person we’re supposed to be with.” He looks at you and blinks. “Sorry, I hate when I’m feeling like shit and someone tries to use their own story to relate because we all know that doesn’t do anyone any good, and I know I could never really know the feelings involved with having a kid with someone, but-“

He cups your cheeks and brings you close to him. He slots his mouth over yours and your eyes flutter closed. He gently sucks on your bottom lip and you groan into him. He lets go of you and smooths some hair away from your face.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “What you said did make me feel better.”

“Your feelings are valid, Harry, don’t discount them. I know it’s sort of awkward to talk to me about, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re going this alone.”

“The more I talk about it, I just feel silly. I’m happy for them, truthfully. He just sort of sprung it on me, but it all makes sense now looking back on it, like, why he’d wanna meet up alone.”

“Pretty respectful of him, not everyone would check in with the ex.”

“I know, it was really kind of him to consider my feelings. I’m sorry it put me in such a funk, I hope I didn’t ruin our evening.”

“You didn’t, it was really nice. Clearly you put a lot of effort in.” You cup his cheek and rub your thumb over his cheekbone. You peck at his lip and smile. “I think I’m too full to do anything, but if you wanna stay and cuddle…”

“I’d like that.” He smiles. “Sure you don’t mind?”

“No, I want you here. We can get cozy, watch a little TV, and pass out.”

“That sounds amazing.”

A couple of days later.

Andy stood there inside with Rachel watching through the glass door as Noah got down on one knee and proposed to Paige. He grimaced as he heard her squeal and nod her head yes as he slipped the ring on her finger.

“Can you believe it?! Now we’ll really be brother and sister.” Rachel beams at Andy before running outside to congratulate the two.

Paige looks around and frowns when she sees Andy walk away from the glass and further into the house.

“I’m gonna go talk to him, one second.” She says to Noah and Rachel. She goes upstairs and taps on his door before entering. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He was sitting on his bed hugging a pillow to his chest. Harry used to do the same thing. She sighs at the sight, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on? You’re not happy for me?”

“I just don’t understand how all of this works.”

“How what works, honey?”

“Being in love. You didn’t wanna marry Dad, but you wanna marry Noah? What’s wrong with Dad?”

“Oh, Andy, nothing’s wrong with Dad. I love Dad, but…we were so young when we had you and-“

“You say that like you were sixteen, you were twenty-two mom, almost twenty-three, it’s not that young.”

“When you get to be that age maybe you’ll see that it is actually a really young age to have a baby.”

“Whatever.”

“Andy.” She sighs. “I don’t really know how to explain it, I just didn’t see a future with your Dad. I didn’t wanna be the wife of a college professor. At the time, Dad put his studies over everything and I just couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. I became resentful, and I fell out of love with him. I wanted something else. Noah and I have a much better connection. Dad and I are good friends, which is great and helpful when it comes to you, but I haven’t seen him as anything more in a long time. Did you think we were going to get together?”

“No, I knew you and Noah would end up getting married, I just didn’t think so soon.”

“It’s a big change, I know…but really not a lot is going to change. He’s just gonna be my husband instead of my boyfriend.”

“He’s gonna be my step-dad.”

“Sure, but you can still just call him Noah. He doesn’t expect you to call him Dad or anything.”

“Good, because Dad is who I call Dad.” He huffs. “Rachel refers to you as Mum sometimes.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It doesn’t bother you?!”

“No…I told she could call me whatever she wants. I don’t mind it. I mean…I am sort like a mom to her. Is this why you like living with Dad more? You think we’re becoming a family without you?”

“No.” He mumbles. “I like being in school with Brandon…and Dad…like, Dad knows how to do my hair the way I like, and he takes me on fun trips, and he helps me with my homework.”

“I help you with your homework.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a teacher. He knows how to explain things to me better than you, and as much as I’ve liked swimming all the time, it’s boring just going to the lake every day. I’ve barely been hiking this summer.”

“You could have told me, I would have had Dad come get you for a weekend.”

“Yeah, just for a weekend. I hate going back and forth, Mum, I hate it so much. I just wanna live in one place.”

“Well, I’m sorry, that’s just not an option. I’d miss you too much. I missed you so much last year only seeing you on weekends.”

“Yeah? How do you think Dad felt before I got to live with him?”

“Andy, don’t speak to me like that. I’m trying to-“

“Well, stop. Just stop trying.” Tears well up in his eyes. “I wanna go home now, I don’t wanna stay here for another two weeks, I wanna go home now.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Honey…I don’t know if Dad can-“

“Then call him.” He wipes tears from his eyes. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.” He looks away from Paige and it breaks her heart.

She wasn’t sure what to do. Should just give in and let him do his thing, or should she just give him what he wants. She didn’t want him to resent her, or make him think he was held hostage here.

“Okay, I’ll call your father.”

She stands up and leaves the room. She goes downstairs where Noah and Rachel are.

“Where’s Andy? I thought we could all go get ice cream to celebrate.”

“Andy wants to go home, I need to call Harry.” She grabs her phone off the counter and goes down the hall to the office.

You and Harry were out for a walk by the river to watch the sunset. It was really romantic. You had stopped to kiss each other when he felt the buzzing in his pocket. He sighs and rests his forehead against yours as he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“It’s Paige, do you mind, babe?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He swipes to take the call. “Hello?”

“Hi.” She sniffles.

“Hi…um, are you alright?”

“No.” She swallows. “Andy wants to go home, to your home. He doesn’t want to wait two more weeks.”

“What happened? Is he alright?”

“He…he’s not happy with me. Um, Noah proposed…and I said yes.”

“Congratulations.” He says it sincerely, but he rolls his eyes.

“Thanks.” She sighs. “Andy and Rachel saw from inside the house, and he went right up to his room, and then he started saying all these things, and then he started crying and now I’m crying, and I…I don’t know what to do Harry, he hates me!”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“It’s like he doesn’t want me to be his mom anymore. He doesn’t want me.”

“He wants you, he just…might not want everything else.”

“That’s not fair. I deserve to be happy too. Ugh, you should have heard him. ‘Dad’s better at helping with homework. Dad takes me on fun trips’. I felt like a piece of shit.”

“You do plenty of fun things with him. He’s just…it’s a lot that’s changing.”

“Not really. The living situation is staying the same, I’ll just have a husband instead of a boyfriend. God, I wonder if he’s scared I’ll want another baby…”

“I mean…do you?”

“No! One was plenty, I’m too old.”

“You’re only thirty-four.”

“The store’s closed.”

“Okay, Paige.” Harry rolls his eyes again. You find a bench to sit down at to give him a little more privacy. “What do you want me to do, do you want me to come get him?”

“I guess so, I’m not gonna make him stay here if he doesn’t wanna be here, but I can’t not see him, Harry. We have to keep the weekend arrangements.”

“And we will. Maybe once he’s with me for a bit he’ll calm down. He’s a preteen now, maybe his hormones are starting to act up.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks over at you. “I can be there in like forty minutes, tell him to get his shit together. He’s gonna get a stern talking to, I can tell you that much.”

“Don’t angry with him.” She sniffles again.

“I can’t have him making you cry.”

“But he was crying, and-“

“You just got engaged, he could have acted better. He’s too old to be acting like that. I’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He sighs and comes over to you.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go pick up Andy, do you mind if we go?”

“Of course!”

You and Harry jump into his car and make your way to Paige’s house. When he pulls up he leaves the car running.

“Do you mind just waiting here a moment?”

“Not at all.” You smile and he nods.

He goes up to the front door and rings the bell. The door flies open and Andy practically flings himself onto Harry.

“Start putting your things in the trunk, I need to speak with your mother.”

“About what?”

“Andy.”

“Great, so you’re mad at me to?!”

“No one’s mad at you.” Paige says as she comes into view.

“Go put your things in the trunk, and then come back into the house the three of us are gonna have a chat.”

“Here, I’ll-“

“Let him do it, he wants to come home so bad, he can load his shit up.” Harry huffs and goes inside.

Andy was stunned, but he does as his dad says. When he opens the trunk he grins.

“Hi, Y/N!”

You turn around and give him a smile. A smile that says it’s good to see him, but he better not lollygag. Once Andy gets all of his things in the car, he goes inside and down to the office where Harry and Paige were waiting for him. Harry was leaning against the desk with his arms crossed, and Paige was sitting on the couch.

“I’m very disappointed in you.” Harry starts. “Your mum just got engaged, and you couldn’t even say congrats?”

“Right, because you look thrilled.” Andy scoffs. Harry and Paige look at each other and then back to Andy.

“You better check your attitude, or you’re gonna wish you were staying here. You can’t run from your problems, Andy. I’m glad you’re coming home, but it doesn’t change anything. Mum’s still marrying Noah. He’s gonna be your step-dad, and Rachel’s gonna be your step-sister. That’s just the way of it.”

“Noah loves you, Andy, and so does Rachel. I don’t understand, I mean, it’s been three years…”

“He’s not my dad, and she’s not my sister.” He huffs, crossing his own arms. “I don’t love them.” He could feel tears forming in his eyes again.

“I think…” Harry starts. “Maybe it’s time you start seeing Dr. Gardner again.”

“No!”

“Andy, you clearly have things going on that you can’t articulate to us, maybe talking to someone else could help.”

“I agree with Dad.” Paige speaks up.

“Of course you do, you’re always quick to pass me off so I don’t have to disturb your perfect life!”

“You said you wanted to go to Dad’s!” She stands up. “What did you want me to do, say no?”

“I don’t know! Even when I said I wanted to live with him you just let it happen!”

“Because you put up a fight when I even thought about saying no!”

“Whatever, I like living with him better anyways. I had the best year at school I’ve had in a long time, I have way better friends, and I can actually have a conversation with him.” He hands ball into fists. “I…I…I ha-“

“Don’t, Andy.” Harry interjects. “If you say that, there’s no taking it back.”

“God, fuck this!” Andy storms out of the room. Noah had taken Rachel for ice cream, so luckily they weren’t witnessing any of this.

“Andy!” Paige and Harry say at the same time.

“Hey!” Harry grabs Andy’s arms. He tries to yank it free, but Harry’s much stronger. “We don’t speak like that, do you understand me?”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a baby!”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“Harry.” Paige says. “Stop yelling at him. It’s not going to solve anything. Andy, you can’t speak like that to us, it’s not right. Dad and I have been breaking our backs trying to do everything we can to make you happy. We haven’t asked for much in return. I really want to marry Noah, but I won’t if it makes you that upset.”

“What?” Andy’s features soften and Harry lets go of him.

“I won’t marry him if it upsets you that much.”

“Paige…” Harry says.

“But…then you’d be unhappy, Mum.” Andy says. “I don’t want that.”

“We should have talked more about what it would mean if he and I got engaged and all that, I’m sorry I didn’t include you in those conversations.”

“I’m just confused about a lot right now…” Andy looks away. “I’m sorry for how I acted…it’s great that he wants to marry you.” He looks at Harry. “Can I still come home with you?”

“Yes.” Harry sighs. “Go get in the car, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Andy gives his mother a hug quickly, which surprises her, and then out the door he goes. Harry and Paige look at each other.

“What else do you think is going on with him?” Harry asks.

“I have no idea. I wish I did. I try to talk with him, get him to open up, but he’s very selective.”

“I’ll see if I can have a more relaxed chat with him. He’s only going into sixth grade, he shouldn’t be this moody.”

“Let me know when he wants to come back next…”

“I will. I’m sorry he spoiled everything.”

“He didn’t, they’re bringing me back a big old sundae, and I’m gonna stuff my face.” She smiles. “Look.” She holds the ring up. “Got my style just right.”

“It’s beautiful.” He smiles. “You know, Noah had a chat with me about all this, wanted my blessing and everything.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows raise. “Well, thank you for telling him it was okay.” She says facetiously. “Do you know if he spoke to my father?”

“He did not.”

“Good.” They both laugh. “Thank you…I don’t know how I’d handle him without you sometimes.”

“What are co-parents for?” He hugs her. “I’ll call you in a couple days, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

Harry comes out to the car where you and Andy were sitting in an awkward silence.

“Sorry bout that.” Harry says as he buckles up.

“No worries.” You smile.

“Do you mind if I drop you at your place, need to have some alone time with that one.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Harry looks in the backseat, and sees Andy with his chin resting in his palm. He sighs and faces forward again. He pulls onto the street, and makes his way home. Harry drops you off, and walks you to your door.

“I’m sorry about all this.”

“Hey, it comes with the territory.” You shrug. “Shit happens.”

“I’ll have less time to spend with you sooner than I thought…”

“Harry, don’t worry about me. Once school starts we’ll see each other every day. We’ll make time for date nights later, go take care of things with him. Seems like he really needs you right now.”

Harry kisses your cheek and gets back in the car. It’s silent until they get home. This time he helps Andy with his things. Once it’s all settled, they both sit in his room to chat. They each sit crisscross, holding pillows to their chests.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Harry says softly. “I know there’s gotta be more to all this.”

“There is.” He sighs. “It’s just…I feel like everyone around me is finding their true love.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mom has Noah, you have Y/N now, and…Brandon, ugh, Brandon started dating this girl Molly…she’s in our class, and they go to the same camp, and he told me they, like, kissed, and…now I feel like he’s never gonna make time for me anymore. I always thought relationships were for adults…I didn’t know he liked girls…I don’t like girls like that…not yet anyways.”

“Oh, Andy…it’s okay that you don’t like anyone yet, and this Molly girl isn’t Brandon’s true love. Odds are they won’t last long. You’re only eleven.”

“When he called me to tell me he was so excited he had his first kiss…and I felt…sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah, like, my stomach felt weird like I was going to throw up, and my chest started to hurt. I thought it was my asthma, so I took my inhaler, but it didn’t help.” Harry’s eyes grow wide. Andy was describing heartbreak.

“What did you say to him when he told you?”

“I told him that it was cool or whatever…but that was a lie.”

“It made you feel achy, huh?”

“Yeah, but I don’t really know why…”

“That’s okay, you don’t need to have it all figured out right now.”

“But what if when I see him next he wants to talk about her, or he wants to invite her everywhere?”

“You just need to tell him that you’re not comfortable with it, and that you’d prefer the one on one time. If he’s really your friend he’ll understand.”

“I just wish I knew what was wrong with me.” He starts sniffling. “I hate that I’ve been so mean to mum, I feel like I’ve been taking things out on her, and I know I hurt her today.” He starts crying, and Harry pulls him into his chest.

“Come here.” Harry lays him down with him, letting Andy cry into him and so he could cuddle him easier. Arms wrapped around him tight. “When you feel up to it you can call her to apologize.”

“She must hate me.” He hiccups.

“She doesn’t, I promise.”

“I don’t want her to know about why I’ve been upset.”

“Okay, it can stay between us.” Harry rubs Andy’s back with one hand and scratches his scalp with the other. “When does Brandon get back from camp?”

“In a few days.”

“Is that why you wanted to come back here? So you could see each other?”

“And because I missed you.” He snuggles further into Harry, and it nearly breaks his heart. He couldn’t remember the last time his son let him hold him like this.

“I missed you too.”

“Are things with Y/N going well? I feel bad, I know I messed up your date.”

“Things are good, and it’s okay. We were just out for a walk by the river, nothing special.”

“Is she your girlfriend yet?” Andy yawns. Poor kid’s had a long day.

“Not exactly, but soon I think.”

Harry lays with Andy until he’s in a deep sleep. He goes to his own room and texts Paige that Andy will call her tomorrow to talk some things through. Just as he’s about to put his phone down your name pops up.

You: I know it’s none of my business, but I hope Andy’s alright…is he?

Harry: thanks for checking in, he’s doing fine. We had a good talk, he even let me lay with him a bit. Poor kid felt bad about cutting our date short

You: you’ve raised such a sweet boy, honestly

Harry: maybe you could join us for dinner here some night, I think he’d like that

You: I’d love to, just name the night and I’m there

Harry sighs happily. Other women he’s dated in the past always thought it was cute he had a kid at first, but none of them ever understood that Andy came first. You were so cool about it, and he adored you even more for checking in.

Harry: hey…I like you a lot

You: hey…I like you a lot too

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