#lotta food talk here

[keeps-ache]

ooo that's minty babyyy

[jamiechildf]

Chopped Judge: Your steak was just a tad overdone and lacking salt, and that's why we had to chop you.. Me, sitting there with a bowl of Velveeta Mac n Cheese: Yeah shouldn't have overcooked your steak you dumb dumb

[tinachristeen]

Photos of You

Fem!Reader x Subbish!Daryl Dixon

word count: 20,498 (I hope)

NSFW.

Warnings: Explicit, full of horny, Minors DNI. Pillow humping, Sexual photographs, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Talks of alcohol, vague talks of Daryl's child abuse. That's pretty much it, can't think of any more trigger warnings.

"Hey, look what I found!"

Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of abandoned books in the corner of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick had sent you and Daryl to scavenge for, well, anything useful actually. The children needed new books to read, The pantry could always use more food, And you can never have too many medical supplies in an apocalypse. you and Daryl had thought you hit the jackpot when you came across an old, rather large, thrift shop with enough clothing and books to keep Alexandria stocked for a while. Daryl even found a recliner he seemed to like. Unfortunately, the universe has decided to make your lives a billion times more difficult ( as usual) by sending a decent-sized herd in your direction. you both made it out fine, with only a few bruises and at least 50 of the undead bastards still on your tail, so you both decided to look for a place to wait them out until morning. and like a beacon of light shining in the cold, damp night air, you both stumbled across a dilapidated shack with a set of metal doors protruding from the ground beside it. thinking it was your best chance at a safe shelter for the night, Daryl quietly opened the doors and moved down the stairs to scan the room for potential threats. Once he gave the all-clear, you shut the doors tightly and not even five minutes later, heard the shifting and shambling of the rotting undead above your heads.

turning on your flashlight, you scanned the room to take in your surroundings. it looked to be a makeshift bunker of some kind. It was pretty large, walls made from some kind of metal. In the left corner of the room, there was a bunk bed with gray sheets, colorful quilts, and rather comfy looking pillows. In the right corner, a little kitchenette with various appliances and cabinets for storage. In the middle of the room there was a wooden table with two folding chairs, cards and other assorted items strewn about the surface. you had to admit, besides how cold it was

"Do you think anybody lives here?" you asked Daryl as he started rummaging through cabinets to look for spare supplies. You watched as he brought two fingers down and gave the counter a quick swipe.

"Nah. S' a lotta dust"

You moved further into the room towards the table, where a storm lantern sat, untouched for months or even years. you pulled out your metal zippo lighter and palmed it fondly for a second. Daryl had given this to you months ago and it was one of your prized possessions to date. You recalled a time when you thought he would never give you a gift, or even talk to you for that matter. When you two first met, he wouldn't even look at you and only threw you the occasional snarl, and now he was one of your closest friends. He had really grown as a person since Atlanta... And you had grown fond of him.

Snapping back to reality, you tried to focus on the task at hand, lighting the lantern. with a single flick, the lighter produced a perfect flame. The damn thing was always reliable. The lantern roared to life and gave the room a soft orange glow. You moved around the room, lighting the other three lanterns that were meticulously hung for optimal lighting. You glanced over to ask Daryl a question, but it died on your lips as your eyes found him. From where you were standing, you had a perfect side view of his face. The light hit him as it danced in flickering shadows across his features. He knelt over a chest filled with blankets on the floor, concentration painted on his knitted brow. He looked pretty like this, his bangs falling lightly over his eyes while he moved about. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, one of his many admirable idiosyncrasies, like when he fidgets with something in his fingertips, or rubs his chin with the back of his hand.

You break from your thoughts again, mentally scolding yourself for once again getting side-tracked thinking about Daryl. You decide to at least try and look around for things that could be useful, focusing on a nightstand next to the bunk beds. It was a shoddy thing, looked like it was built out of a pallet and nailed together by a blind child. It had a drawer though, so that was a start. opening it, you find quite a few... interesting things. A chain of at least 15 condoms, a really expensive looking vibrator, a polaroid camera, a few boxes of film, and some already taken photos. Upon closer inspection, the photos revealed a couple in some very compromising positions. One photo in particular was a view of a woman laid out on a bed, sweaty and tense, breasts on display for the camera with her back to the sheets. You immediately begin striding over towards where Daryl was hunched over a box with an amused look on your face.

"Hey, look what I found!"

Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of books in the corner of the room.

"whatcha got there?"

You lower your hand, silently offering the pictures to him. He flicks his head to the side, effectively moving his bangs from his eyes for a better look. His cheeks fired up as he flipped through each picture and felt the embarrassment welling up in his chest.

"These too," you said lightly as you held up the chain of condoms and the vibrator with an amused look in your eye.

Daryl's blush spread from his cheeks to his shoulders, and his ears were comparable to the color of a ripe strawberry at that point.

"Some couple back a' Alexandria gon' enjoy 'em," He managed to utter. But oh, how he wished it was the two of you putting them to use instead.

"Oh hell no! this bad boy is mine!" you said, holding up the vibrator, "They can have the condoms though."

Daryl did NOT need that image in his head right now. Of you all laid out, that thing going between your legs, your moans filling his ears, maybe his name spilling from your lips...

The truth is, Daryl had been harboring a crush on you since the prison. He had to admit, the beginning of your relationship with him had a rough start. He was mean to you for no reason other than he was too scared to get close to you. Wasn't any easier with Merle in his ear all the time, "Tha' girl ain' gon' wantchu baby brother. you're just a lowlife." But after Merle was gone, Daryl had slowly realized that he hurt you over time. You avoided him around camp and used every excuse in the book to prevent spending any time with him. When Hershel's farm burned down and the group was on the run, Daryl would ask Rick to give him as many watch shifts as he could with you. And when the group found the prison, He did the same thing. Taking shifts with you up in the guard towers, bringing extra snacks he found on runs with him so you two could eat. Eventually, Rick started pairing the two of you up on runs, and you two made a flawless team. you both maneuvered expertly, like you were fine tuned to each other's movements and reactions. You both worked on the same brain wave, which came in handy when you needed to make quick decisions on an impulse. And eventually, the archer began to develop feelings for you. At first, he would find himself looking at you, admiring how your body moved when you took out walkers on the fence. Then he started thinking about you, finding little things on runs that reminded him of you and pondering o if you would like them or not. He didn't usually bring them back though, Merle still in his head telling him that it didn't matter how many gifts he gave you, you still would never see him like that. Eventually, the thoughts wandered. They progressed, and sometimes even followed him into the confines of his cell late at night, swirling in his head like a catchy song.

click.

The sudden sound caught him off guard. He looked up to see you chuckling to yourself with that bright smile he adored. He would do anything to see you smile like that, even if it killed him. He watched you with adoring eyes as you pulled the freshly taken picture from the slit in the camera and shook it back and forth. He felt embarrassment creeping up his neck again when you took a look at the photo and smiled. He took a deep breath to compose himself and choked out, "ya gon' lemme see the damn picture r' wha'?." He's trying his hardest to sound nonchalant, but deep down he was nervous, and sweat forming on his palms was certainly showing it.

You hand him the picture, and he replies with a scoff. "tch! I look ridiculous," He remarked while throwing the picture down on the floor.

"No, I think you look great."

He stiffened at that. Fuck! one more thing he's going to think about later when he's alone. He could already feel himself growing in his pants as he groans just low enough so you can't hear. 'Really? jus' a compliment 's giving ya' a hard on? c'mon man,' He reprimanded  himself in thought. The silence thickened, as you shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot with a sad-ish look on your face. 'Oh shit, she thinks she made ya' upset. respond asshol-"

"Well, I guess we should eat," you said, cutting off his thought process.

'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,' "Sure." 'you fucking coward'.

After that, you both sat down to eat your glamorous dinner of canned pork and beans. The uncomfortable energy had faded at that point, which was another thing Daryl loved about you so much.  You never dwelled on anything longer than necessary, and you always knew how to make the mood right. When you got up to go get something from the kitchenette, Daryl couldn't help but replay what you said in his mind. 'You look great,' what did you mean by that? maybe he imagined the whole thing. Yeah, that must be it. His eyes drifted down to the legs of your now empty chair in thought, where your backpack was propped. And maybe he was imagining this too, but he could swear he saw the corner of a polaroid picture sticking out of the front pocket...

That night he laid down on the bottom bunk of the bed in quiet thought, agonizing over his lack of response earlier, thinking about the picture. He wondered if you would silently resent him now because of it, or even more, he wondered if you wouldn't take his picture again. He always hated having his picture taken as a child. Once in a while, his mother would pretend to give a shit and try to take family photos to hang on the walls. He hated the pictures she took because his bruises were always visible, almost as if to taunt and humiliate him when he'd walk by the frames in the hallway. He's been sour towards pictures ever since, avoiding them like the plague. That was, until about an hour ago. He found himself hoping you would take pictures of him, even with him maybe. God, he would let you do anything to him as long as it made you smile.

His thoughts wandered again, making his cock stiffen in the tight confines on his jeans. Fuck! He couldn't do this now, you were asleep right above him!  The thought of you catching him made the burning feeling in his core worse somehow, as his pants became uncomfortably snug. He flipped over on his stomach in an attempt to diffuse the situation that had been building since the two of you entered this godforsaken bunker, but failed miserably when his sensitive tip brushed against the mattress, causing him to hiss out in pleasure. Fuck, he was a goner. Just then, he noticed the flannel shirt you had left on the floor next to the bunks. He felt shame at the idea that flashed across his mind, but convinced himself that it wouldn't hurt. He was about to do something he hadn't done since he was a horny highschooler. He pulled your flannel up onto the bed by the sleeve and brought it to his nose, taking a big whiff of the area around the neckline. He groaned in satisfaction and flipped on his back as he pushed his pillow on top of his hips and placed your shirt over his face. He reached down, lifting his hips off the bed just enough so he could free his red, throbbing, cock and push it against the surface of the pillow. The contact made him dizzy with anticipation as he thought about what he was going to do. He started moving his hips up in a thrusting, grinding motion slowly so as to not wake you up, moaning a little with each pull and push.

He thought of you as he chased his pleasure, as he always did. He thought of your hips and how they swayed when you walked. He thought of your hands, and how they felt that one day you grabbed his arm to show him something. He thought about that time you insisted on putting his hair in a ponytail, and how was he going to deny you when you looked all sweet and happy? The feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair to get it in the hair tie will be forever engraved into his brain. He thought about you on top of him, riding him while he holds that vibrator to your clit and brings you to your climax.

He whimpered a little bit, pushing the shirt into his face to envelope himself in your scent. you smelled so good to him, like that lavender soap you loved and leather books. The best goddamn smell in the world, or at least he thought so. His hips started to speed up as he became dangerously close to his high. The stark contrast in temperature between his hot, twitching dick and the cool, soft pillow sent shivers down his spine. The friction, The thought of you, Your smell, Your hands, Your mouth. It was slowly becoming too much for him to handle. He needed to cum. He needed to cum to you, FOR you. Then a thought hit him, what if you kept the polaroid because you were attracted to him? what if you kept it because you wanted to... use it. What if you thought about him like this, all sweaty and desperate for you??

oh

OH

That was it, That thought is what made his nerve endings light up all over. His climax came in white hot flashes of pure pleasure, His thick cock spurting long streams of warm cum all over his pillow and bare stomach. He moaned wildly into your shirt as he bit down on the collar, riding out the waves of his orgasm with reckless abandon and no concern for noise.

He laid there slick with sweat and semen, his hair stuck to his face and neck, breathing heavily as he shivered through the post orgasm cooldown. He stayed there for a good minute, still giving little thrusts that made him whine with sensitivity from the overstimulation. Ridiculing himself in shame over what had just happened, He slowly placed your flannel back on the floor where it had previously been and tucked himself back into his pants. He would just clean himself later. However, When he pulled his pillow back up to his head, he realized his mistake. in all his horny desperation, he had forgotten about the fact he had just cum on his pillow with no way to clean it. 'Way ta go dumbass, ya' ruined yer only pillow.' He shook his head as he threw the pillow under the bed and laid back down. Only one slightly embarrassing thought still crossed his mind before he fell asleep, 'I wonder if she'll take more pictures of me.'

Little did he know, that's exactly what would happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Morning came, and aside from the shame Daryl felt deep in his gut, the day went pretty well. You returned to the store you two were at the previous day, loading everything you could fit into the storage truck (especially Daryl's chair) and heading for home. The ride home had an awkward air to it, even though you tried your best to lighten the mood with jokes and gossip about the people of Alexandria. Daryl just couldn't keep the conversation going, too busy thinking about last night.

He lit a cigarette and opened the window to get some fresh air. You took notice of how the afternoon sun made his skin shine, and how his lips wrapped around the damn thing perfectly.

click

Daryl turned to you, watching you shake out the film again and giving it a good look.

"S' this gon' be a thing now?"

"Oh, absolutely."

He let a small smirk grace his lips and heard another click to his right.

"What? I rarely see you smile," You said, defending against his scrutinizing look. You gave the photo in your hand another studious glance. God, he was pretty. from the long, brown hair that graced his forehead, down to the stubble on his chin you dreamed about rubbing on your thighs. What would it feel like to have those angular lips drag across your body with need and desire? What sensations would those rough, callused hands make you feel? You bet he's rather dexterous on account of all the whittling he does with those arrows, and the pure skill his fingers use to expertly skin a deer. You bet he's really good at applying pressure in all the right places...

"Hey! Daryl, what the hell?"

Your attention is gripped by Daryl grabbing the camera from your lap with one hand and bringing it up to his face in one swift motion. He snaps a picture of you and glances at the road while he waits for it to print.

"'S my turn, sunshine."

Was he... Trying to be playful right now? The only other time he was playful was that night when you were both up in the guard tower and you challenged him to a game of knife throwing, to which he responded with a competitive grin and a, 'You're on.' You both threw your knives at a very well made target you had drawn yourself that was taped to the pole in the middle of the tower. The rules were simple, First person to hit the bullseye would emerge victorious. After three or four throws, you landed the shot perfectly, causing Daryl to sarcastically accuse you of cheating. Those nights in the tower were some of your favorite memories. Snacks shared over mutual silence, just enjoying each other's company and occasionally talking about random stuff. Such a simpler time.

"Are you gonna let me see the damn picture or what?" You remark, mocking him about the comment last night.

"Nah, don' think so." He retorted, taking a drag from his cigarette and puffing it in your direction.

You faked an offended look, watching him stuff the picture into his back pocket. You think nothing of it as you both make your last turn towards home...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Rick took it upon himself to throw a party for the new group that had arrived at the gates. You had to hand it to Him, The idea to put signs up on the major roads and train tracks had been a huge success. Alexandria had gained quite a few new members since then, most of which were actually decent people, which was hard to come by these days.

You invited Rosita over so you two could pick out clothes and do makeup together. You enjoyed quality girl time since You didn't have any sisters growing up. Rosita always helped you piece together outfits for these events, she was the self-proclaimed best stylist in Alexandria, not that you would disagree.

You stood in front of the mirror, Feeling the fabric of the dress between your fingertips. It was cute, a red sun dress that hugged your hips and showed off a considerable amount of cleavage. She paired it with a set of black strappy heels that accentuated your calves nicely. She also insisted on you keeping your hair up with two strands down in the front to, "make your collarbones and cheeks really stick out," or whatever.

"Damn mama, You look sexy as hell in that dress, I'm jealous. Daryl's going to love it."

You threw her a sour look.

"What? you know I'm right."

Deep down, you knew she was. "I just don't think he likes me like that Rosa," You said with a sigh. You gave yourself another look in the mirror with a droopy expression.

"That's a lie. Anyone would take the chance to be with you. If I swung the other way, I would sleep with you the minute I saw you, hermosa. And I KNOW Tara would too, That girl has a looking problem."

"Rosita!" You turn back to her with a shocked laugh.

She just shrugged and continued on, "What about that thing you told me about?"

" 'Sita..."

"You saw that man on the bottom bunk of that bed, Masturbating, right underneath you! And you still don't think he has a thing for you?"

You started to feel flushed, "That probably wasn't because of me."

"you're oblivious. Wait! was it big?"

"Oh. My. God. Stop."

Rosita cocked an eyebrow at you, expecting an answer.

"I- I didn't get a good look. It was dark and I didn't want to invade his privacy like that, so I just popped my head back up."

You remembered hearing him breathing heavily and dropping your head over the side to see if he was okay, Only to be met with the sounds of moans and whines and his face covered in some sort of cloth. probably to keep himself quiet so he didn't wake you... It definitely didn't work. You hate to admit it, but you listened to him carry on for another few minutes. Hearing him whine and moan so close to you had your underwear soaked and your legs rubbing together. When he reached his climax, it took everything you had not to make any noise. He was so vocal, and you were just aching for any kind of relief.

You couldn't help but touch yourself after you were sure he had fallen asleep.

"Bor-ring." Rosita said with a disappointed look, followed by her ushering you to come closer so she could start on your makeup. "Next time, Hop down there and assist him."

You chuckled, "Unfortunately, Rosi, I don't think there will be a next time. Now hurry up so I can start on you!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl heard a knock on his front door and shuffled off his new chair and up the stairs to answer it. He was not at all surprised to see Rick on his front stoop, holding a bag in his hand.

"What'd Ya want? M' not goin' to tha' damn party, so ya' might as well stop tryin'."

Rick knew Daryl hated these parties, but had to attempt to sway him to come anyway. When Daryl walked back into the house, Rick followed in hot pursuit all the way to his room in the basement.

"Come on, brother. Just give it a chance, you might enjoy yourself," Rick said as he stepped through the doorway.

Daryl flopped down on the wooden chair that he had pulled out from his workbench to face Rick, " 'S not gon' happen."

Rick had seen the way Daryl looked at you, like a desperate puppy who couldn't breathe unless in your presence. He was about to play dirty, but this was his last resort.

"Y/N is gonna be there."

For a split fraction of a second, Rick saw a hint of excitement in his eyes. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone.

"an' why's tha' matter?"

Rick walked towards Daryl with the bag still in hand, lowering his voice a bit.

"Wouldn't you like to look at her in person instead of staring at that picture you like so much?"

Daryl stayed silent. He couldn't trust his voice not to come out shakey.

"Here, I brought you some clothes and some other stuff."

Rick tossed the bag in Daryl's lap. Daryl opened the bag to find a pair of charcoal dress pants and a dark green button up shirt, along with what looked like hair gel.

" 'M not wearin' this shit." He said with a disgusted look on his face. "Don't even know how ta'."

"I can help you, And she'd like it. you know I'm right."

Daryl grunted in response, embarrassment welling up in his chest.

"Fine."

"Good. Now take a shower and put those on and I'll help with the rest." Rick said as he walked out of the room. "I'll be waiting out here.

Daryl drug his feet to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom and started stripping layers. As the water started to run, he got lost in thought. If Rick could tell he liked you, did you know too? What if you saw him and laughed at him because he looked dumb? Rick better know what he's talking about. He picked up his bar of soap and got to work on his legs, scrubbing vigorously until his skin had a pink tint to it. Now he was getting a little self conscious, trying to make sure his skin and hair was clean for you. He really would do anything to see you smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I look ridiculous."

"No you don't, now sit down and hand me the comb."

Rick was a persistent son of a bitch, Daryl had to give him that.

Rick ran the comb through Daryl's wet hair, slicking it all back and adding in some gel as he went.

"Alright, looks good! Oh, just one more thing." He unbuttoned the first two buttons on Daryl's shirt, causing him to let out an uncomfortable groan.

"Never leave the top two buttoned, Girls love to see a little chest."

Daryl threw the comb in Rick's direction as Rick dodged it and laughed. "I used to do this for my little cousin, He was a few years younger than me and he loved it."

"ya well 'm glad ya had yer fun, playin' dress up like I'm a damned doll."

Rick just chuckled in response and exchanged goodbyes so he could go get dressed and ready himself.

Daryl looked in the bathroom mirror, His nerves were getting the better of him. What was he doing? pretending like he wasn't redneck trash and dressing like an idiot. If Merle could see him now, he'd be having a field day with this. How was he even going to talk to you like this? You'd probably be too busy laughing to talk.

Well, at least he would see you smiling.

He shook the thoughts away and mentally prepared himself for the shitshow this was about to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rick smiled to himself as he entered his room to change.

He was happy to help his brother with any lady issues.

He was even happier that Rosita had come to him with this idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You slowly approached the front door to the party, silently wishing Rosita had never talked you into this. "Damn Rosita! And damn rick and his stupid parties." You thought to yourself as you took a deep breath in and closed your fingers around the chilled door knob. With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped inside.

The smell is what hit you first. Warm, home-cooked food and alcohol. A soft, upbeat tune played from somewhere deeper into the house. Before you could even process what was happening, Maggie had walked up to you, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you into a circle of people to chat, muttering something about needing to introduce you to the new people. You met a few new folks, Including some new guy named Mitch who was an architect before the world fell apart. you two got to talking, but in all honesty, you were only half paying attention once you realized Daryl wasn't there.

As if the universe listened to your thoughts, the door slowly creaked open and in came Rick and Daryl. And he looked... wow. All thoughts escaped you as you looked him up and down. He cleaned up well, His hair slicked back and that tight-fitting shirt made your head swirl with desire. The two buttons had been popped open at the top, giving you an excellent view of his collar bones and upper chest. Then his eyes met yours, and it was like there was no one else in the room. Quite a few people turned to stare, mostly from your group, probably in surprise at how clean he was. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and decided to throw him a little wave and a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl left his house and started his stride to the party in the brisk, cold night air. "Ya really let Rick talk ya inta this huh? ya stupid bastard, she's gon' laugh atcha when she sees ya like this. swear ta god im gon' kick Rick's ass later." He approached the front door of the event, hearing the music and laughter buzz through the door. He considered going home and changing out of the stupid outfit to save himself the embarrassment, just sitting in his new chair all night and reading one of the books he found on that run last week. He had only been out for ten minutes and already missed the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his old ratty shirt. Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around to find Rick smiling at him.

'fuck, too late now. The bastard caught me.'

"You'll be fine."

Daryl just offered a grunt in response as Rick opened the door and led them both inside.

The first thing Daryl noticed was you, it was always you. No matter if you were wearing the dirtiest rags you could find, or the most beautiful thing you owned, he would always be able to pick you out of a crowd. No matter what. The second thing he noticed was what you were wearing, and he would be damned if his heart was still beating after. He raked his eyes over every inch of you he could, taking in every agonizing detail. The black heels made your legs look strong yet delicate at the same time. his hands itched to run his fingers over your thighs while you sat on his lap, taking the pleasure you wanted from him. He longed to leave that red dress that showed the delicious swell of your breast on the floor of his room. When his eyes lifted to yours, he swore the world went quiet. your eyelashes fluttered as if you were trying to figure something out.

'Here it comes.'

But it never did. You only smiled at him and offered a small wave. And he offered one back.

Only then did he realize people were staring at him and he shrunk back into himself. He tore his eyes away from you and started walking towards the kitchen.

'Where's the alcohol?'

He made a B-line for the open liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Bourbon that would be his best friend for the night. He already felt sweaty and was thankful that cologne rick had let him borrow. He was still going to kill him later though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rosita swiftly walked towards you and you were already rolling your eyes before she ushered you to an unused corner of the room.

"Tell me you just saw what I saw, because I think I just had a stroke Y/N."

"Stop."

"Girl, that man showered and dressed up for you. His hair is out of his eyes, this may be a marriage proposal."

You had to admit, you were having less than pure thoughts about him right now, specifically his chest, which you thought about on a nightly basis at this point. That shirt brought out his ocean colored eyes perfectly, and you often wondered if you dove deep enough into them, would you ever be able to swim back to the surface? Did you even want to? How would they look closed tightly underneath you in an expression of pleasure? How would his mouth look pleading for more? How would that hair of his look spread out on the floor around his head like a chocolate colored halo?

"I have to admit, He does look rather handsome in that shirt." And you meant it. you REALLY meant it.

"Oh my god! You were totally just having a sex fantasy weren't you?" She said when she saw the ever so slight tint to your cheeks.

"Keep your voice down!"

Rosita gave you a knowing look and smile before you walked away and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lord knows you could use a cooldown right now. Once at the sink, you pulled a red party cup from the stack on the counter and filled it up with the tap. Turning around, you find Daryl in the corner, sipping a glass of amber liquid.

"Hey."

He looked at you and nodded in response.

Fuck it, why not bite the bullet?

"You look nice. That shirt is a pretty color."

All right. this time his heart might have actually stopped. His body tensed and the room suddenly shot up a few degrees.

'Oh no, no this again. say sum dumbass, tell 'er she looks good'

"Ya- mm," He choked up a bit and lifted the glass in his hand to his lips to take a sip of liquid courage. "Ya look great too. 'S a nice dress."

"Thank you, Rosita lent it to me for the night, along with this tacky purse."

You gestured to the oddly shaped handbag that was draped around your shoulder. The thing was sort of ugly-cute, but it was the only bag large enough to hold the things you wanted to bring tonight. Oh! That reminded you. Somehow without Daryl noticing, you pulled your beloved polaroid camera out and prepared it for a picture. Luckily, Daryl was staring straightforward and lifting his glass for yet another sip, making it the perfect opportunity for a photo.

click

Daryl recognized the sound all too quickly and made an annoyed face. You had been terrorizing him with that camera for the past week. Snapping pictures of him while he was working on his bike or checking the snares outside the wall. You had to have at least 7 of them by now.

He shifted his eyes between you and the camera before you finally lifted the picture to your eyes and smiled.

There was that warm feeling in his chest again.

Your gaze moved from the picture, to him, and back to the picture.

"This one is definitely a keeper."

"pfft, I look ridiculous."

"You look handsome." You have absolutely no idea what just possessed you to say that. you were sure Daryl was going to leave and never come back. Why would you say some stupid shit like that? Why wasn't he saying anything back?

Well, the truth was Daryl was in shock. He must be hallucinating, because He could have sworn you just called him handsome. Were you flirting with him or just being friendly? He tried to come up with something witty to say, but all he came up with was, "Stop."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night moved like molasses in January. You talked with a few other people about upcoming events, future runs, and guard shift schedules. You introduced some of the new people to long time residents of Alexandria you thought they would get along with.

Rick approached Daryl at some point in the night and attempted to get a conversation out of him. Deciding he had enough of Rick's shit for one day, He started towards the porch to have a smoke. Grabbing the bottle of Bourbon, he stumbled a little when he took a few steps and almost fell into the door. Shit, was he really that wasted? Whatever, a little more couldn't hurt. It was a party right?

You noticed him leave the room out the corner of your eye and contemplated following him to make sure he was alright. You felt ridiculous for even thinking like that. Daryl was a grown man who could take care of himself, he didn't need you bothering him all the time. But maybe he would like some company? He never seemed to mind spending time with you, sometimes it seemed like he would even seek it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air outside was a nice change from the stuffy atmosphere in the house. Stepping out on the porch, you immediately noticed Daryl leaning on the railing, a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of alcohol to his left. You cleared your throat to alert him of your presence and prevent him from getting startled. The moment he saw you, His face broke into a dorky grin and he dropped the cigarette into the ashtray on the banister.

"Hey, 'S you"

Was he drunk?

"Ya here ta see me?" He looked around for other people you could be there to see.

He was so drunk.

"D'ya want sum?" He slurred as he lifted the bottle towards you.

He was wasted.

His eyes looked so happy as he offered you the bottle. You had never seen him like this, it was uncharted territory in your friendship. You realized he was waiting for a response so you just smiled and shook your head no.

"How much have you had?" You said as you approached the banister and leaned on it with one arm.

He lifted the bottle and squinted his eyes at it like he was trying with all his power to see, then brought his thumb and pointer finger to the side. He looked like he was trying, and somewhat failing to measure how much had been taken from the bottle. When he was satisfied with his measurement, he held the two fingers up in your direction.

"'Bout tha' much."

You thought this was the most adorable thing you had ever seen, besides that time Judith had chocolate cake all over her face and threw some at Carl. You sat there admiring Daryl with a smirk as he picked up his cigarette and took a drag, a swig of Bourbon followed closely after.

"Daryl Dixon, you are the pinnacle of health, you know that?"

" 'anks, Got it from ma dad."

Your face drooped a little at that. You remember Daryl telling you stories about his family on one of your late-night guard tower talks. He didn't outright tell you his dad was abusive, but he gave you enough pieces to build a very depressing puzzle. It wasn't a very happy puzzle either. You recalled the story about his 13th birthday. His mom forgot what day it was and His dad passed out on the couch watching old black and white movies. But Merle? Merle tried his best to give his little brother a good day. He bought Daryl a little cake from the convenience store in town and presented it to him at the local park. Daryl always said that Merle could be mean, but he still cared for Daryl as best as he could. As best as he knew how.

You took your camera out of your bag again and Daryl looked at you in sad confusion.

"why ya' always tak'n pictures o' me?"

You sighed and began piecing together your explanation. He probably wouldn't remember any of this anyway, so why not?

"Because you are Beautiful, Everything about you is. You are strong, and capable, and when the light hits you at the right angle, it's impossible to resist saving the moment. Your facial expressions are so unique and rare that it makes me want to capture them all and hang them up for everyone to admire. I would paint murals of you if I could find enough wall space to do so."

You hesitated for a split second before bringing your fingers up to his chin.

"You are the most amazing man I have ever met and you don't even know it, do you?"

He stood perfectly still, but not tense this time. He narrowed his eyes in focus like he was trying to sober up to remember this moment.

"y-ya really think tha'?"

Instead of responding, you just moved to his side and brought the camera up to put you both in frame. You got a little closer to him so your head was almost resting on his arm

"Of course I do."

...

Click

...

You brought the camera back down, Grabbing the fresh film and shaking it to cool it down. You turned over the photo, only to realize Daryl had been staring down at you instead of into the camera. You chuckled as you turned towards him to show him the picture.

"Hey big guy, you were supposed to look a the ca-"

You stopped your sentence when you met his eyes. He was still looking down at you. It felt like he was staring into your soul with puppy eyes and nestling his way into your heart with each passing second.

In all your months of friendship, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. You felt two arms snake around your back and a head rest on your shoulder before you realized. Daryl Dixon was hugging you. And... sniffling?

"Daryl, are you alright?" You asked, worried you might have hurt him in some way.

No response.

You pulled away from him and saw that his eyes were a little wet, so you brought your thumb up to wipe them away. Normally, you wouldn't even think about being this close because he hated when people touched him. But right now, He looked like he needed it. It hurt you to see his beautiful eyes filled with tears, no one this sweet should cry.

"No ones ever said tha' 'bout me."

Your heart broke just a little bit more.

"Well it's true. Now, I'm going to tell Rick I'm calling it a night. Wait right here so I can walk you home."

Just as you walked away, Daryl grabbed your wrist to get your attention.

"Ya don't have ta leave 'cause of me."

Even when he was drunk, he was still as considerate as ever.

"Honestly, I'm getting sick of being here. It's too hot and my feet are starting to hurt from these damn shoes." You offered with a light-hearted laugh. "I'll only be a second."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Leaving so soon?"

You loved Rick, but sometimes you were really sick of his shit.

"Yeah. I'm taking Daryl home."

He raised a playful eyebrow at you. The asshole.

You sighed with annoyance, "He drank too much and I want to make sure he gets back okay."

"Well, that's very nice of you."

"Shut up rick."

He laughed that annoying laugh and gave you the go ahead to leave while Rosita gave you a look. You swore to yourself at that moment you would never show up to one of these parties ever again for as long as you lived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, come on." You motioned for Daryl to follow you.

He silently obliged.

"Alright, now give me your arm so I can keep you from falling down the steps."

He held his arm out for you and you wrapped your own around it. When touched him, his skin buzzed from the contact. He had never been this close to you, and his drunk brain questioned why he hadn't tried to sooner.

You successfully led him down the front deck steps and towards the road with few complications. He was still stumbling like a child trying to walk for the first time, and you found it pretty adorable how he put his hands out a little when he felt unstable. You both walked for a few moments in silence until Daryl lost his balance over a curb and fell into you, grabbing you for support, almost sending you barreling over.

“'M sorry. ya shouldn' have ta take care o' me like this.”

"I already told you, I don't mind it sweetheart."

He flushed at the pet name as he straightened up. Those goddamn pants Rick gave him were already too tight, but it was even more so now.

"Do you have your keys?"

"Hmm?"

"Your house keys bub. Do you have them? The door is locked," You asked him in as clear a voice as you could. He fumbled through his pockets as you waited patiently for him to produce them. He checked his last pocket and felt something jingle. Pulling them out, he placed them in your hand and watched you search the key ring for the correct one.

When you slotted the key into the door, you felt Daryl wrapping his arms around your waist from the back. You froze as he buried his head into the hair that fell against your neck. You heard him take in a large breath, like he was trying to smell something.

"Ya smell so good."

A heat grew in between your legs and you couldn't move. It was wrong to be turned on by Daryl when he wasn't in the right state of mind, but the way his body felt pressed against yours had your cheeks warm and your eyelids feeling heavy. You almost collapsed when his embrace got tighter.

"D-Daryl, honey, you have to get off so I can open the door."

"Mmm." He reluctantly let go of you and you shakily turned the key and opened the door.

"Can you make it from here?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, that answered my question." You chuckled and stepped inside.

"ya have such a nice smile. Makes me happy ta see it."

"Thank you. I'm almost upset you won't remember any of this. come on big guy, let's get you settled and in bed."

By pure luck, you somehow managed to conquer the stairs to the basement with Daryl in tow. You opened the door to his room and ushered him inside to sit him on the bed.

"Hold on, I'll be right back. Change your clothes while I'm gone." The thought of him naked briefly made its way across your mind, but you shook it off and focused on getting him something to drink and eat. You entered the kitchen and made a mental note of things you would need. First off, water. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it down on the counter. Next you needed something easy on the stomach. Looking in the pantry, you spotted a pack of saltine crackers. Perfect! That's what you used to eat when you had the flu. If it could work for sick ass you, it could work for drunk ass Daryl. You figured he would need something for the inevitable headache. The medicine cabinet was just over the refrigerator, you remembered from when Abraham needed antacid and the only person who had some was Daryl. It was a struggle to reach, but ultimately a small hurdle to clear. You mentally patted yourself on the back for a successful and bountiful expedition, and headed back down the stairs. You knocked on the door and heard an affirmative grunt from the other side.

"Alright, I have some water for you, some food too. and ibuprofen for the headache. Don't drink too much, you're gonna be thirsty in the morning."

Looking over at him, you noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt. Now, you knew Daryl had been through a lot during the end of the world, and most of it left scars. But some of the scars littering his torso looked old, really old. You deduced that these were most likely marks left by his father, and most of them looked like healing came rather hard. How could anyone do this to a child? Especially someone as sweet as daryl?

You realized he was looking at you, waiting for you to continue.

"I brought you some crackers too, Eat them in small amounts or you will regret it."

He stared at you as you walked towards his nightstand and placed the items there.

Months of watching you. Months of hearing your sweet voice. Months of watching your thighs peek out from your shorts, and Daryl had enough.

You were startled as you felt a rough force pulling you downwards and it took you a second to realize where you had landed. Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, His warm lips found their way to your neck.

"D-mm." Your words were interrupted by Daryl moving his hips upward. You could feel how hard he was and it made you cry out with pleasure. He was holding on to you with pure desperation, Every inch of your body felt like it was burning up.

He moved his lips away from your neck to speak, "I need ya', please Y/N. I need ya ta take me. Y-Ya can h-have me any way ya want. I need ta feel ya." He punctuated the sentence with a thrust upwards that left your head empty and your mouth unable to function. "I-I want ya so much, sunshine. Want ya ta hold me down an-...an`." His hips bucked up wildly and He let out a grunt as his hands left trails of fire down your shoulders and arms.

"Daryl, w-we can't."

He grunted in frustration and looked up at you with big, sad eyes.

"Why? You don't want ta? With me?"

His voice wavered on the last two words and you felt terrible, but he was under the influence and you were worried he didn't really want this. You just didn't want to take advantage of him...

"You're drunk Daryl. I don't want you to regret doing this," You motioned between the two of you, "With me. You might not even remember."

"S-so ya do want ta?"

You leaned down to place your lips on his forehead.

"More than anything."

You took his hands in yours and spoke.

"I'll tell you what, If you remember this in the morning and you still want it, you come find me."

You couldn't help but frown a little as he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes full of sadness. You brought your finger up to his forehead and ran it over his brow bone, then down his cheek and on to his bottom lip. He kissed your fingertip and you smiled.

"Tomorrow, imma come find ya."

"I'll hold you to that, love."

Daryl sighed as you wiggled out of his lap, already missing the warmth of you against him. He flopped backwards on the bed and grabbed his pillow, shoving it under his head.

You padded your way back to the front door where you had left your heels and purse, all the while thinking about what just happened a few moments ago. Daryl fucking Dixon was kissing and begging for you to take him, and you felt him... All of him. You wanted nothing more than to rip off the layers of clothes that separated the two of you to feel him even more. Tonight's events got you thinking, what if Rosita was right? What if that night in the bunker, he was thinking about you?  You shouldn't get your hopes up, he was most likely just drunk and horny. You've never seen him show any sexual interest in anyone, so he was probably as pent up as could be and just relieving a little bit of the pressure. As unlikely as it was, you hoped he wanted you like you wanted him. His words were like fireworks in your mind, bright and explosive with sparks of color.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

After such a long night, your bed felt like a toasty marshmallow. Your feet were aching, your thoughts were racing, and your body was at its limit. You needed a day of rest and at least three ibuprofen, but a glass of milk and 6 hours of sleep would have to do.

Before heading to bed, you pulled out your leather bound journal and added your new pictures from that night to the pages of your choosing, along with descriptions of each. This was a new thing you started doing after the day you found the camera. You got a few of Glenn and Eugene talking about video games, one of Carl stuffing his face with cupcakes, which was definitely a keeper. Your fingers stopped when they reached the pictures you took of Daryl earlier, especially the one of him looking at you. You decided to keep them out of the book and put them in your nightstand, along with your camera, for safekeeping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Daryl noticed was the jackhammer someone let loose in his skull. The second thing Daryl noticed was the unbearable amount of light seeping through his basement window. Seriously, who gave the sun the right to be that fucking bright? He sat up and rubbed his eyes to try and rid himself of the mount Everest sized migraine, effectively making it worse. Great, a wonderful start to the day. He figured he might as well brush his teeth to get rid of alcohol breath. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A bottle of water, some pills that looked suspiciously like ibuprofen and... Were those crackers? No way he would have gotten these for himself, he's never done that before, just came straight home and passed out. which means someone brought him home. Someone very considerate.

He took the ibuprofen and washed it down with some water, then ate some crackers to settle the unease in his gut. He tried to desperately remember what the hell had happened last night. He got to the party with Rick and... drank. Ah, that explained the memory loss. He remembered you, and that dress. You took a picture of him, he remembered the camera lens pointing at him, but nothing else. He felt the gel Rick had lent him still stiff in his hair, which meant he had to wash it out. No way in hell he was taking another shower, so a quick wash in the sink would work good enough. He dipped his head down and turned the water on. If he saw Rick today, He made a mental note to hit him.

He lifted his head to stare into the mirror, and his hair was back to its normal self. Perfect! time for toothpaste. He thought about you and tried to recall if he even talked with you. After all, even though he would never admit it to Rick, he DID come to that party for you. He hoped he wasn't an asshole to you, he had a habit of being like that after enough to drink. He needed to figure out what happened, and he knew that someone at that party would have answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"yes?"

Rosita looked tired when she answered the door, eyes droopy and face turned down in a frown. Her face changed when she saw who was on her front stoop. "Well, if it isn't Romeo. Tell me, what can I do for you at 'way too early for this o' clock."

"Wha' happened a' Rick's dumb party last nigh'?"

"Straight to the point then." She motioned for Daryl to come inside, but he shook his head no.

"Jus' tell me."

"Other than you showing up looking like Al Capone? You drank a lot and Y/N... Took you home." Rosita gave him a suggestive look and if he was being honest with himself, he was shitting bricks. Did something happen with you last night? He would remember if you two... Wouldn't he? Of course he would, it was you, and you were unforgettable. His stomach was churning nonetheless though.

"Ya' didn't hear anythin' else?

"Well...''

"Jesus, jus' fuckin' tell me."

"Alright, Alright."

And she told him everything. She told him about the conversation she overheard on the porch, or at least the little portion of it she heard before she gave you two some privacy. She didn't have to say anything else though, Daryl started remembering a little. And then he remembered a lot. Then he remembered all of it. Everything.

He needed to find you.

He needed to find you NOW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The knocking on your door grew quicker and louder with each passing second. Who the fuck woke you up and what the fuck did they want. You swore on your mother's grave that if it was Rick, you were going to beat him with your slipper.

"Y/N, are ya home?"

You cut him off mid-knock by opening the door.

"Daryl, are you okay? Is someone hurt?"

The look on your face almost broke him in two before he remembered why he was there.

"Can I come in?"

You opened the door and made a mock butler stance, bowing your head and gesturing towards inside. He walked inside and shut the door behind him rather quickly.

"Jesus, somebody is antsy-"

He got close to you, close enough that you could smell the scent of that cologne still radiating off him in waves.

"Did ya mean it? please tell me ya meant it! tell me ya want ta and we- I-. 'Ve been thinkin' 'bout this forever. dreamin'."

You looked at him in confusion, studying his hopeful features. To be fair, you had just woken up and were not firing on all cylinders. You usually needed a cup of coffee and some food in order to even see correctly. Then it hit you.

oh.

That's what he was here for.

"Yes, I meant it." You DEFINITELY meant it. You wanted him more than anything.

"Good," Was all he said before attacking your lips with his in desperation, as if you would vanish when he stopped to take a breath. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm, like a fresh meal just waiting to be devoured. Your hands threaded through his messy hair, tugging just a little. He groaned and you pulled him down so his head was level with your mouth.

"Any way I want?" You asked, mimicking his words from the previous night.

You heard his breathing stop suddenly for a moment.

"A-any way ya want."

"Follow me, beautiful."

He obeyed and trailed after you, hand in hand, up the stairs towards your room. His nerves were starting to catch up to him and he wished he was as confident as drunk ass Daryl right now. What if you didn't want to be with him and you only wanted to satisfy an urge? This time he didn't let what Merle said, or even his own overthinking, get to him though. You wanted him, you really wanted him, and nothing else in the world mattered to him right now except that. Even if you only wanted him for pleasure, he could learn to live with it. As long as he got to be close to you. He told himself that multiple times as you led him down the hall, and the truth was, it was a lie. He wanted to be with you in every sense of the word. He wanted to wrap his arms around you at night, and confide in you about his worries, and take pictures of him, and put his hair in a fucking ponytails every day so he could see the smile that lit a campfire under his heart.

You opened the door to your room and led him inside. "Everybody crashed somewhere else for the night, so don't worry about being loud. Although, you really didn't seem to care when we were in your room." You shot him a sarcastic grin but stopped when you turned to look at him. He had an embarrassed aura about him and his eyes were diverted to the left. You put your arms around the back of his neck and spoke in a low, suggestive tone, "Your little noises made me so wet, sweetheart. Couldn't stop thinking about them all night."

His cock jumped a little at your words. He was growing in his jeans, and you seemed to take notice. You turned around in a brisk stride towards your bed, and swayed your hips with each step. Daryl was quick to follow as you sat down on the edge and beckoned him.

"Undress yourself for me, sexy."

He stood in stunned shock as he tried to process what you just said. Y-you wanted him to strip for you? He'd never done that before. Well, he had never done much of anything before actually. He wasn't technically a virgin, but just barely. Despite his nerves, he was aching at the thought of being on display for you, so he slowly shucked off his vest and started working at the top button of his sleeveless flannel. No matter how hard he wanted to be sexy and keep eye contact, his brain failed him and his eyes drifted down to focus on his hands. He managed to get two buttons undone before pausing.

You knew immediately what was wrong and you stood up to take his hands in yours.

"I-"

"It's alright Daryl, I uh- I already saw last night, remember? You don't have to continue if you don't want to. You can keep your shirt on, or we can stop if that's what you want. No pressure, all you have to do is tell me. But I want you to know that you are the most breath-taking man I have ever met, and nothing can ever change that."

You rubbed his hands with your thumbs and smiled up at him, trying to tell him how much he meant to you without uttering a single word. His eyes almost welled up in tears from the onslaught of emotions you made him feel. You dropped his hands and softly grabbed his chin, waiting for his answer.

He somehow mustered up the words in his chest and spoke, "I don't want ta stop. P-please."

His little beg went straight to your core. "Then don't," You said as you sat down and leaned back on your forearms.

With each button that came undone, more of his toned chest was exposed to the chilled air in your room. He looked up to see your expression as he reached the last button, your expression looked... hungry. No one had ever stared at him like that before. He weirdly liked it. He watched your eyes rake over his torso as he shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He was so hot right now, so completely turned on while he stood in front of you, as vulnerable as could be. 'Slow down ya dumbass...'f she wants a show 'en giver 'er a show,' He thought to himself as he reached for his belt. He got the buckle free and pushed his hips forward ever so slightly as he slowly pulled the belt out in one tug. He felt stupid for the attempt until he saw you rub your legs together the slightest bit in arousal. He pulled his jeans down over his hips and ass, making his erection slightly more visible to you, and he saw you lick your bottom lip and pull it between your teeth. That meant you liked what you saw, right?

Sensing his question in the air, you spoke, "You are doing so good Daryl, you look amazing for me. Such a god boy."

Your words spurred a sudden confidence and arousal through him. He turned his head to he side, shutting his eyes tightly as he hooked both his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers. He hissed as he dragged the boxers down his legs, making sure his cock was pushed down until the elastic caught on the rim of his sensitive head. He stayed there for a second, making sure you got a full view of his heaving chest and veiny shaft.

"Daryl. stop."

Fuck! Fuck! you didn't like it. You thought this was stupid and he was trying too hard. You decided you didn't want to do this with him-

"Can I take a picture of you? Like this?"

Y-you wanted a picture of him? Like this? T-to keep? God, his cock was throbbing at that thought and he couldn't form words right now, so he just weakly nodded his head.

"Don't move. you look perfect just like this." The praise was making his head weak and his skin glossy with sweat.

You reached into your nightstand and pulled out the camera which was, thankfully, pre-loaded with quite a bit of film. He watched you lift the camera to your eye and speak, "Look at that, so beautiful." You could see the effect your words were having on him. "Look at that sexy chest, and that thick shaft. I bet you are going to feel amazing buried inside me Daryl." He whined a bit and moved his head to the side, most likely to hide his embarrassed flush.

*click*

"Look at me, sweet boy."

He obeyed.

*click*

"F-fuck. Y-ya love takin' pictures, don't ya?" You could hear how horny he was by his speech, and it was really starting to get you going.

"How can I resist when you look so damn tempting. I'm gonna stare at these when I miss you and get myself off to he thought of your hands on me Daryl."

"Ahhhh," He moaned as he lowered the boxers enough to let his hard cock spring upwards and bounce a bit. He just needed relief, just a little relief. He was big, bigger than average, and you knew it.

"I want it in my mouth baby, only for a second, will you let me?" He nodded furiously and already walked towards where you sat on the bed.

" 'Ve never had s-someone- not with their-"

"I'll make it feel good for you sweetheart, I promise. Just enjoy the way it feels." You said as you brought a hand to his pink tip and lightly ran it over his slit.

"G- ahh." He started whimpering lightly.

"I've barely touched you yet angel, and you're already singing for me. Are you sure you can handle more?"

He nodded in response and you closed your hand around his length and started slowly stroking. His hips were shaking a little, this poor man was so pent up it wasn't even funny. You then leaned your head down a bit and opened your mouth to drop his tip on your tongue, and his knees started to wobble when you took him into your mouth fully. Your throat was like heaven around him, hot and wet and tight, so tight. You kept eye contact with him as you worked at his cock, smiling a little when you saw his head throw back in pleasure. Your tongue traced every vein on his girthy meat until you were satisfied you had memorized and mapped out every single one, and by the time you were done, Daryl was panting for air in between moans.

"Now, what was it you told me you wanted me to do? Hold you down and..?"

The sound of his dirty words leaving your lips was the most erotic thing he had ever heard.

"Come on, big guy, use your words."

"H-hold me down an- an f-fuck me 'ntill I can' T-take it." His words were failing him and he felt stupid for not being able to say a single dumb little sentence. He wanted nothing more than to be underneath you while you used him for your pleasure, as long as he got to touch you.

"Lay down then honey,” you said, pulling his arm towards you.

He still couldn’t believe what was happening, even though it was unfolding before his eyes. All the months spent telling himself hell would freeze over before you considered him an option, and here he was, laying on your bed waiting for you to have your way with him. He watched in awe as you started removing your shirt.

“Do you want to help?” You asked him and he nodded in response. “Words baby.”

“Y-yes.”

He went to put his hands on your stomach where your shirt ended, but stopped before he could touch you.

“Are you okay Daryl?”

The genuine concern in your voice toyed with his heart strings in the worst way possible, and he was reminded of how much he actually adored you. You were so caring, understanding, and thoughtful. How was he going to tell you he didn’t know what to do? How was he going to tell you he was nervous to touch you and mess up? Luckily, you spoke up.

"You're overthinking Daryl, I can practically hear the racing thoughts. tell me what's going on in there." You lift your pointer finger and tap at his forehead.

Here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Daryl shakily spoke,

" 'v Jus' never done this before really with anyone and I-I jus' don' want ta mess this up because I r-remember tha' time at the prison when y-you and Rick were in the garden... t-talking 'bout your high-school days an' all the guys ya've... and..." His eyes lower from yours, and his voice softens to a whisper, "Ya' just have so much more e-experience 'an me when it comes to ta'... this."

Oh, that's what he's worried about?

You open your mouth slightly to begin your reassurance, to let him know it didn't matter to you and you want him no matter what, but he hurriedly started up again.

"I jus' want to make ya' feel good Y/N, I-I think about it all the time. when 'm alone a-at night, touching myself ta' the thought of ya'. the thought of bein' b-buried inside of ya'... I d-don't deserve ya'"

The fire that has been lit by Daryl is now burning with reckless abandon, only stroked by his breathless, heartfelt confession.

"Daryl, look at me."

His face doesn't move, still pointing towards the left of the room somewhere, obviously embarrassed.

"Look. at. me." You grab his chin softly, resting your thumb under his lip, and tilt his head towards you. When his eyes meet yours, your breath stops. You have never seen a man look more lost and full of need in your life, and it breaks your heart to see him like this.

"Daryl Dixon, there is not another man that has, is, or ever will be on this planet that I will want more than I want you." You lean down to his ear and lower your voice, "There is no man I would rather have buried inside me, experienced or not."

He moans lightly, and you feel his cock twitch under you.

"T-tell me what ta' do Y/N. T-tell what ta' do ta' make ya' F-feel good an' I'll do it. Please. I'd do anything ta' please ya'."

"Fuck, Daryl, I can't handle it when you beg like that."

"D-do ya' like it when I beg?" He looks uncertain, and you reassure him with a soft kiss on his nose. The sweet and seemingly innocent gesture makes his face warm.

"Yes, very much. Take off my shirt for me."

He obeys, hands shaking, but only slightly. His gaze burns trails of heat up and down your abdomen as he reaches out a thumb and places it over your naval, rubbing at the skin softly. He looks up at you, assumedly for permission, which you hastily grant with a controlled nod. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Daryl's hands trail up your stomach and towards your back, moving ever closer to your bra clasps.

His fingers work at the little hooks for a few moments before he turns a whole new shade of red and drops his hands to your lower back in defeat.

"Need help?" You ask quizzically.

"Y-yes... please. 'm not sure how ta' yet."

You giggle a little bit but immediately stop when you hear him groan in frustration. Oh no, you hadn't meant to make him upset. He wasn't used to a little playfulness in between the sheets. You pull the clasps of your bra and slide it down your shoulders ever so slightly, you want to leave him the pleasure of removing the garment himself. You grab his hands and pull each of them up to the bra straps hung low on your shoulders. As he pulled the bra free from your chest with a muted gasp, his eyes widened in awe. You both stayed there a moment as he studied every hill and valley on your chest. His eyes met yours in a desperate yet silent plea.

"You can touch me Daryl, go on pretty boy."

The nickname makes him involuntarily move his hips in a wave of unexpected pleasure. You take note of this and decide to stow that information away for later. Led bravely by your words, he reached his palm up and cupped it over your right breast, testing the weight of it in his large, warm palm.

"Shit, 's so...soft," he grunted, experimentally pinching your stiff nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot electric currents through your nerve endings and earned him a short but sharp inhale of breath from your lips. His eyes widened in horror as his hands recoiled from your skin. "S-Shit Y/N, Fuck! 'm sorry, did I hurt ya'? I told ya' I weren't no good a' this-"

Sensing the panic in his voice you cut him off without letting him finish his ramblings. "NO! No! Daryl that felt great. do it again, please. Your hands feel amazing on me." You waste no time in pulling his hands back to your chest and using his fingers to pinch your nipple again. All reluctance vanished from his features when he heard you moan in pleasure and press your still very clothed core against his very naked cock.

"Fuck Daryl. Good job, Good boy."

His cock twitches once again and he knows you felt it for sure this time. He turned his head and buried the side of his face into the pillow beneath him.

"Oh you like that, don't you? Do you like being my good boy Daryl?"

No response. He just closes his eyes tightly.

"Talk to me, sweet thing. I like it when you're vocal, It's hot."

Upon hearing you liked it, he spoke up.

"Y-Yeah. I do like it. I like being-... I like being your good boy Y/N."

You don't think his face can get any redder and the blush is now appearing over his shoulders and chest, as if his system is so overloaded it doesn't know what exactly to do.

"Don't move, keep your face right there, angel."

When the bed shifts he becomes a little suspicious but doesn't dare move after you told him to stay. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be your good boy. Daryl doesn't have to guess what you are doing for long, as you return and he notices the outline of the camera in your grasp. Fuck, you want more pictures of him.

Why does that thought turn him on so much every time?

He lifts his hands to the side of his head, gently tugging at the pillow... posing for you. He'd pose any way you wanted him to just to make you happy. He'd let you take a million photos if that's what it took.

"Somebody's eager. Do you like being my model angel? You like having yourself on display all desperate and horny for me?"

"Yes. L-Love being under ya Y/N. Love b-being yours ta look at. Never thought ya'd W-want ta-... see me like this...T-Take all the pictures ya want. P-please. Never stop. Please never S-stop."

*click*

You wiggle your hips a bit against his erection and his mouth opens as his back arches off the bed. He whines as his chest lifts towards the sky.

*click*

"So pretty. you look so good in these pictures Daryl. I may just have to put one in my wallet to carry around."

You still liked to carry your wallet around from before the world went to shit. It makes you feel normal, like it's just another work day where you forget your keys and spill coffee in your lap. You could think of no better place for some of these photos than in your back pocket, tucked away in between the leather folds...

"Ya'd really do tha?" He looks surprised.

"Oh, absolutely. Now, what do you say about getting these sweatpants off of me?"

He offered no verbal response, just the hasty movement of his once nimble fingers, now clumsy as he fiddles with the knot on the drawstring of your pants. You internally laugh a little. You had witnessed Daryl's dexterous fingers build hundreds of arrows and carve a multitude of sticks. and yet here he was, fumbling with a simple knot that, quite frankly, wasn't very tight.

It made you beam with pride that you could reduce him to this.

"What was it like, your first time?" You inquired incredulously. You were filled with curiosity as you remembered his flustered statement from earlier.

After finally loosening the knot from your pants, and resting his hands on your hips, he answered, "was alright I guess." His expression became sheepish and you knew he was being stingy with details on purpose.

"You don't have to talk about it, But I'm not not going to judge you."

He contemplated for a split second.

'welp, here goes'

"Must'a been 'bout sixteen 'n Merle, He t-took me ta some druggie's house. Druggie's sister was a' least five years older 'n me. She did some... Work on the side. Merle thought it'd be good for me, "It'll make ya a man," 's what he said. S-she-"

He paused for a second, looking up to you for what you assumed was reassurance. You had never seen him look so vulnerable. You placed your hand on his chest, just under his left collar bone. He breathed a bit and continued.

"She took me ta one of the spare rooms an' I told her I'd never done anythin' like tha' before. She told me it wouldn' be an issue and we continued... I- uh, I didn' even finish. She never breathed a word ta Merle and 'm thankful for it."

He looked uncomfortable, and you felt terrible for him. You were the first person to admit that your first time wasn't the best, when you impulsively slept with your lab partner in sophomore year and faked an orgasm to get out of there, but this was definitely worse.

"And you never tried again?"

"N-nah... never wanted ta... 'till now," He replied with a wavering tone.

At least you've had some good experiences. He hasn't had any, and that thought just made you want to give him some.

"So you've never cum inside someone before?"

He weakly shook his head.

"Well then, we'll have to fix that then, won't we pretty boy? Now, I know for a fact you can cum..." You leaned down to his ear and whispered, "especially on pillows." You felt him stiffen below you.

"Fuck! Y-ya saw tha'?"

"I saw it and heard it, sweet thing, made me so horny. I just had to touch myself that night." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk roll of your hips that Daryl mewled at. "What were you thinking about?"

"Y-you."

Your suspicions were confirmed, and it gave you a rush of confidence.

"What were you thinking about me?" You wanted to hear him stumble over his words. you wanted to hear his shameful, dirty thoughts formulate on his tongue.

"Jesus fucking s-shit y/n. I was thinking about you and how ya sound 'n s-smell. I- fuck I love tha way ya smell c-couldn't help myself from..."

Your ears perked up, "from?

He tried to look away from you, but you wouldn't let him. Raising an eyebrow, you offer him a silent challenge to defy you.

His mind was racing now, afraid you might be disgusted with his confession. He needed to learn how to keep his big fat mouth shut. He just couldn't help himself though, he wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you anything you wanted to know about him. He would do anything for you.

He would do anything for you...

He loved you.

In the next few microseconds, Daryl moved that word around in his head over and over again. It felt so right. Like the word had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, just waiting to be spoken.

He figured now wasn't the best time to tell you though. Instead, he quieted his self deprecating thoughts and opened his now red, plush lips to answer you. He wouldn't let Merle's voice fill his head when he had your sweet one to do it instead.

A sudden wave of confidence rolled over him in ripples.

"Your shirt.  Tha' green flannel tha' hugs yer chest like it was made for ya. had it pressed up against m-my face so I could smell ya all around me when I finished. Imagined if ya thought of me when ya t-touched yerself too. Wondered if maybe ya... used tha' picture ya took of me for... other things."

The smile on your face could be considered sinister from an outside perspective. "You have no fucking IDEA how hot that is Daryl. No idea at all. Jesus, Fuck, that just made me so wet. I think about you all the time when I pleasure myself, does that make you happy? Does it turn you on that I did look at that picture of you when I had three fingers stuffed inside myself to mimic two of yours?" You punctuated that sentence with a cock of your eyebrow.

Your voice almost sounded mocking.

It made your words even more erotic to him.

That was the single most arousing thing he had ever heard with his own ears. He didn't know if it was because of the current sexual context, or if it was just because they came from you.

He decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.

You were overwhelming him and he loved every single second of it. All he smelled was you. All he saw was you. All he heard was your voice and your breathing. Everything was you. Just you. You. You. You. He needed to have you with every fiber of his being. He needed to be surrounded by you even more.

"Fuck me Y/N please. please please pleasepleaseplease. Can't- Can't stand not being inside ya anymore." He whined out the whole thing and it was almost incomprehensible.

"Whatever my good boy wants."

And with that, you put your hands on his and guided them back to the elastic at your waistline. Something about his hands in yours felt absolutely perfect, like they were made for it. That idea mixed with the feeling of his rough fingers brought a familiar swell in your chest that you often felt when you were in Daryl's presence. However, this time it was much stronger and much more warming. You wondered if it was because of the sexual contact or if it was just because of him.

You decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.

You lifted your hips for his for a moment so Daryl could remove your sweatpants from the upper part of your waistline more easily. You pulled them the rest of the way down and removed them completely, along with your red silk panties.

Daryl's brain short circuited when your bare ass and pussy sat down just above his throbbing cock. He could feel your wetness leaking onto his stomach and the thought of tasting it crossed his mind. 'Later' he said to himself. He'd pleasure you with his mouth later if you would let him. And even though he had never eaten a girl out before, he would damn sure make up for it with enthusiasm to do so.

You looked at the soft panties in your hand and then back to Daryl, who had his eyes fixated on where your sex met his skin. He was so deep in thought he didn't even notice what you were doing right now. You could practically read his mind at this point, so you called out to him and held out your soaked panties towards his face.

"Go ahead baby. I know you want to."

He wasted no time in bringing the garment to his nose and giving a big, unashamed whiff... Then brought them to his tongue and licked a long strip of the crotch while keeping eye contact. The look on his face was like a starved man being fed a feast for four. His eyes darkened and he let out a moan of pure satisfaction before tossing them to join the other discarded clothes in the room.

You reached over to the drawer in your nightstand and pulled out a condom that you guessed was his size. Taking the wrapper between your teeth, you ripped the foil in half and pulled the condom out.

A memory from highschool flashed behind your eyes and you got a wicked idea. You made an "O" shape with your lips and suctioned the condom on them. You lowered your head to his cock and started slowly rolling the condom down the head and over the shaft, using your tongue as assistance.

You guessed by the little throb that pulsed inside your mouth that he liked it.

"Fuckin' Fuck!"

You giggled, "So eloquent."

"S-Shut up."

A Little amused sigh was shared between both of you.

This moment was so perfect, and it was about to get even better.

"Are you ready?" You asked genuinely, even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to make sure.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ yes Y/N. F-fuck me already."

That definitely sounded like consent to you.

You gripped his shaft lightly as you positioned your hips over his in a kneeling stance, the head of his cock just barely beneath your entrance. Without warning, you started sinking him into your warm, wet heat.

Two things happened at that moment. You were overcome with pleasure and nearly collapsed all the way on top of him due to your wobbling knees, and Daryl let out a moan that could only be described as pure fucking bliss. If you were feeling pleasure, he must have been feeling heaven given the sheer volume and force the noise from his lips possessed. You didn't know if Daryl's neighbors could hear him right now, and quite frankly? You didn't give a single fuck. You wanted everyone in this whole godforsaken community to hear how good Daryl was feeling. How good you made him feel. You wanted that asshole Rick and Rosita to know that they got their wish and you were both enjoying every second of it. This spurred you even more, and despite your knees protest, you sunk down on him even slower to prolong the moment. Your eyes rolled back and you whimpered deeply as his meaty dick hit bottom and stretched you out sinfully. As soon as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, His moans turned to whines.

As his body fought for control over itself, he shivered and his hands became restless. At that moment he decided, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, that he was going to spend every second he had buried inside your wet, tight cunt. He was never going to waste another second without the feeling of you around him, whether it be your arms or your sweet pussy. The rest of his days were going to be spent with you. Of course, he didn't voice any of these thoughts. His mouth was too busy telling you how good you made him feel, even if it wasn't with words. He managed to open his eyes only to meet your piercing gaze, full of what appeared to be admiration. And if he wasn't buried inside of you, he could probably cry at your sincerity. He realized you actually cared. He realized you wanted him to enjoy himself. His whole life, no one had ever looked at him like that before you, like he was something to care for. After a moment, Daryl realized you were also searching his face for any signs of discomfort, and his heart melted at the sentiment. He gave you a slight nod and a soft, somewhat awkward smile.

A smile looked foreign on his face, given that he always seemed to be annoyed at one thing or the other. His frown was well known and well joked about between you and the other members of the group, especially Carol. You have very rarely seen even a ghost of a smirk flash across his face. While it was strange to see the happy expression on the mostly angry man, it was not unwelcome. A smile suited him, and you were determined to see it more often.

Agonizingly slowly, you lifted your hips and dropped them back down, the feeling it left resembled fire on your trembling walls. Daryl was laying back with a blissed-out look on his face like a man high on the most exquisite drug money could buy. That's what you felt like to him, a drug, Intoxicating to the point of suffocation, and he could overdose on you at any second. You altered his senses in the best ways possible until he couldn't form a single cohesive thought. Every movement of your insides that was awarded to him sent a jolt of electricity and pleasure up his spine, and he knew his right hand could never compare to this. With every passing second he spent buried inside you, he knew exactly how much you had ruined him.

Nothing could ever make him want it any other way.

You had never felt like this before with anyone.

No man had ever made you feel as empowered as Daryl was right now. Sex with most guys you knew just consisted of them trying to take what they needed from you, and then making up some lame excuse to leave. It always felt like a task for you, leaving you unsatisfied. Daryl was different in every way possible, he gave you everything. At this moment, he bared his entire soul to you, every vulnerability and insecurity on display, a sign of his complete trust. Even though he was a bit out of it, he still ran his hand up and down your back and chest, delicately pinching and caressing your breasts with fervor.

This was more than just sex to you, and it was more than just sex to him. The rhythm, the matching movements, the energy that was radiating in the air, all of it formed itself into the most delicately perfect dance, a waltz of two lovers. You couldn't imagine a better dance partner.  Daryl was a masterpiece to you, an awe-striking painting that was made with billions of perfect brush strokes and a quality of paint that only true master artists possessed. He deserved to be admired. He deserved to be recognized. You wanted to paint murals of him and write songs about him, you wanted to capture his every expression in photos and fill the empty spaces of your existence with them. You wanted to be full of him in every way you could be because the laws of imperfection didn't apply to him in your eyes.

You mustered the strength in your arms to pick the camera back up from where it was resting, and bring it to your eye. You wanted to remember this moment forever, and you were going to snap as many photos as it would take for that to happen.

*click*

Daryl whimpered and bucked his hips.

Before you could realize what was happening, Daryl had a surge of coherence and used it to flip you over, keeping up the pace without a hiccup. You were surprised at how fluidly he managed the motion like he had done it a thousand times, even though you know he hadn't. You would be proud if you could muster up a thought that wasn't laced with lust and wanting, however, the rhythm of his snapping hips wouldn't allow that at the moment.

You opened your eyes to take in the sight above you, the camera still in hand. This gorgeous man's woodland brown hair was hanging from his head and swaying in the air with every thrust, and his eyes were strained shut with concentration. There was just enough space between you for you to bring the camera in front of you comfortably and snap a quick picture. His strong shoulders and forearms were flexing deliciously as he held himself above you, and the camera flash made the sweat on them sheen like he was glowing.

That one was going to look great later when you could focus.

You dropped the camera to your side and reached out your hands and placed them on his face, rubbing them over his brow bone and cupping his cheeks in your fingers. His facial tension dissipated the moment your skin came into contact with his, and he opened his eyes to greet the image below him.

"It's okay to go slow, my love. There's no rush. Just feel it. Just feel me." You stated in a husky, almost whispered voice.

He exhaled in response, and the sheer length of the breath served as a reminder of how much smaller than him you actually were.

"Wan' ya to feel good." He informed you, sounding mildly timid, yet still as confident as ever. He smirked at you and punctuated his sentence with a rather cocky roll of his hips that momentarily left you breathless.

"I feel fucking fantastic," you sighed, "I feel like you are wrapped around every piece of Me Daryl. I can feel you in my nerve endings, I can sense you in my lungs. Please don't stop. You make me feel like I am dying in the best way possible." You meant every word and so much more.

Daryl's expression changed from confident to loving in an instant, and he experimentally rolled his hips slower and softer, studying the movement of your face. He spent so long with his eyes shut from the pleasure that he barely got to see what you looked like when he buried himself inside you, and he could kick himself for wasting that time. You looked like a dream with your eyes fixed on his, that pure sexual expression painted on your features. Your hair spread itself out over your charcoal gray pillows and sheets like you were floating in a pool of water. He took notice of how your breasts were warm and sweet like softened butter, the small amount of light in the room cast shadows that contoured your figure perfectly. You looked like a goddess below him, chest heaving and long, feminine lashes blinking. Somewhere along the way, the comforter had been discarded from the bed to the floor, and the sheets had become rustled. They shaped themselves around the outline of you like a renaissance painting of a noble queen, the kind that would have men bowing at her feet.

It was his turn to take a picture.

Daryl leaned back on the balls of his feet and grabbed your thighs so he could pull your hips to meet his once again, letting his touch linger for a moment or two before grabbing that camera that you loved so damn much and charging the flash.

"Stay still." You hear him grumble out under his breath.

You gave him your best sexy pout and felt his cock jump a little inside you.

"F-Fuck," You heard him grunt out once again, "Fuck, you are so- such a-." He pulled the photo from the camera and studied it, shuddering out a breath as you clenched around him slightly. "B-Beautiful."

He dropped the camera down somewhere gently, and honestly, you couldn't care less about the fucking thing right now. All you wanted was to feel him moving inside you again. You didn't have to wait long, because he was back on top of you again in an instant, but this time it was different.

Daryl lowered himself onto his forearms and knees, making sure to bury his head in your neck and hair, keeping his chest connected to yours to the point where you could feel his heartbeat. He wanted to be able to smell your scent all around him when he finished, just like he did with your shirt in that bunker. He wanted to be surrounded by you as much as possible. He wanted to be totally overwhelmed by you. This new position allowed him access to places you didn't know someone could reach, and his moans and whines were bringing you ever closer to your end.

"Close." You struggled the words out, both a warning and a promise.

"Tell me. T-tell me where yer-." He was interrupted by an involuntary moan escaping from his throat, "Tell me where ta T-touch you. Want to help ya. Please I-I'll be good. Promise. Please please please," He trailed off.

He definitely knew how to get what he wanted.

You grabbed his hand and guided it slowly between your legs until the rough pads of his fingers found your clit and you cried out. He began carefully rubbing circles over that spot as he picked up the pace. This was absolutely devastating for you, the feeling of his fingers and his cock working in perfect tandem had you practically crying for him. Daryl's moans were becoming needier by the second. Every time he pressed down on your clit, you clenched around him tighter. You felt like wet velvet. Wet, hot velvet.

"P-Please cum fer me Y/N, want ta know 'M makin' ya feel good. 'M so c-close fer ya. Please let me feel ya cum 'round me." His voice was almost unrecognizable, filled with need. And it sent you over the edge.

Your legs wrapped around his lower back, and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, leaving streaks of red in their path. The wave of your orgasm came crashing down around you, clouding all of your senses and making your vision go white. All you could feel is pure pleasure, and Daryl's hair in your fists. He wasn't too far behind.

Your legs constricted around him like a snake ready to strike, but if this is what being poisoned felt like, then he would gladly die right here, like this. The only pain he had ever felt was filled with hate and malice, but as your fingernails raked down his back, the fire he felt made him dizzy. The pleasurable pain spurred him on even more. Your scent surrounded him as he desperately pressed open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach on your neck and jaw before he felt your sweet pussy pulse around him. The final straw was the feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair, and the coil inside his stomach snapped. He came in thick, hot spurts that forced a small scream from his throat as he humped into you needily. He melded completely into you, and you were so close at that moment, that you didn't even feel like two people, you felt like one.

The scene looked like something out of a movie. The sheets were misplaced and wrinkled, and clothes littered the floor, thrown off in the throes of passion. Countless polaroid pictures were spread out around the bed, surrounding you and Daryl, the camera long forgotten on the floor. You both came down from your high breathing heavily, slick skin now comfortable and chilled in contrast to how feverish you both were a moment ago.

And you just lay there, reveling in each other, in the feeling of one another's presence. Your skin vibrated with the feeling of your afterglow, and you both silently agreed to spend a few moments relaxing.

....

You felt him slowly gain control of his limbs and leave some soft kisses behind your ear. If anyone told you that Daryl fucking Dixon would be so soft and emotional after sex, you would have called them crazy. But right now, as he starts to trail the kisses up your jaw and cheek, making his way to your lips, you would believe anything. When his lips finally do meet yours, it's the sweetest kiss you think you could ever receive. He's so gentle and you can tell that he poured everything he was feeling into it, that way you could feel it too.

The silence was broken by him pulling out of you slowly, and you shuddered at just how empty you felt without him. You both groaned when he left you, and he noticed how you shivered.

"Are ya cold?." He asked, and he looked genuinely concerned.

The sentiment warmed your heart.

"I-," You went to speak but he cut you off.

"Cuz I can get ya a blanket, er I could turn up the heat. Here." With that, he lifted himself off the bed in search of the comforter, covering you with it when he found it.

"Thank you, Daryl, bu-."

"Or I can get ya some food if yer hungry, sumthin ta drink?"

"No no, I'm good baby. I really appreciate it, I do. but jus' want you to come lay with me. please? Hold me? If you want to, that is." You slurred out the words due to exhaustion

"Y-yeah alrigh'."

He went to take off the condom, probably to tie it off and dispose of it, but you couldn't have that. You've been dying to know what he tasted like for way too long.

"No, stop. Let me." You demanded as you sat up, the comforter falling to your lap. "Come here, please."

He complied, walking to the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You reached out and grabbed the tip of the rubber, working it off of his softened shaft slowly.

"Ya better hurry up, or imma get hard again real soon.''

The condom came off and you held it by the top as you opened your mouth, making sure to keep heavy eye contact with Daryl. His cum flowed out of the condom in thick, creamy globs, landing on your tongue in a sizable puddle.

"Fuuucck girl, yer gonna fuckin' kill me," Daryl spoke in his delicious southern drawl.

You fully expected him to stand there and watch you until the condom was empty, but instead, he grabbed your face and pressed your warm lips to his. This utters a noise of surprise from you until you feel his tongue enter your mouth and mingle with yours.

Oh, he wanted to taste himself with you.

That was bringing some familiar feelings bubbling up in your stomach.

You returned the kiss with equal amounts of passion and an eager tongue. The kiss left you both breathless as Daryl pulled away and you drug him down to bed with you. You both laughed lightly when he landed on top of you with an 'oof'. He rolled over on his back and looked at you, waiting for you to cuddle up next to him like you promised you would.

Eventually, you got the hint and made your way under his arm, laying your head on his chest.

Even though Daryl hadn't really cuddled before, it felt natural with you, like breathing. His mind wandered a bit, wondering if you enjoyed your time with him. 'Of course she did, you retard, she was screaming underneath you a few minutes ago.' At least his internal voice was actually helpful for once. He couldn't help but wonder though... Thankfully, he didn't have to.

"I can see your mind moving, sweetheart. Ask what you want to ask."

He was really thankful you could read his mind sometimes.

"Did- Did ya... Enjoy urself?" His reluctance was obvious.

He sounded small when he spoke. You didn't like it.

"Daryl Dixon, I want you to listen to me very closely. That was the best sex I have ever had. You are the best man I have ever been with, and I would definitely like to do it again. With you. In my bed. Or maybe yours. Possibly your new recliner. Your workbench. Maybe against the bike..."

"Alright, Alright. I get it," He let out a low chuckle, his mind put at ease.

The room was silent for a little while as you just enjoyed the silence that was so rare in a world filled with the shambling dead.

...

...

"So the bike, huh?" Daryl asked, laced with humor.

You looked up and met his gaze, smiling deviously.

"If you like that, you would love some of my other ideas."

His interest peaked. "hmm? Tell me all 'bout 'em."

You both chuckled.

"Well, I've seen you flipping that combat knife around..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtain-covered window, it danced across the hardwood floor smoothly. Right away you noticed three things. First, Daryl isn't next to you, which made you feel a bit sad at first. Second, You smelled something absolutely delicious, and you wanted to track down the source of the scent. You noticed the third thing as you were searching for your clothes, Daryl's shirt draped across the nightstand by the bed, which meant he was probably still there. You put it on, along with your discarded sweats from the previous night, and made your way downstairs. The smell got stronger and stronger until you entered the kitchen, the source of the odor. And there he was, standing in front of the stove in a pair of pants and no shirt. Suddenly, the smell wasn't the only thing that was delicious.

Daryl was dishing out pancakes when you walked in, a plate of bacon, and a cup of black coffee sitting next to him. He noticed you immediately and smiled softly. You walked up behind him while he was pouring more coffee from the pot into a second mug, and wrapped your arms around his torso. You noticed the scratches you left on him from the night before, and leaned your cheek on his back, feeling a sense of pride.

"What's all this?" You feigned ignorance.

"'S breakfast. for us." He looked very proud of himself.

If he got any sweeter, you don't think you could handle it.

"This looks delicious, Daryl. You did an amazing job," And you meant it, "You Look pretty damn delicious too."

He chuckled and you could feel his shoulders shake with the action.

"Tell ya what, finish yer greens, and ya can have dessert.'' The last word was a little heavier than the rest of the sentence, and you understood the implications. Who knew Daryl Dixon was so playful?

Having you in such close proximity was driving him wild all over again. He had never been touched so much by someone in such a short amount of time, and feeling your warm skin on his in a domestic environment was making him hotter by the second. He peeked over his shoulder to look at you and when your eyes made contact, he felt that electric spark all over again. You were a sweet little thing, pressing your lips softly against his back and touching his chest like this. He could feel the love radiating between you two, and it was laced with a barely tamed lust.

Were you wearing his shirt?

He might just have to fulfill the promise he made to himself the night before, and get a taste of you for breakfast instead.

How would he even initiate that though? He didn't really know what to do exactly because he was still new to this, but he did know that he wanted his tongue buried inside your moist heat until he couldn't feel it anymore. Do you even like that sort of thing? Would you want that from him?  No. No, he wasn't going to let himself overthink this. You liked eager, right? Well, then he was going to be eager for you. He decided that what he lacked in experience when it came to this, he was going to make up for in his desire to make you feel good.

"Daryl, are you ready to eat?"

"Hell yes, I am." He replied to you under his breath.

"What was that bab- Ooh!" The wind was taken from your lungs in surprise as he swiftly turned around, picked you up by your thighs, and set you down on a nearby countertop. The shock factor soon wore off and faded into excited giggles.

"The food is going to get cold," You whined as his palm covered your sex, catching you off guard again.

His mouth came to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath tickle the skin there.

"Food feels warm ta me." He really hoped you would find this sexy and not stupid. Just in case, he made sure to deepen the tone of his voice just a bit.

You found it very sexy.

He pulled away and made direct eye contact.

Was he really serious about this? Did he actually want to put his mouth on you, or was he playing around? You wondered that for a moment, his eyes bore into you like a needle in some fabric.

And then he slowly sank to his knees...

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Still keeping that intense eye contact, Daryl moved forward on his knees and pulled you to the edge of the counter by your thighs, then started working on the drawstring of your sweatpants.

You had to admit, your brain was short-circuiting a little. Was this really about to happen, or were you dreaming that Daryl Dixon was pulling your pants down from the ankles? The latter was very likely, considering you had dreamed about scenarios like this before, In this kitchen, With him. And he was about to make that dream come true, whether he knew it or not.

He made quick work of discarding your sweats, and you were thankful you had decided to forgo wearing panties today. The shaky nervousness from the previous night had obviously dissipated, and you were definitely glad for it. His gaze had moved from your face down to your cunt, greedily taking in the sight of you, almost as if he was memorizing everything perfectly. You were practically soaked already, and he felt a wave of pride wash over him.

At least he knew you liked this so far.

You grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his eyes up to look at yours. The feeling of your fingers yanking the roots of his hair was something he could get used to.

"Please Y/N, please let me eat ya out. Ya like when I beg right? 'll be good. Promise. Please? Been dreamin' 'bout how ya taste fer a long time. P-Please use me, use my face, pretty girl."

His admission made you gush. You gripped his hair tighter.

Your tone dropped lower, and your eyes became lustful.

"Open your mouth," You commanded, and he obeyed.

You pushed your hips out, presenting yourself like a five-course meal just waiting to be devoured, and pulled his head forward until his now outstretched tongue rested against your folds. You moaned softly, eyes rolling in the back of your head. His mouth was devilish, lapping up your juices like they were the best thing he had ever tasted. To him, they were.

Daryl was feeling beyond amazing, you had the most exquisite flavor he could imagine, nothing could compare. He sped up his tongue, licking from the bottom of your sweetness, all the way to the top, then flattening over your clit. Your noises got louder, and your fingers pulled him closer by his hair. You chased your pleasure by jutting out your hips, practically grinding yourself on his face. He lifted your legs over his shoulders to give you a better angle on him, to make himself more accessible to use. Every sound you uttered made him swell with even more pride, letting him know he was touching you like you needed. He pushed his tongue inside of you, wiggling it around slowly in experimentation. He noticed you gripped his hair more when he angled it up, so that's what he did. Your thighs sandwiched his head in their pillowy warmth, and it was his turn to groan, although it was muffled by the flesh of your sex. He knew what Merle meant now about eating pussy, This was fucking fantastic.

You fed off of each other's noises and touches, each becoming more eager every time. You were getting close, and Daryl could feel it in how hard your thighs clenched around his head with every movement of his tongue. It was now or never.

Daryl brought his fingers to your entrance and moved his tongue to your clit, slipping two of them inside and curling them upwards slightly like he did before. It was like he had pressed a button when he stroked that spot inside of you, and it made you see stars. Your orgasm hit you so powerfully that you almost went limp when the first wave hit. You spasmed around Daryl's fingers like you had never cum before, your vision went white momentarily and you felt something else coming from inside of you. His fingers continued their motions inside of you, coaxing you through your release. You felt yourself getting wetter, Impossibly so.

Oh shit. Did you just-?

Looking down after you gained control confirmed what you suspected.

"Fuckfuck, Y/N. Wha' the fuck was tha'?" Daryl looked mesmerized, staring down at his now-soaked arm and chest, glistening in the kitchen light.

You were still a little light-headed, so your response was staggered.

"That was-... It's called squirting. It- It happens when a woman gets really aroused." You were still a little out of breath, so all you could do was lightly run your fingers through Daryl's hair, massaging his scalp with your nails. "It means you did a very good job." You closed your eyes for a second and spoke again, "Sorry for not warning you."

...

Daryl's lack of response mildly concerned you until you looked down and he was staring at his hand in what looked like awe. His hand moved closer to his mouth and he was... tasting it? He was sucking on his fingers like his life depended on it, taking as much of your juices in as he could.

"Mmm, fuck. Ya taste better 'n ice cream," He spoke, his words muffled by his fingers.

You responded with an amused chuckle, pulling him back up to stand in between your legs. Deciding it was your turn to taste yourself in his mouth, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, tongues mingling affectionately.

"We should probably clean up a little and eat," You suggested, remembering the food that was probably ice cold by now.

Daryl offered a satisfied grunt and kissed you quickly before wandering off to look for a towel.

You couldn't be happier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The food was, in fact, ice cold by the time you got around to it. However, considering the fact that your legs wobbled a bit when you walked, you couldn't care less about how warm breakfast was. You would do it all over again.

You both talked about what the plans were for this week. Runs, weapons training, and the box of motorcycle parts Daryl found a few days ago in an old auto body shop. Somewhere during the conversation, you realized just how domestic this was, like you two were a married couple spending the morning together.

You liked it.

You loved it.

You loved him.

You both made it about halfway through your meal before you were ever so rudely interrupted by a slight knock at the front door. With an annoyed sigh, you padded your way there across the hardwood floor and unlocked the knob while twisting it. When you opened the door, Rick was standing on the porch, hands resting by his sides.

Rick took notice of your choice of clothing, specifically Daryl's shirt. He decided to play dumb anyway. He knew damn well that Daryl went to see you after he talked to Rosita because Rosita told him so.

"Can I help you with something, Rick?" You sounded mildly annoyed, which made him smile a bit.

"Have you seen Daryl 'round? 've been lookin' for 'im. Wonderin' if he maybe went out without tellin' someone again."

Before you could answer, you felt the presence of warm hands on your sides and a chin resting on your head.

"Ya found me," Daryl sounded annoyed too, "Ya need sum?"

You melted into Daryl's touch a little and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Rick. You could tell that Daryl's PDA put him off track for a second or two before that shitty grin of his returned even stronger. God, you wanted to punch him.

"I was jus' lookin' for you so we could go over the plans for the supply run in a few days," His words were filled with smarm, "But it can wait for later."

Daryl spoke before you had the chance to.

"Good, See ya later," Daryl closed the door before Rick could spout more bullshit, pulling you closer to him and sniffing your hair.

Who was this affectionate man and what had he done with the hardass you knew?

You both could hear Rick laughing as he walked off the porch, and Daryl groaned into your neck.

"'M gonna beat 'is ass later. can' believe he talked me inta goin' ta tha' damn party."

You laughed a little. "As much as I hate to say it, you should probably be thanking him. I mean. some good definitely came of it."

"Oh my god, you're right," He spoke sarcastically, fake shock playing in the undertones of his voice.

You stood there for a minute, laughing in his arms and reveling in the attention he was giving you. You had never seen him like this, so happy and loving, He seemed like a completely different person right now. Somewhere deep down, you knew this side of him would be reserved for only you, and it made the moment all the more special to you.

In truth, Daryl had never felt like this before. Of course, he felt love towards the group, but it was a familial kind of love, This was different somehow. He wanted to be your partner, your best friend, and your backup in dangerous situations. He wanted to patch up your cuts, share a beer with you, and protect you when you needed it. But most of all, he wanted to give you everything you could ever want from him. Whether that was a life of fighting and hunting or a white picket fence with a few kids, It didn't matter to him as long as it was with you.

Daryl picked you up by your legs, still giggling, and carried you deeper into the house to spend as much time as he could with you before you both had to face the life that waited for you both outside.

Neither you nor Daryl would have ever guessed that the dead would rise up and bring the apocalypse,

Neither of you ever thought you would find a family from a group along the way,

And neither of you ever guessed you would find love in a world where it was lacking.

And honestly?

Neither of you would want it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That was a genius idea, I have to admit," Rick spoke with playful admiration.

"I told you it would work, that girl has a serious thing for formal wear... and for Daryl," Rosita stated with a hint of smarm in her voice.

Rosita, tired of her best friend's shit, came to Rick a few weeks ago and they devised a plan. Rick's job was to throw a bullshit party for the newcomers and get Daryl to shower and wear normal clothes, Which Rosita knew would be easy once he mentioned you, then all they had to do was push you two towards each other all night. The outcome of that evening may not have been what they expected, but regardless, the result was still the same. At least now Rick didn't have to witness Daryl pine for you from afar, and Rosita didn't have to deal with you talking about him all the time and never doing anything. And what better entertainment was there than matchmaking during the end of the world. 

Rick, who had placed a bet that Rosita's plan wouldn't work, pulled out her winnings from his jacket pocket, placing the chocolate bar in her hand, which she received with a smug smile. He really thought it would take Daryl a bit longer to lock this down, but this is what he gets for doubting his brother, and Rosita's matchmaking skills.

"As promised," He uttered in his southern drawl. "A bet well won."

"Thank youuuu Grimes," Rosita remarked sarcastically while tearing open the wrapper.

A few short seconds of comfortable silence passed before Rick spoke up with a genuine smile instead of his usual grin.

"It's nice to see them happy, they deserve it."

Rosita finished chewing her mouthful and swallowed to reply.

"Yeah. they do.... and so do you."

"Oh no, I know where this is going." If Rosita brought up Michonne one more time, he swore to God.

"Soooooo.... Michonne?"

"Goodbye Rosita." Rick had enough of this.

"Aww, c'mon! hear me out! So, she has been complaining about the lack of toothpaste, and I was thinking..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N

sorry this took so long to write, School sucks, and yadda yadda. To be honest, I just lost the motivation to write for a long time. I have shit grammar and my spelling is a hit or miss. English is IN FACT my first language, although you wouldn't be able to tell that from my writing. No amount of Grammarly can help me at this point, Fuck formatting anyway. No beta, we die like the show's ratings after season 7. Please enjoy and be sure to point out any mistakes in the comments so I can fix them.

[sweetbunpura]

Gidel spoke for the first time but it was calling Yuu mom

There's a lotta stuff Gidel doesn't know. How to speak, read, or write. Fellow taught him some stuff, but even his brother had limited knowledge. Being allowed at NRC was good, sure he and his brother had to do work around it, but they got to learn!

And they got to stay in a permanent place! No more living on the street and digging through the trash for scraps! They got a bed, warm food and friends! Gidel especially liked Missy Yuu, she was nice to him and carried him around when he asked! And, and she taught him how to talk without speaking!

Currently Gidel was watching Yuu from the kitchen table as she bustled around the kitchen. She cracked eggs and added them into the pan, she also had a pot of grits and some sausages going. The oven dinged and Yuu pulled out some freshly baked croissants, which she set to the side and scrambled the eggs. Once those were done, she set them aside on a plate followed by the sausage and croissants.

"Y'all eat too much." She pulled out the butter from the fridge followed by creamer and fruit. "Running me outta the dorm here."

Gidel smiled as she turned to face him. Yuu cared a lot about everyone in Ramshackle and she started to feel less like a sister and more like a...

"What, Giddy?"

"Ma....ma." His voice was disjointed and low, but he spoke.

Yuu's eyes widened and she covered her mouth to prevent her yell from escaping. Gidel didn't remember his mother, but that didn't matter, he had a new one.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Come Out and Play 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom welcomes an old friend back into her life that brings chaos with him.

Characters: Thor, Loki

Note: Two silverfoxes for the price of one

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

Your mother’s singing along to her favourite Donna Summer classic as you come through the front door. She doesn’t hear you as you drop your bag and your boots at the door. You cluck and shake your head as you tiptoe down the hallway and peer into the kitchen. All this just because you’re staying the night? 

You tilt your head and squint at her diligent fingers. She roles the filo around the filling and places each little pocket on a pan. The warmth of the stove radiates through the space and beckons you in. After the frigid chill of your apartment, it’s a relief. 

You waft over to the counter with the smell of baking pastry and chopped peppers. You stand beside your mom quietly and smile at her work. Her arm collides with yours and she looks down at you. She squeals and tosses one of the uncooked hors d’oevres. It sticks to the wall before falling apart. 

“Oh, my!” She puts her hand to her chest and raises her voice, “Alexa, lower volume.” The music recedes and you back up with an apologetic bow. “Hon, I didn’t know you were here. Oh, I hate when you sneak up on me like that.” 

It’s not intentional, more a bad habit. You’re a bit too quiet for your own good sometimes. And hers.  

“Sorry,” you mutter and turn your attention back to the pan, “...lotta food...” 

“Yes, I—I'm so sorry, I didn’t mention. I forgot.” She rambles as she does. Where you’re quiet and reserved, she often talks in streams of nervousness. “When you called, I was so busy and I had so much going on in my head. Sometimes it feels like there’s a hamster in there running on its wheel.” She throws her hands up in emphasis, “anywho, I’m so sorry to hear about the building, did the landlord say when the heat will be fixed?” 

“...dunno,” you shrug and sway. “...the food?” 

“Oh, right, yes! I was saying, dear, I have an old friend coming over. He’s just moved to town and I was so excited to hear from him. We went to college together! I last saw him when I was probably your age. He’s so nice, you know? And we kinda found each other online when I was looking up fake flowers for the new door wreath. I was thinking pinecones would be seasonal but then it occured to me I could get some real ones from the part--” 

“Mom,” you rein her in with a dulcet drone. 

“Ah, my friend, I know! He’s so lovely. You’ll like him. I figure, we can have dinner and some drinks. You’re welcome to join.” 

You nod and peek over skeptically at the bottle of wine, “wouldn’t wanna invade. Should’ve said something.” 

“You know you’re always welcome here,” she reaches for you and you catch her wrists, keeping her sticky hand from touching your cheeks. “Oops!” She giggles and recoils. She turns and rinses her hands off. “Sorry, hon.” 

“I’ll stay out of the way,” you assure her. 

“Don’t be shy. Oh, and make sure you at least get some food.” She flutters around and dries off with a hand towel. “You’ll like him. Thor is super nice! He knew your dad too.” 

You nod and don’t comment on the last part. You never really knew your father yourself. He left when you were young. He didn’t go very far but you see your half-sibling in passing at the mall or even a few times at college. Thankfully, you’re all done with classes. 

“Alright,” you agree. “I’ll put my stuff away.” 

She hums and tells the smart speaker to turn it back up. You leave in the blare of disco music and grab your bag from the entryway. You wish you’d known she was having company. You would have just made do with some extra blankets. 

As if to blow away that thought, the wind whistles and shakes the windows. You go upstairs and put your knapsack on the wooden chair by the narrow desk against the wall. You stretch your arms and yawn as you pace around. Your stomach growls as the aromas in the kitchen follow you up. 

You go back down, hoping to assuage your appetite with some water, and as you get the bottom step, the doorbell chimes. You stop and wait, staring at the door. You mom sings along to Lipps, Inc and you sigh. 

You hop down and shuffle to the door. You pull it open, hiding behind it shyly. The man on the other side searches over your head before he thinks to look down. As you peek around wood, he smiles.

He’s tall. Very tall. And his shoulders are as wide as the large oak in the front yard. His hair shines beneath the light hung beside the door as his eyes sparkle. 

He holds a cone of flowers, the petals bristling in the fall wind, as shadow dims their colour.  

“Hm, I must have the wrong address,” he leans back on his heel and reads the numbers on the siding. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Selina lives?” 

“Here,” you squawk awkwardly. 

“Oh? You’ve shrunk... but you’ve aged well.” He tilts his head but his lips suggest he’s joking. 

“She’s in the kitchen. Wait.” 

You close the door in his face. It’s only as you go to get your mom, that you realise how rude you must have seemed. You didn’t invite him in or introduce yourself. Well, he isn’t here for you, is he? 

You go to the smart speaker and tap the button to pause the music, “he’s here.” 

“Oh!” She squeals and bounces, “already?” 

“Mmhmm,” you nod and back out of her way as she hurries to the door.  

She sweeps through and swings the door open. A gust of wind blows in and you peer around the door frame. The man’s deep voice booms out. 

“Selina! You look just as young as the day we met!” 

“Oh you!” She chirps. “You always were the worst liar.” 

“Mm, I am very honest, Seli,” he rumbles. “And who was that little mouse that was scurrying around? She fled so fast, I did not get a name.” 

“Oh, that’s my daughter,” she explains. “I told you about her. Her radiator broke so she’s here for the night. Always nice to have a full nest!” 

“Of course, of course,” he agrees. “Well, I wish I’d known. I’d have brought two bouquets.” 

“These are so lovely. When did you get so sweet, Thor?” 

“I’ve always been sweet, you were just too distracted to notice,” he retorts. 

She laughs and titters around, “I need a vase. Oh, these are beautiful! Ooh, and a much needed pop of colour. I do hate the winter and it’s coming so fast. Please, come in, come in! You must be freezing.” 

He chuckles, amused by her chatter, “you know I always liked the cold.” 

“Mm, you would. Well, not all of us can bear it. Honey! Oh, there you are,” she pokes her head out from the dining room. “Come, meet my friend.” 

You reluctantly come forward. You fold your hands together and drag your feet. You should’ve stayed upstairs. 

“This is Thor. We both took architecture together!” 

You nod and look at her wide-eyed. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze but you know he’s watching you. You rock and twine your fingers between each other. 

“She just finished her own degree. She took literature! Isn’t that so lovely?” 

“Literature? Ah, my brother was always a fan,” he muses. “I do like some good story telling but I could never pick up much on the symbolism.” 

You slant your lips, “oh, cool.” 

“Anyway, I have some wine, why don’t you have a glass while I finish dinner? Hon, you want some too?” She stops beside you with the cluster of flowers. You shake your head. 

You flit up around the staircase, crowded by Thor as he lurks there, and you quickly flee. You don’t look back as you turn down the hall and barrel into his room. You can’t make out your mother’s words as she speaks but his laughter thunders up after you. 

You hide in your room and harrumph. You don’t know why you’re like this. Even at work, you can’t help but try to blend into the wall. It’s not hard to do in the stock room. 

You take out your laptop and resign yourself to a night of Netflix. You’re a bit disappointed. You were hoping to spend some time with your mom but she deserves a life of your own. For all the years she spent making sure you got this far, she’s earned it. 

You turn the speakers up until they hurt your ears. You can still hear their voices below. The savoury scent of your mother’s cooking rise with their conversation. You didn’t realise how much you missed her dinners until now. Those frozen dinners and fast-food deliveries can’t compare with the real thing. 

You hunker down in bed and try not to think of your growling stomach. You’ll wait to reheat some once that guy leaves. You sink down further and further, basking in the warmth of blasting from the vents. You dread going back to your apartment, even after the heat is fixed. 

Your eyelids begin to itch but before you can drift off, there’s a knock on your door. You get up and open it for your mom. The plate in her hands has your mouth watering as you get another whiff of her handwork. 

“Here ya go, hon,” she holds it out. “I’m sorry it’s a full house.” 

“It’s okay. Didn’t have to.” 

“You need to eat,” she insists. You take the plate. “We’ll try to be quiet. You know he’s so loud. He always has been. He makes me seem tame, doesn’t he?” 

You smile at her yapping. She’s so vibrant and chatty. You never could be even when you try. You envy how bright she can be. You feel so dull next to her. Sometimes you feel like you’ve disappointed her. 

“Thanks," you murmur.

“No problem! Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

You wait for her to go before you close the door. You might not have a dad but you’re lucky to have her. You put the plate on your desk and move your laptop. You eat as you watch the show that isn’t as good as the internet suggested. 

The food is delicious. The little stuffed pastries are a bit spicy and you regret not grabbing a glass of water earlier. You got so distracted by that man. You think of sneaking down but you can just drink from the bathroom sink when you finish. A little tap water won’t hurt. 

You clear your plate quicker than you mean to and go back to the bed. The moonlight wavers outside your window as the night ware on. You yawn and make yourself get up. You can’t leave your dirty plate in here. 

You don’t notice the quiet in the house until you open the door. You listen at the top of the stairs before you descend. Slowly and silently, you make your way to the bottom and curve around to the kitchen. You rinse your plate off and grab some water while you have the chance. 

Your pulse builds as the house remains still. Strange. How did you not realise earlier? Well, you had your laptop cranked up. You can hear it from down there. 

You head back upstairs, balancing the glass in the dark, and as you pass your mom’s door, it opens. You yipe as a large figure collides with you. It’s him. Thor. 

You spill the water down your front and whip around to face him. He steadies you with his hand on your shoulder, “so sorry, mouse. I didn’t mean to--” 

His flannel shirt is undone and the soft glow of a lamp limns him from behind. Oh no! You pull away from him and skirt down the hall. Embarrassment nips at your ears and cheeks. You knew you were intruding on your mom’s night. 

You try not to think of what you interrupted as you dip into the spare room and snap the door shut with a kick of your foot. You stay near the door, breathless, until you hear the bathroom door squeak on its hinges. You shake your head and growl. 

You hope you didn’t ruin it. As awkward as it is to think of your mom in a relationship, she’s been alone for so long and you know you’re part of the reason why. Next time, you won’t go running back to mommy. It’s best for both of you that you grow up. 

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #56: Else

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery and lots of it, angst, sickfic, accidental emotional whump, fear of starvation, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee (turned caretaker), reunions

Whumpmas in July Day 18: "Or else"

i'm sorry for being so slow with k&j chapters! i'm going to try to be quicker with them in the future. here's one people have been waiting for for a very long time!

-

“You’re sick.”

Jim blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re sick,” Kane repeated, taking another sip from the bowl. One of his last bowls before he was to start finding his own elsewhere. “I can taste it.”

“What? What kind of sick? Is it serious?” Jim asked with increasing urgency. Kane could see it in his eyes: he knew fear, and he hated to see it in Jim.

He wanted more than anything to reassure him, but he couldn’t lie. “I-I don’t know?” he admitted. “I don’t know much of human illnesses. You seem… fine?”

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Jim grabbed his coat. “I’ll be back soon. I gotta… go to the doctor, or something. Door,” he warned.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll be okay! You can’t even feel it! You’re a healthy young man!” Kane assured him, ducking into the kitchen.

“Thanks for warning me!” Jim’s voice was laden with nerves. A flash of sunlight made Kane shiver, and he only returned to the living room when it was gone.

Kane knew what this meant: Jim would likely not finish out the week. This was his last meal given. He would have to go to vampire territory tonight, or else he would have nothing to eat come tomorrow. He had to find blood tonight, or else he’d starve. He’d go back to that horrible, empty state, always wanting, always in pain.

He knew Jim wouldn’t really let that happen, but it wasn’t fair to rely on him for blood forever, either. Kane had taken enough, with and without permission. It was Jim’s turn to rest.

Still, the fear of hunger never left him. It was a part of him now, permanently, no matter how much he fed.

And this meant one thing. The thing he’d been putting off and dreading since Jim set him free.

He would have to go to vampire territory and talk to his parents. He knew already that it would not go over well. Father would be either furious or crushingly disappointed that he’d allowed himself to be humiliated by humans, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. Mother would undoubtedly be the latter. He wondered, not for the first time, if they preferred him ‘dead’.

It shouldn’t matter. He knew now that they weren’t… good people. He could see that. He had a new family of sorts, now that Jim had taken him in.

But Jim wasn’t his legal next of kin, and Jim wasn’t the one he had to ask if he wanted his money returned so he could buy blood.

He could always get a job. But it seemed ridiculous to do when he had money sitting right there, and he would likely be found by his parents at some point anyway. There was no avoiding it forever.

Kane drank the bowl down quickly.

-

It was a flu, apparently. Nothing life-threatening, but it set Jim’s anxieties alight. His parents had died of illness, he explained.

While Kane had managed to catch it early, Jim started to devolve within a few hours of arriving home.

Kane knocked on his bedroom door. “Jim? Can I come in?”

“Ugh. Yeah,” he agreed.

Carefully balancing the tray, he entered. He found Jim curled up in bed, looking miserable.

“I’ve brought you lunch.” He’d been practicing his human food skills. He was still quite afraid of the stove, so though he used it when feeling especially brave, he mainly stuck to things that didn’t require cooking. He’d written down several combinations of foods that humans found appetizing, which could often be served in between slices of bread as a ‘sandwich’.

But he needed a tray instead of a plate, because despite his strength, he simply didn’t have enough hands to carry the six cups of water circled around it.

“Lotta water,” Jim noted weakly, grabbing a glass and taking a sip when Kane brought it close. His hand shook, the liquid threatening to spill. Kane watched it close, ready to steady it in a heartbeat if Jim needed him to.

He spoke gently, like he was worried speaking too loud would break Jim in his fragile state. “...Like I’d mentioned, I don’t know much about human illness. Most of what I know comes from you. I just remember… you wanted a lot of water, last time.”

He thought about that time a lot. How he was so close to losing Jim, because he was too proud to listen.

“Ah. Yeah.” Jim wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I remember.”

Kane set the tray down. “I should have taken better care of you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I mean–I shouldn’t have had you in the first place, but I did, and you were my responsibility, and I didn’t care for you like I should have.” A hint of tears in his eyes, he took Jim’s unusually-sweaty hand. “I’ll do better this time. Anything you need, I’ll be there.”

That earned a small smile from Jim. “Guess it isn’t so bad being waited on. ‘Specially because you can’t get sick, right?” The smile faded. “…Right?”

“I can’t,” Kane assured him. “You don’t need to worry. Just rest, and I’ll take care of anything you need.”

Jim huffed an almost-laugh. “You really changed, man.”

-

Liz did come over to visit come nightfall, which was good, since despite his promises, Kane had to leave. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Jim alone at night. He knew it made him scared, and Jim deserved to never feel afraid ever again. She brought a container of soup, a yellow liquid with colorful plants and large white orbs floating in it.

He waited, patient, until Liz emerged from Jim’s room. “Liz?”

“Hey. Thanks for looking after him,” Liz said.

“Of course!” The praise spread warmly through him. “There’s, um, something I wanted to talk to you about, if you have the time? Advice, I suppose.”

“Shoot,” she encouraged, flopping over on the couch.

Kane took a deep breath. “So, um, I assume now is a good time to start getting my own blood.”

“Yyyyeah.” Liz shot a glance to the stairs leading to Jim’s room. “I’d say that’s about right.”

“Blood… isn’t free. I have the money–had the money, but I’ve likely been assumed dead for many years. I’ll need to go to my parents to get it back,” he explained. “My parents are not kind people, I’ve come to realize.”

Liz raised an eyebrow, but politely refrained from making any comments about his former obliviousness. “You think they won’t give it back? Isn’t there, like, laws? This can’t be the first time this has happened with vampires, you guys are too good at not dying.”

“No! No, that’s not it, they’d give it back. It’s just, um, they’ll be… quite upset with me, I think. Especially my father.” He sighed. “I didn’t want to talk about it with Jim. I was worried he would feel pressured into giving me more blood than he’s comfortable with. I don’t know. It shouldn’t be as big a deal as it is. I’ve been through so much worse, I don’t understand why this is so terrifying. I suppose I’ve just never failed this badly before.”

“Hey, you made it out of five years with those monsters, alive. Bet there’s not a lot of vampires who could say that,” Liz pointed out.

“Ah, that’s just… not how Father would see it,” Kane said vaguely. Humans were supposed to be the weak ones. The fact that it took him five years to be freed, and he couldn’t even do it himself, would make him an utter embarrassment in their eyes.

And it was all because he couldn’t use persuasion. Everything they’d always believed about him, proven true.

Liz pursed her lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t remember my parents that well,” she admitted. “I know yours suck pretty bad. I don’t think you have to admit more than you need to, right? Like, do they even need to know where you’ve really been? You could just make something up, for the sake of keeping the peace.”

“Make something up…” Kane murmured. He shook his head. “I’m not a very good liar. They’d see right through me. It’s fine, actually, the more I talk about it, the more I realize I’m being a bit ridiculous.” He forced a laugh. “It’s one uncomfortable conversation and then I can come back home.”

“You’ve got this.” Liz patted him lightly on the back, a modification from her usual clap she’d learned tended to scare him. “You’re tough.”

Kane certainly didn’t feel ‘tough’.

“Thank you. It was nice to at least… get it out of my system. Oh, and congratulations. Jim told me about you and Laken.”

Liz smiled. “After what happened, I just knew I had to say something, you know? If they could just be taken from me at any moment. Stuff happens. People die. I didn’t want something to happen to one of us before I could tell them how I feel.”

She stood. “I can give you one more night’s worth, maybe two. If you need some time to think about it and all.”

Kane startled. He and Liz had grown far more amicable over the past months, but he hadn’t expected this from her.

Maybe he should have. It wasn’t the first time. He thought of Jim, on that first night, vehemently denying Liz’s offer to provide blood, vowing to do it himself.

“...Thank you. That means so, so much to me. It’s alright, though. I’ll go tonight,” he decided.

“Good luck. We’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

And that was all he really needed, in the end.

Kane got up, heading to the door with a quick glance back to make sure it was alright. For the freedom he’d earned, he hadn’t gone more than ten feet from the house since he’d returned with Laken. But of course, Liz made no move to stop him. “I’ll see you soon.”

-

The night was as beautiful as ever, even in the cool autumn air. He liked it better this way, in fact. It made it more comfortable to wear more clothing, the long pants and long sleeves and jacket he liked, especially when he ran. When he went this fast, he hardly felt the cold, and his mind was occupied elsewhere.

What if his parents made demands of him in exchange for their help? What if they expected him to return to vampire territory, to isolate himself out of the way in a socially-acceptable manner? Now that he’d tasted true companionship, he almost couldn’t bear to give it up. And what about Jim? Ever since Laken’s abduction, he’d been more scared at night. The very least Kane owed him was his protection.

His petty worries disappeared the instant he realized he could hear a vehicle coming closer.

Kane ran faster, opposite the sound. He’d likely been pushing fifty miles an hour before, and could make sixty if he tried–but he was out of practice, and the vehicle was faster.

A glance behind him showed moonlight glinting off a silver crossbow.

“I have permission!” he wailed as the off-roader gained, heart threatening to burst from his chest. This couldn’t happen, not again, no. Jim and Liz wouldn’t even think to look for him until a day had passed, a day that could easily be spent baking in the hot sun. “Liz Lieberman granted me permission to cross! Please, I didn’t do anything! Mercy!”

“Kane?” an unfamiliar voice called. The vehicle caught up to him, but there was no attack. “Oh shit, it’s you!” the driver said. “It’s so dark, I almost didn’t recognize you from the picture Laken showed us. Thanks for bringing ‘em back.”

Kane slowed, just a bit. “What?” he squeaked, tears streaming down his face.

The hunter in the passenger seat elbowed his partner, making quick movements with his hands that Kane could not understand. A signed language of some sort, he assumed. Though he didn’t know much about such things, other than that spoken orders under persuasion often didn’t work on humans who utilized it.

“Uh, my partner wants to know if you’re good? Like, you’re alright?” The driver asked. “Did we scare you? Sorry. Just, uh, you know, gotta be quick with the other guys. One second wasted and you miss ‘em, and that’s someone’s whole life, y’know.”

“Oh. Um, yes, you’d–you’d frightened me. I’m sorry.” Kane wasn’t quite sure what he was apologizing for. “Am I… free to go, sirs?”

“Yeah! Yeah, you can go… sir? Shoot, don’t let us keep you,” the hunter assured.

The one in the passenger seat made more hand-signs, waving him goodbye after. “Nice to meet you!” the other translated, finally driving away.

Kane picked up speed again and didn’t stop until he was sure he’d left the border far behind. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

He was so close to going back to the pain. If they hadn’t recognized him, he would have been skewered with silver–likely soon killed, not tortured, given they were from Liz’s guild, but still, he would have died in pain. No matter how hard he breathed, he felt like he couldn’t get enough air, and he wasn’t sure if it was that he’d been sprinting for too long or the sheer horror.

He wanted Jim. He wanted Jim to hold him and tell him everything was alright, that he was safe, that no one was going to hurt him. But Jim was miles and miles away, and could not help him here.

And he couldn’t cry on the ground forever. He was burning moonlight, and he needed blood.

Kane forced himself to his feet and wrapped his arms around him. If he squeezed his eyes tight, he could pretend he wasn’t alone, for just a moment.

After a minute like that, he started running once more.

-

By the time Kane reached his parents’ estate, he’d mostly calmed down. It was hard to feel as though hunters would ambush him out of nowhere when he went deep enough into vampire territory to see buildings and people. Any hunter here would be apprehended in seconds.

He touched the gate, brass-coated, though he knew there was silver underneath. There seemed to be some sort of electronic device attached to it, a new addition since his last visit, but he wasn’t sure how to use it. He could climb it, or simply shout, and one of the staff would likely hear him. If he wanted to be extra polite, which he did, he could simply stand here until someone came or went and ask to be let in.

And then that would be it. Kane would be standing face-to-face with his parents. He would accept Father’s ire without complaint. He’d had worse, he reminded himself, even when it came to the comparable. The hunters had spit on him while calling him worthless, ground his face into the floor while forcing him to decry himself as beneath them. It had been so much worse.

His hand shook against the gate.

You’ve really changed, man.

Had he? If he was still back here, ready to take whatever judgments his parents threw at him, debase himself and eagerly beg for their forgiveness, had he really changed? There were humans in there. Captive, hurt humans who he could never in a thousand years be able to free if he tried, locked away in their quarters. What happened to all his regrets? His vows that he would never associate with anything of the sort again?

What would he have done differently here before, if he’d realized back then everything he knew now?

Kane left.

-

It took him a bit to find it, he hadn’t been to this town before, but it wasn’t far, and he knew the address.

There was a different kind of dread this time. If he was rejected here, it might be even worse than his parents. But as he rang the doorbell, he knew this was what he had to do.

The man who answered looked almost exactly the same as the last time he’d seen him, thirteen years ago. The same dark skin, perfect hair, typically garishly-colorful shirt.

Bellamy’s eyes went impossibly wide, as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Kane?”

taglist in reblogs, chapter 57 coming july 30th :)

@whumpmasinjuly

[xan-izme]

Get through me first (Dad!Miguel x daughter/Venom!Reader)

I have been a little too into the Miguel fics, especially when there is angst involved. So now you all gotta deal with it.😊

Summary: You were one of the Spidey's that was transported into Earth 1610. You helped Miles save his universe and was able to go back home. That's when your father who you hadn't seen in 3 years recruits you to help keep the multivers in balance. You join, but it doesn't mean your ready to fight him if it means protecting Miles.

TW: Child neglect, death, mentions of death, violence, cursing, angst, lotta angst, daddy issues, issues in general

You stared down the big portal, after everyone jumped in one by one. You were the last one left. You turn to Miles you looked sad, but happy and satisfied that things are done, and everyone is able to go home.

"Guess this is goodbye." Miles spoke. You sighed and nodded your head.

"We should stay!" Venom's voice was loud and clear for you. Nearly jumped yourself at how loud he was.

"We can't." You responded sternly.

"WHY!"

"We'll die if we stay any longer, you little parasite."

Miles looked at you, with that same look he had when you seemed to be talking to yourself. But he smiled fondly "I'm goanna miss the two of you."

You and Venom were a little taken aback. Some wouldn't refeur to you and Venom as two. Forgetting Venom and leaving him out of the equation fully. "You're a good kid Miles, if you ever need help, me and Venom will be by your side. Promise."

Your words comforted him. Miles doesn't know fully why, but you didn't seem like someone who breaks a promise. And you don't.

"This is no fair. I will make you cry now! cry Y/n, cry." Venom took over your emotions and was forcing you to cry. You quickly pull down your mask and cleared your throat.

" Be safe out there, Miles Morals." You leap off and dive in headfirst into the portal.

It's only been three months since you returned back home. You and Venom back to the routine of saving people and you preventing Venom from wanting to bite heads off and from eating too much chocolate.

One day, while you and Venom visited a restaurant that you and Venom would go to frequently, even before Venom, you were a constant costumer.

"Hey Malik." You greeted the young man in the front counter.

"Hello Ms. O'Hara. table for two as usual?" Malik grabbed a menu, ready to lead you to your usual table.

"Yup." You responded shortly before he took you to your table.

"I want food! give me the ribs! oh oh! Tater tots. Get us Tator tots!"

You chuckled as you looked at the menu to get yourself a few drinks for you and Venom. As you were doing that, you hear someone take a seat in front of you. Your brows furrowed, looking up you take a glance of a man you haven't seen in a long time.

You sighed and kept your eyes back on the menu. "Didn't know you were back in town." You spoke dryly.

The man in front of you inhaled sharply, relaxing himself before opening his mouth.

"I wanted to talk to you."

You hummed, unamused and pulled out your phone and slide it towards him. "I'm a little busy right now. So just put your number in there and we can speak later."

The man sighed. "Please, mi hija."

You slammed the menu on the table. Finally staring him in the eyes.

"Miguel, this is my mealtime. A time of peace, and right now you are not making me feel peaceful. So, I suggest you take my first offer and just put your number in." You were firm with your words, almost threatening.

Miguel paused for a moment, between the phone and his daughter. Seeing that you were reasonably mad at him, he took the phone and entered his number in. He stood up, ready to leave "I'll see you later."

As Miguel walked away, you hear a very displeased Venom.

"What a dick."

You huffed and brought the menu back up to your face.

"Agreed"

"Why are we here. I don't like it here." Venom was complaining about being in the little spider club house, Miguel was walking by your side, he would be getting a little too close to you here and there. Making you scoot further and further away from him.

"We are here to protect our world. You want what happened with Miles happen to us?" You hear Venom groan and shut off for the moment.

"Y/n, I'm really grateful for you being here. We need the help." Miguel stared down at his daughter with a soft smile. You stayed staring straight ahead.

"I didn't do this for you. I got people to protect Miguel." You wanted to make sure he understands that he didn't see this as a daddy daughter bonding moment. The situation he explained to you was serious. No distractions within the workforce.

That will disrupt everything.

"I see. . . Y/n, I just wanted to- to apologize for what I had done. I was wrong, very wrong." You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the regret and guilt written all over his face. You paused and stared at him.

Venom was practically screaming at you to not forgive him. To punch his face. But you didn't. And when you didn't, Venom got upset and took over your arm and punched Miguel hard.

"Oh shi- Venom what the hell!?"

"He does not deserve our kindness; he does not deserve our LOVE! Now bite his head off!" You ignored what Venom was saying and ran towards Miguel's side. "You good? My bad, Venom just gets like that sometimes."

You helped Miguel up. "It's alright, mi hija. You've gotten strong." Miguel had blood running down his nose. But he continued to smile softly at you.

You were quick to remove yourself from him. Clearing your throat and told Miguel to continue.

Being a part of the Spider-society was actually a big help for you and Venom. Being able to capture anomalies before they cause too much of a wreck for your universe. You kept a good distance from Miguel.

Even though he tried to offer time alone together that didn't involve the work as being a Spidey, you rejected those advances.

"Come on Y/n. He really does care about you. He just wants to make up for lost time." Jessica Drew, Miguels right hand woman was trying to convince you to at least try to be with Miguel.

You hummed, clearly uninterested in the conversation. Typing away on your laptop, working on some homework you had to finish for school.

"That sounds amazing- oh, hey can you pass me my cup please?"

Jessica frowns and grabbed your cup, as she handed the cup back to you. She takes a glance down to your bag that you brought and see multiple bracelets, handmade.

"Oh, those from f/n? how's she doing?'' Jess leaned on the wall as she watched you pause for a moment. You were quick to get back to typing.

"She's dead." You say with a slight cringe. Knowing the awkward atmosphere, you were making wasn't one your good for.

Jess was taken aback, not knowing of this news before hand.

"Oh . . . I'm sorry." Jess walked towards you and took a seat next to you. You stayed focused on your screen. Jess gently laid her hand on your back "What happened."

You took a quick glance down to the ground, pausing your typing. Taking in a deep sigh, you continued working "The bridge was falling apart. And I had to choose between a bus with 29 passengers or my best friend . . . f/n ended up having to choose for me. She said her goodbyes then cut herself off from my web."

Your mind drifted to the look on your friend face when she realized it was her time.

You sighed and changed the subject quickly.

"So, like . . .Don't ya'll got paternity leave or something cuz . . ." You looked down to Jessica's baby bump. Jess laughed as you moved on with your work.

"Yo, you needed help-" You froze in place as you saw Miguel in the room Jess. You frown "You wanted me, Jess?" You gave the pregnant woman a look. Jess had said she and she only needed you.

"Oh yes! I wanted you to look over these anomaly cases with me. But I'm not really feeling good." Jess rubbed her baby bump. You gave her a deadpan look.

"So, you'll be working with Miguel!" Jess was quick for someone who wasn't 'feeling well' and got out the room. You sighed and looked to a nervous smiling Miguel. You were displeased with this outcome, but this was going to happen, minus well get it done with.

You walked up next to Miguel and immediately got to work. An awkward silence overcame the air around the two of you.

Miguel kept glancing over to you. Taking in small details, like your suit and how it was in a way some comparison to Venoms when the alien takes over you. The way your fingers fidget when taking a small pause.

The silence soon became too much for Miguel to bare and he decided to speak "So, ho-how's school? Still playing basketball?"

Your brows furrowed "No."

"Oh! Stopped liking it?"

"No."

"Umm . . . did you get benched.?"

"No."

"Are you just going to say no to everything I say?" Miguel had his hand on his hip, a little frustrated by your blunt replies. You took a moment before turning your head to him.

"No."

"Ay dios mio- I'm tying here mi hija. Please I'm begging you. Make this easier." Miguel turns his full attention to you while you were still focused on the multiple screens in front of you.

"And why should I do that?"

"Because I want this family to be happy--"

"Family?" You scoffed.

"--And I want us to be happy together."

"Okay compañero, you threw this little family out the fucking window when you ran off to raise a child that wasn't even yours."

"Language niña." You ignored his warning and kept going

"And you have no right. No fucking right to waltz into my already shitty life and make it worse!"

"I SAID LANGUAGE!"

The two of you were already in each other's faces. Unphased by the others raging expression.

"No trates de reparar algo que está más allá de la reparación"(Don't try to mend something that is beyond repair.)

You walked away from the man. Leaving him the room. Once you got to your dimension, you began to wreck everything in the room. His room to be specific. Not like he even comes back. Too busy with work Too busy with the life that didn't involve you.

You couldn't take it anymore. You began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Y/n, we can't be upset about him now of all times."

"Why is he being worried now!? it's not fair Venom! it's not fair!" Your spoke between your cries. Venom took over your arms to try and wipe your tears. But it just kept coming.

All Venom could do was be there for you, as always, in your time of need.

You stared down at the mini hologram of you cradling your dear friend's limp body. begging he not to leave you.

"You too?'' Miles voice broke out. You looked at him with glossy eyes. Once your eyes met with his sad puppy eyes, you had to look away.

Miguel went on about the canon. And how it keeps everything in balance. If a canon is broken, then a world collapses. That's when it hit Miles, his dad was next. The boy refused to let the spot take yet another precious's person in his life.

But when Miles expressed his displeasre of the canon, Miguel trapped him, you were quick to bang on the forcefield.

"Oey! let him out!"

"He'll destroy the multiverse!" Miguel argued back. Peter B. and Gwen tried to convince Miguel to let Miles go and that he was going too far. suddenly, Miles was able to break the forcefield. You didn't waste time to grab the boy's hand and make a run for it.

The chase was hectic, but you finally got Miles back to HQ.

"Alright niño. This is as far as I can take you. But me and Venom will hold Miguel and the others off." Miles stared up at you with a look of confusion "Wait, you're not coming?"

It was clear he didn't want to do this alone. And you didn't want him to go through its alone ether. You brought Miles close to you and brought your foreheads together. You had Venom exit your body and enter Miles body.

"Venom will give you as much help as you need."

The two of you hear the others approaching. You hugged Miles for the last time and put him in the Go Home machine.

You quickly made yourself placed far away from the machine. You looked back at Miles one last time and smiled.

"Be safe out there, Miles Morals"

Once Miguel came through the doors, he was met with you in his way.

"Just give the kid up Y/n!"

You laughed as your own claws came out. Your set of fangs came in

"You want him? You got to get through me first."

The last thing Miles saw was you and Miguel running at each other.

[loveephia]

some of the HQ boys with a girlfriend who has fluffy cheeks. (kuroo, atsumu, kenma, oikawa, akaashi, sakusa.)

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, reader getting called some petnames, reader is annoyed by atsumu, you get compared to cute animals a bit.

⚠ warning/s: none.

part 1 | part 2

KUROO TETSURŌ

now kuroo's seen a lotta things

but your cheeks have got to be the most bizarre sight he's ever witnessed.

(in a good way, of course)

HE LOVES PINCHING THEM. HARD.

and whenever you ask him why he does it, he goes on a lengthy explanation about how cuteness aggression works

"kitten, it's because in response to positive experiences, some people express their feelings in a dimorphous manner, meaning they—"

gosh, you love this nerd

but pls shut him up with a little peck. he'll continue to ramble until the subject is about softshelled turtles or something.

ATSUMU MIYA

honestly, he never understood why people would gush over their s/o back then

it was always: "waaah! _____ is so cool!" or "_____ is the most beautiful girl ever.."

then, he got into a relationship with you

"your cheeks're so cute, darlin'." atsumu pokes one while you hiss at his statement. you can't stand people who comment about your cheeks!

oh, but atsumu thinks you're just like an angry little kitten

so with a childish smile, here he is stretching your cheeks like they're daifuku.

"hands off, miya."

"ouch, why are we on a last name basis now?!"

KENMA KOZUME

here is a visual representation of kenma when he finds out how fluffy your cheeks are:

thank you for coming to my ted talk.

i can imagine kenma's fingers being sore for playing video games hours on end, so a bit of pillow-like material your cheeks can help with the aching!

so here you are, looking at kenma with a dumbfounded smile, as he's still massaging your cheeks round and round in circles

"ken? what's this all about?"

fuee.. fuee..

"..nothing." he mumbles

okay, kenma. whatever makes you happy, i guess.

TŌRU OIKAWA

this man loves pda, so expect a lot of cheek kisses from him

he's all shameless about it too

which irritates you cuz you get shy very easily.

and he knows. HE KNOWS HIS EFFECT ON YOU.

oikawa could be talking to the other third years, and every now and then, he'd kiss your cheek

LIKE STOP STOPS TOP STOp sSFOPSpstop

"t- tōru.. can you not?" you stuttered out, a blush creeping up your neck

"but princess, you're just so cute!" he whines

oikawa has a lot of fans, but the only person he'll ever be a fan of, is you :D

KEIJI AKAASHI

honestly, he doesn't really care that much

but he thinks they're the cutest feature you have.. (♥︎ . .)

when your cheeks are full from eating, akaashi thinks that you look just like a little hamster

y'know how a hamster stores food in their cheeks and they puff up a ton?

yeah, that's how akaashi sees you.

"keiji, s'there sumthin' wrong?" you manage to say from your mouthful of food

"please don't talk while you eat, angel." he reminds you, wiping off a small speck of rice from your chin

akaashi makes a mental note to add a hamster emoji at the end of your contact name later

"my y/n 🐹"

SAKUSA KIYOOMI

he doesn't like pda, nor does he like physical contact in general

though he can't help but be a little bit curious as to how your round cheeks feel against his pointer finger

after all, the boy's only human 😔

so he does the inevitable and pokes one

you stopped breathing for a good sixteen seconds.

"..sakusa?" you turn to him, all mortified

"soft.." he thought

sakusa doesn't like kissing out in the open, but he'll settle for your innocent little cheek-to-cheek kisses

because he gets to feel the plush of your cheek against his

his face is so red pls someone save him 😭😭😭

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[nadien-aqui1]

On Earth

Jessica: I’m really glad we get to do this. I just… Oh, I can’t believe you’re actually here! That we finally got to meet each other for real, in person!

Jaune: Me too, Jessica. Earth is… so different, but it’s also kind of similar to Remnant in some ways.

Jessica: I know what that’s like. Traveling the galaxy, I get that same feeling whenever I’m on a new planet. 

Jaune: It’s not just that, it’s… I was… in a bad place, both figuratively, and literally. I just think it’s… comforting, knowing that there’s a sense of familiarity.

Jaune found it difficult to open up to his friends about his time in the Ever After. They’d fought side by side through some of the toughest events in recent history for Remnant. But that was just it. It was recent history for Remnant — a lifetime ago for him. 

His lifetime.

He’d spent more time in the Ever After than he had on Remnant. He had his reservations about going to another world again, but seeing other humans - actual people - it put him at ease a bit. 

Jessica takes Jaune’s hand in hers and gives it a firm, but gentle, squeeze. They make eye contact briefly before Jessica looks down somberly.

Jessica: I… know what that’s like, too.

Jaune: Do you want to talk about it?

Jessica: … Maybe another time. Remind me to tell you about something called the Sinestro Corps. But what do you want to do?

Jaune: Well, I am kinda hungry. Maybe you could show me what Earth food is like?

That made Jessica giggle. It’s easy to forget that, to Jaune, Earth is still a completely alien world, even if he is also human.

Jessica: Well, what kind? We’ve got Italian, Mediterranean, Chinese, Indian, Korean Barbecue.

Jaune: Uhh… I didn’t know there were so many options, heh.

Jessica: Earth is a big place. Lotta different cultures and ethnicities with their own foods. So what’ll it be?

Jaune didn’t say anything for a moment. Then an idea came to him.

Jaune: What about yours? I mean, what kind of foods from your culture do you like?

Jessica just smiles, excited to show Jaune what Earth, and now her culture, has to offer

Jessica: Okay, Mexican food it is. C’mon, I wanna know what you think of tacos.

Jessica Introduces Jaune to Earth (And Earth Things)

Prologue

Next

[thatanimewriter]

LOVE ME RIGHT.

➳ request: Hiiiii! Dunno if you’re taking requests but if you are- then here: maybe could you do JJK characters love language? If you don’t want to do all/some then maybe just Maki. Thanks you for reading! Stay healthy and safe<3

➳ character/s: itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, kugisaki nobara, inumaki toge, zen'in maki

➳ warnings: mention of food (megumi)

➳ notes: omg the babiesss, i love this ;v;

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈.

receiving: physical touch, quality time

he will never deny a cuddle and will, in fact, ask for them every night

you just gotta sneak into his dorm, cause he hugs pillows or plushies probably, but prefers if it's you

he's sensitive about death because of everything that's been going on, so he wants to spend a lotta time with you

you both get fulfilling lives that way, and he feels secure knowing he didn't take you for granted

giving: acts of service, words of affirmation

your little butler omg, he would wait on you ANY TIME he can and will resist complaining about it

wants to make sure you KNOW you're treasured and will never let you doubt that

reinforces that message with the things he says about you, he's a compliment machine

would never give you up, let you down, run around and desert you, make you cry, say goodbye, tell a lie, or hurt you-

── 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈.

receiving: gift giving (??), acts of service

he's not a very materialistic person, but any HANDMADE gifts, he's keeping those til the day he DIES

appreciates the time you put in to doing something nice for him or finding something that he would like

similarly appreciates any silent affection like getting him his favourite drink without asking

or making sure he eats if he's busy training and might forget to in lieu of getting stronger

giving: quality time, acts of service

he's not one to shower you in flowery language or anything, but he'll enjoy your company and keep you company

likes to be near you, but you don't necessarily have to talk, he just wants you to know he's there and he'll listen

will also return favours like making your bed all nice in the morning or buying you things you're slowly running out of

he's just observant like that, you'd probably never know you're low on deodorant or something when he buys more before it's empty

── 𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀.

receiving: gift giving, words of affirmation

treat her like a princess and you're staying forever, no doubt in her mind

she loves a good shop, and bonus if she gets stuff she wants without paying herself-

likes being told how great she is and stuff, especially in moments of insecurity or fear

helps her feel less delulu about herself (or it could be you feeding into her fantasies just to see her smile-)

giving: words of affirmation, physical touch (??)

greatest hypewoman you'll ever have, the absolute number 1 cheerleader for you

makes sure you both feel like total icons as much as possible and will go so hard if you have a bad day

might reward you with a lil kiss, and she might feel the need to pamper you

probably not entirely clingy, but even just touching knees or being shoulder to shoulder is enough for her :))

── 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄.

receiving: physical touch, quality time

i feel like if you give him words of affirmation, he'd feel kinda shitty about not being able to say those things back

he likes just being able to spend time with you and enjoy your presence and the things you do together

little koala bear at night time, dude loves a cuddle and will hide his face in your neck

i hope you went to the bathroom before cuddles, cause you're not getting up any time soon

giving: physical touch, acts of service

a lot of wordless forms of expressing love, because he wants you to know he loves you so much but without cursing you

head pats and lil kisses galore, you'll never be touch starved with him around

will do stuff for you to show he loves you, especially stuff he hates, cause then you know he's down bad

yes he hates doing laundry, but he will do yours any time if you're too tired to do it

── 𝐙𝐄𝐍'𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈.

receiving: physical touch, words of affirmation

girlie is touch starved, but she doesn't HATE affection, she's just awkward about it

zen'in clan don't do affection, she's not used to it, but she's getting to enjoy the benefits of a hug

likes getting praise for things (also because of zen'in clan emotional constipation-)

an extra confidence boost that she didn't know she needed, but will happily accept, sometimes with a bit of a blush

giving: acts of service, gift giving

will do things for you to let you know she's got your back no matter what

also makes you realise how much she pays attention to you, because she does things you didn't realise you needed to do/wanted to get

gives you little trinkets that made her think of you on any missions she might go on without you

you're always on her mind, even if it doesn't seem like it, and the amount of little things you have from her is proof

[paladin-heart5]

New Perfume

Leon Kennedy x reader smut

A/n: y'all omg I did it! This is like my second smut (ever) so please be gentle. I feel pretty good about it, but I apologize for repetitive words, I'm working on breaking that habit. Thank you and enjoy:)

Word count: 2.2k

CW: smut, uses of sir and slut, pheromone perfume, praise and a lil degrading, mentions of porn, some aftercare and a lotta love

The doorbell of you and Leon's apartment rang through, causing you to jump up. You rushed to the door and opened it to find a small package. You smiled and grabbed it, excitedly going to the bathroom. Today is your second anniversary with Leon, and you thought you'd try something new. You've seen around the internet there's this pheromone perfume, it's supposed to attract your partner or something like that. You wanted to give it a try, see if Leon will get all possessive, you love when he keeps you close.

Currently your boyfriend is at work, and you have the apartment all clean. Leon wanted to take you out to dinner tonight, so you take a shower and put on a beautiful purple dress that hugs your curves. You decide to go with a simple hairstyle, but add a cute head piece to make the look. Finally, you put on some makeup, and spray the perfume on your neck just to test the waters. It does smell nice, it's floral with a hint of vanilla. Looking in the mirror, you smile, feeling good about yourself. Perfect timing too, your boyfriend is home.

You head to the living room and see Leon shrugging off his jacket. He lets out a grunt as he stretches. You smile and go to greet him, he hears you and hums. “Hey baby, how's it going?” He looks up only to freeze at the sight of you. You're gorgeous, absolutely ravishing. He swears he has literal heart eyes. You blush at his stare, but keep up the sweet smile.

“Great now that you're here! I missed you so much!” You bounce a bit, holding your arms out for a hug. Leon snaps out of his daze and chuckles. 

“I missed you too, baby. Happy anniversary.” He goes to hold you close to him. Immediately, he is met with the new, powerful aroma that you carry. It causes him to pause, he then digs his face into your neck to get a better smell. You giggle at this, his nose tickling you. He pulls you closer, “new perfume?” He asks with a low tone. You smile and nod.

“Happy anniversary! I found it online and it sounded really nice. Thought I'd try something new. Do you like it?” You explain softly, keeping the important part out. Leon grips your hips slightly and hums in acknowledgement. You eventually try to pull away from him, but he huffs. 

“You need to get ready for our dinner date, my love.” You say to him as you finally get out of his grasp. He groans and goes to get ready. He definitely rushes, not wanting to be away from you for too long. You smile, this is working better than you thought.

~~~~

Once you and Leon enter the restaurant, you look around at the decor. It's a pretty fancy place, with chandeliers, and candles at each table. Artwork of food and families eating together. Thankfully it's not too busy, and with the reservation Leon set, you both are quickly led to a booth. You both sit and take a look at the menu, Leon holding your hand the whole time. His possessive side was definitely showing. You relax and pick out what you want to eat. Your boyfriend orders a bottle of white wine for the both of you. You both talk about each other's days, and some future plans to spend more time together like this. With Leon going on missions a lot, and you having an inconsistent schedule recently, you were lucky to have the chance to be here. The waiter brings the wine and takes down your orders. Once he leaves, you see a gentleman staring at you from one of the other booths. You don't pay much mind to it.

“I don't like the way he's watching you.” Leon speaks up, having a slight growl in his tone. You're surprised he noticed so quickly, even though he's always been observant. You squeeze his hand.

“It's nothing to worry about, Lee. Let's enjoy our night, hm? Oh! I spoke to my boss about the new position I'm looking into, it'll give me a better schedule and good pay! She seems to be seriously considering it.” You smile excitedly. Leon returns the smile and kisses your hand, still drawn to your scent. 

“That's wonderful, baby. I promise I'm going to try making more time for you too.” He says softly, gazing into your beautiful eyes. 

“That would be amazing, but I don't want you getting in trouble, my love.” You hum softly, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. He simply scoffs.

“You don't have to worry about that.” The two of you continue to talk as you eat and drink your wine. You feel yourself grow more relaxed, rambling about life. Leon watches you with admiration, mostly listening, but he responds when he thinks it's appropriate.

After an hour or so, you both leave the restaurant. You laugh at Leon's jokes as you stumble in your heels. He holds you up, keeping his arm around your waist. He smiles and kisses your head. As you approach the car, you hear a man call out. Turning your head, you see the guy that was watching you earlier. He's heading towards you, but Leon keeps you behind him. The guy smiles and looks at you before your boyfriend.

“Evening, the name's Carter Dame, you two look like a beautiful couple. I want to hire you as a model, which could mean a lot of money. I could make you stars.” The man, Carter, hands you a card. You raised a brow as you read it. 

“You mean.. porn stars?” You ask in confusion, Leon blinks.

“Yeah that's not happening.” He states, getting you into the car, Carter steps forward.

“I assure you we'll do anything you'd like to make ya comfortable. Your little lady there will capture quite the audience-” 

“Absolutely not, she's mine. I don't plan on sharing in any way.” Leon snaps, he then gets into the car and starts it. You look at him in surprise, you feel your cheeks heat up and your stomach twist. You don't hear him talk like that often, but boy was it hot. The man has a look of defeat as he steps aside, but still mouths ‘call me’ to you as Leon drives off. You both sit quietly on the way home, Leon isn't touching you though. He hasn't let go of you all night, but the lack of touch worries you. 

You both arrive home and he steps out of the car. Your boyfriend goes over to your side and grabs your hand. He gets you out of the vehicle and drags you inside. You try to keep up with him while in your heels. He unlocks the door and steps in.

“Leon, are you alright?” You ask as you shut the door. Next thing you know, Leon has you pinned to the door. He kisses you roughly, a noise escaping you in the process.

“You really didn't think I'd notice?” He asks with a growl, you feel yourself become wet.

“What- what do you mean?” You ask confused. He smirks and chuckles lowly.

“I saw the perfume in the bathroom. You just wanted some attention didn't you?” He grips your hips before feeling up your ass. “I played along for the most part, but you better believe I mean it when I say I'm not sharing you. You're mine.” He starts attacking your neck with kisses and sucking. You moan and grip his hair. 

“S-sorry, Leon. Just.. just want you.” You whimper as he leaves hickeys on you. Another deep chuckle escapes him. He lifts you up bridal style and carries you to your shared bedroom.

“Bastard thinks he can make you a porn star, like hell. You're my little slut, aren't you baby?” You can feel the rumble in his chest as he speaks, at this rate, you're soaked.

“Yes sir, all for you.” You answer meekly, he smiles and kisses your head, laying you on the bed.

“Good girl.” He whispers, rubbing his hand under your dress. You bite your lip, kicking off your heels. Leon then goes back to kissing you. As he gets down to your collarbone, he starts to strip you. You let him do so, also taking off his shirt in return. The sight of his toned body never ceases to amaze you. If the Lord is real, he did good with this one. You can't seem to look away from him.

“Like what you see, babygirl?” Leon snaps you out of your thoughts. You nod eagerly and feel him up.

“You're so handsome.” You whisper, kissing his chest. He chuckles and lifts your chin. 

“And you, my dear, are breathtaking.” He speaks seductively, pulling you into a heated kiss. You moan, letting his tongue dance with yours. A ripple of goosebumps flows over your skin. Heat builds in your core, along with the heat of your touching bodies. The blonde caresses your cheek as he parts, he then takes off his bottoms. You drool at the sight of his dick, it's got more girth than length, veins visible. He strokes himself a few times, smirking at you.

“Ready baby?” He tilts his head curiously, you whine out a ‘yes sir’ as you spread your legs for him. He slides off your panties, watching as your pussy glistens in the light. His blue eyes darken, slowly running his fingers through your folds. You moan at the touch and he makes a tsk sound in response.

“Already so sensitive.” He takes his dick and starts to run you with it, your leg kicks slightly every time he runs over your clit. “Who do you belong to, hm?” Leon questions, teasing you. You whimper and rock your hips, yearning for him to be inside you. He only holds you waist down. 

“You.. Leon.” You breathe out, connecting your hands. Your boyfriend smiles and slowly inserts himself. You arch your back, eyes fluttering at the feeling of being filled.

“That's right, such a pretty little slut for me.” He growls, bottoming out in you. He waits a couple of minutes for you to adjust, holding both of your hands on the sides of your head. You take the time to admire him, his strong jaw, his beautiful eyes. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, you can tell he's holding back.

“You can move.” You whisper, lifting your head to kiss his nose. He softens a bit at this, a smile evident. He almost pulls out completely before slamming back in, which earns a gasp from you. He keeps a steady pace, groaning as he watches you. Squeezing his hands, you wrap your legs around his waist; wanting to be as close as possible. The sounds of skin slapping and breathy moans echo throughout the room. Your eyes are full of lust and admiration, hair all over the pillow beneath. Leon has a bit of sweat worked up, quiet groans escaping every now and then. How he can easily slide in and out of you, warm and tight. It's intoxicating.

“I love you.” He leans down to kiss your jaw. You smile and tilt your head a bit for him. You so badly want to hold his head, run your fingers through his hair, but you enjoy the hand holding. This form of intimacy really makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you too, Leon. Please..” You whimper, feeling the familiar tingle of your approaching orgasm. He smirks, deciding he wants to tease.

“Please what, babygirl?” You huff and squeeze his hands, beginning to lose your mind from the pleasure. “Aww, looks like you're losing yourself baby. Focus on me.” He coos, letting go of one of your hands to rub your hip. You whimper some more.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl.” How could you not respond to his praise? You just want to be his good girl.

“I-I wanna.. cum!” You moan out, trying not to let go of yourself without his permission. He chuckles, letting your free hand grip onto his shoulder.

“Go ahead then, baby. I'll follow.” He urges you, the way he groans as he gets closer makes you snap. Your eyes roll back as you tense up, letting yourself moan loudly as you cum. Leon feels you clench around him, his thrusting becoming sloppy. He curses as he cums right after you, a few more deep thrusts as he fills you. He then falls on top of you, holding you close as you both pant. You hold his head close to your chest, the feeling of his soft, blonde hair bringing you down from your high. Your boyfriend looks up at you and smiles, leaving quick kisses up to your lips.

“Are you okay, my love?” He asks softly, beginning to slide out of you. You let out a whine at the emptiness, but smile at him.

“Yeah, thank you, Leon.” You hold out grabby hands, and Leon laughs a bit.

“You're so cute. Alright, bath time.” He hums, lifting you up and carrying you to the bathroom. He sits you on the side of the tub and gets a warm bath set up. You simply admire him, happiness coursing through your mind.

“I'm so lucky to have you, I'm never letting you go.” You say with a sweet smile. Leon looks at you and raises a brow. 

“Oh yeah? I feel the same way, baby. You're all mine.” That perfume was so worth it.

[rwac96]

Pyrrha & Shallot # 3: Double Date

Pyrrha: *lowering her Scroll* "Oh, dear."

Shallot: *pummeling a sand bag* "What? Pumpkin Pete finally dropping you?"

Pyrrha: *annoyed, exhaled* "Ren canceled because Nora got arrested for ramping over getting waffles instead of pancakes."

Shallot: *stops his training* "The fuck? Crashing out over waffles sounds like rat behavior."

Pyrrha: *blinks at the Saiyan* "Um...me and Jaune still need another couple to complete the double date."

Shallot: "And you're asking me--Unnf!" *gets hit with a dress shirt & pants*

Pyrrha: "You and Weiss are going in their place."

Shallot: "Um, no."

Pyrrha: "Yes. Weiss and Jaune already agreed."

Shallot: *groans* "Is there gonna be good food where we're going?"

Pyrrha: "Yes--" *serious* "--and it means you don't eat up all the food."

Shallot: *annoyed* "Dammit!"

---

*At the diner, The Arkos couple sat next to the Ancient Snow pairing; Shalot fiddling with his necktie*

Shallot: *grumpy* "I hate wearing shit like this!"

Weiss: "Shallot, it's a way to look presentable. Even Jaune knows this!"

Pyrrha: *unamused* "And this date is already going to Hell."

Jaune: "Guys, please calm down."

Shallot: *folds his arms* "C'mon! I ain't gonna crash out."

Pyrrha: "Crash out?"

Weiss: *rolled her eyes* "Please tell me you didn't pick up brainrot slang from Trunks."

Shallot: "Huh, he's right. Weiss, shawty, you tripping--."

SMACK!

Weiss: *slaps Shallot* "Stop it! None of that drivel!"

Pyrrha: "Honestly, maybe don't pick up slang from a child who watches things from a Scroll Pad."

Jaune: *turns to the approaching waitress* "Look! Our food's here!"

*The waitress sets the food down, the extra plates being for Shallot*

Shallot: *grabbing silverware* "Thanks!" *proceeds to dig in...getting crumbs everywhere*

Weiss: *huffs, wiping crumbs from her grey-bleu dress* "Don't get crumbs everywhere!"

Shallot: *muffled* "Mhmmf?" *continues eating*

Pyrrha: "Don't eat with your mouthful."

Jaune: *cutting into his steak* "I don't think he cares now."

Shallot: *chewing on a chicken drumstick, then swallowing* "Lotta talk from a guy who ate out Fat Ass at a Movie Theater."

Jaune: *blushes, nearly choking on his food* "KAFF! KAFF-KAFF!!" *pounds his own chest*

Weiss: *shocked* "Shallot, uncalled for!" *turns to Pyrrha* "Pyrrha, tell me that's not true!"

Pyrrha: *blushing, death glaring at Shallot* "We agreed never to speak about that."

Weiss: *horrified* "Pyrrha Jen Nikos!! You let Jaune perform cunnilingus on you in public?!"

Jaune: *gasps, then turns to Weiss* "Not so loud!"

Paparazzi "Journalist": "Heya, Helen Hale from XWC, did I just hear that THE Pyrrha Nikos let this nobody eat her out in a movie theater?"

*Pyrrha looks petrified, Jaune covers his hands in embarrassment, and Weiss gulped, realizing her mistake*

Shallot: *smiles, oblivious to the vibe* "Yup."

Helen: *gasps, raises a camera, and begins taking pictures* "Holy Hell! This is big news! Pyrrha Nikos, Champ in the ring, freak in the sheets!"

*This results in more paparazzi arriving, crowding around the quartet and assaulting them with flash photography*

Shallot: *angry* "Hey! Hey!! HEY FUCK OFF!!"

Weiss: "Shallot, darling, don't make this worse--."

Helen: *turns to Weiss* "Hold on! Weiss Schnee, Atlas Songbird, and SDC Heiress? You called him darling. You two dating?"

Shallot: "HEY! Don't ask my matefriend personal shit like that!!"

*Weiss facepalms, as the response causes more paparazzi to arrive at their table*

---

*The quartet is in Jaune's car, the swordsman driving with an ashamed look on his face, while Weiss and Pyrrha death glare at Shallot*

Shallot: "Well...that went downhill. That went bad--."

Pyrrha: *livid* "Because it was your damned fault!"

Shallot: "Oh, shut it, Fat Ass!

Weiss: "Shallot, you opened your big mouth, which doesn't involve eating!"

Pyrrha: "Thanks to you, our business went on XWC and all over social media!"

Shallot: *rolls his eyes* "Nyeh! Nyeh! Nyeh! It's not like our friends found out--."

*Weiss pulls out her Scroll, the contact number: RED DOLT*

Ruby: *On the Scroll* "Pyrrha! Jaune! That's so nasty!!"

Shallot: *wide-eyed* "Um, news...travels fast--."

Pyrrha: *twitches* "Shut. Up! Shut your imbecilic, ignorant, oblivious shit hole up!!"

Shallot: *blinks* "...Meatmuncher--."

*Pyrrha let out a murderous yell, tackling Shallot, and began pummeling his face in*

Pyrrha: *beating Shallot black & blue* "You! Impulsive! Dumb Ass! Idiot! Moronic! SHIT!!"

Jaune: *blinks, his eyes focused on the road* "You gonna stop Pyr from hurting your man?"

Weiss: *exhales* "No, he deserved it." *blinks* "You're not gonna stop your paramour from committing aggravated assault?"

Jaune: *shrugs* "Just like ya said, the dumb ass deserves it."

[blindmagdalena]

I’m in dire need of angst. How do you think he would react to someone who didn’t have a close relationship with their parents? I’m just imagining an awkward Christmas dinner, their family totally sucking up to Homelander. But also not-so-subtlety making passive agressive/snarky comments towards the reader.

It was definitely his idea to go to Christmas dinner in the first place. You've been dreading it. He insisted, though. You don't want to deny him this when he doesn't even have a family, and he's clearly so excited by the prospect of it.

And to be fair, it started off well enough. Your family was so excited to meet Homelander. They couldn't believe this was really happening!

It didn't last long, though. Your dad just had to make an offhanded remark about how you sure were "dating up."

That was the beginning of the end.

Through the night, Homelander grows gradually less boisterous. He's talking less, listening more. You're uncomfortable, dejected, but ultimately you knew it would end up this way. You just wish he would have listened to you.

By the time dinner rolls around, the tension in the air is palpable. Homelander has stopped preening under the praises of your family. You want nothing more than to eat and leave.

The final straw is when your mother sneaks in a snipe about how you "Really could have dressed up for the occasion."

"Well, Sheryl," Homelander begins, his tone immediately catching the attention of the entire table. "You could have tasted the mashed potatoes before you salted them into an inedible sodium fuckfest, but hey, I guess that's beyond your scope of competence."

The silence is deafening.

He isn't done. "God, y'know. You people. You had one job. All you had to do was be good. Nice. Shovel some food into your face and not be total fucking pricks at every available moment, but y'couldn't even manage that. Y'had to air out eeevery single little nitpick and grievance that sprang into your circus peanut brains."

You're stunned, jaw hanging. Your mother's expression mirrors yours. With a noise of indignation, your father begins to stand.

"Sit the fuck down, Henry," Homelander snaps with a flare of crimson to his gaze that puts a shiver down your spine. It works. Your father sits, and the light fades away. "Now that's the smartest thing you've done all night. Didn't think you had it in you."

Homelander pushes his mostly full plate away and sighs, picking up the napkin from his lap to fold. "I was the one who asked to come here, y'know. Practically begged. Thought Christmas might just be a grand ol' time. Do you know how often I'm wrong? I'll give you a hint: it's not often. But you..." He wags his finger between them, smiling more maliciously than you've ever seen him. "You folks really got me tonight."

He stands up. Your heart is pounding in pure anxious adrenaline. For a moment you have a terrible vision of him leaving you here, furious with them and you that this wasn't the experience he had been hoping for.

His hand in your face snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up sharply, and see him looking down at you, that wicked expression suddenly much softer. Kind, even with that anger still simmering under the surface. You close your mouth and take his hand, swallowing.

"Lucky for me I already got my Christmas wish, hmm?" He says, offering you a little wink. "You are... perfect," he says, leaning in to press a tender little kiss to your forehead, emphasizing it with a pointed mmmwuah. "No idea how you escaped all that unscathed," he says, nodding his head in your parents' direction. "So, how about you and I blow this popsicle stand and go find a whooole lotta mistletoe to stand under?"

You exhale a breathless little laugh, tears prickling hotly at your eyes, overwhelmed by how thoroughly he came to your defense. "I'd really, really like that."

Glancing over, Homelander offers your parents one last tight, venomous little smile. "Merry Christmas, you miserable fucks."

Which is exactly how he signs every single Christmas card he maliciously sends your parents each year from that day forward.

[perfectly-intoxicated]

Yancy isn't sure why he reaches out to Hannah.

Or he does know, and it's buried so deep that he can't get a proper look at it. Maybe he could if he wasn't currently pinned down by gunfire and about fifty percent sure he was close to finding out what the afterlife is like.

It isn't love. Hell, he's not sure he's capable of it... or if she is. They spent an incredible night (and morning) together. They've talked here and there. She makes him laugh. He appreciates her sass and how she doesn't take shit from nobody, not even him.

He smiles. Fuck it. Least he could do is let her hear his voice one last time in a message.

"Hey, gorgeous... yer not gonna believe the shit I've got myself into. Or hell, you probably will." He chuckles, and it's cut off by a pained groan as he clears his throat. "Listen... shits gone sideways. I, ah... got some rats that I need to exterminate. I just wanted to tell you that... I had a lotta fun. Yer one of a kind, ya know? Of course you do... that's why I like you." Another groan, pops of gunfire. "If anyone contacts you claimin' to know me, don't give 'em the time of day. If... when I'm good, I'll call you."

There's a pause and a grunt, and it sounds like he's on the move. "Take care, Red."

What the fuck.

Hannah stares down at her phone and feels her food turn into cardboard in her mouth. She swallows, and then blinks as she processes the absolute twisted shit that was the voice message left for her by Yancy.

What the fuck?

“Come on Opie, get off.” She’s gently ushering her dog off her lap, voice monotone and mind blank as she starts to listen in on the news being displayed on the TV. If it wasn’t for the voice message (her gut twists for some ridiculous reason at the reminder of pain in Yancy’s voice), she would’ve ignored it, but that’s one of his stupid cars and that’s his stupid self in the middle of a stupid fucking shootout.

She’s not nervous, she’s not anxious, and she definitely doesn’t get scared. Who knows how many times Yancy’s had to deal with this kind of stuff or something similar?

If she wasn’t currently so pissed off at the people shooting at him and maybe, selfishly, a little bit at Yancy himself for some reason, she would’ve gone back to eating. They weren’t even a thing. They weren’t anything important. She had no reason to go and help him, no excuse she could use without doing some internal searching.

She recognizes that street.

… Fuck.

With a loud groan of exasperation and frustration, she grabs her phone and heads out with her special guitar case and towards the center of the action. She dials his number, leaves a message when he doesn’t answer because he’s in the middle of his stupid fucking life-or-death situation, and quickens her pace.

“What the hell is going on, Yancy? Who the fuck are those people?!” She yells into her phone before lowering her voice to a loud scolding when she gets side-eyed by a random individual. “‘When you’re good, you’ll call me’? Like hell you will. I swear to God, if you get yourself killed, I’m raising you back from the dead and killing you myself!”

She’s already driving to the nearest corner where she won’t be seen when she hangs up.

[jjkamochoso]

hii I love your choso stories!

if you haven’t done a story like this already and your requests are open, could you do something about dancing in the kitchen with choso for the first time? I imagine it to be full of giggles because they’re both nervous but in love ahh 🥹

and if you don’t want to, I totally understand! 💖

Hi oh my gosh thank youuuu!!! You’re so sweet🥺❤️🫶 this is such an adorable idea, I hope I do it justice with this! Enjoy :)

Half Curse, Half Human, Whole Lotta Dancing

Choso x gn!reader

Fluff

Warnings: none

Choso was running late.

He could’ve sworn he planned this better in his head but everything had gotten out of hand.

“Yuji! I need you on cooking duty! I have to shower!”

Choso had a great, lowkey date planned for you and him. He was making dinner, your favorite food you had mentioned on your previous date, but his timing had been off all day. He was tied up earlier helping take down a special grade curse, then all the grocery stores in the area were out of a specific ingredient needed in the dish he was making. When he finally got home to his apartment, it was hours later than he had given himself to start preparing. You were supposed to be over in 20 minutes and he was almost out of time.

“Yuji!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Geez.”

Yuji emerged from the other room, texting with one hand and grabbing the spatula from Choso’s hand with the other.

“I got this, Choso. You go… do whatever you need to do to stop freaking out.”

“Thank you!” the elder brother yelled, hurrying to get ready.

When he was all washed up and dressed, he checked the time. He had 2 minutes left before you were supposed to get there and he breathed a sigh of relief. He really liked you and didn’t want to make a fool of himself, especially so early on in your relationship.

“Food’s good to go. I’m hanging out with Fushiguro and Kugisaki until you’re done. So I might be sleeping over with them if you’re sleeping over with y/n,” Yuji said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Choso reached over to punch him, but Yuji was too fast and moved out of the way. Before anything else transpired, they heard a knock at the door.

“Y/n’s here and you need not to be,” Choso said, guiding Yuji to the door and opening it.

“Hey y/n!” Yuji greeted you, “I’d like to stay and talk but my mean older brother is kicking me out.” He extended his lower lip into a pout and you fake scoffed at Choso who was standing in the doorway.

“Big meanie Choso, huh? Don’t worry Yuji, I’ll talk to him for you. Knock some sense into the guy,” you said, ruffling Yuji’s hair.

“Both of you ganging up on me? I should’ve seen this coming,” he said, exasperated, as you and Yuji laughed. The younger brother bid you goodbye as you entered the apartment complex, giving Choso a big hug.

“Mmm! Something smells delicious in here!” you exclaimed, following your nose into the kitchen. Your date trailed behind you, timid about his attempts to woo you with your favorite food.

“I made your favorite,” he said, getting plates together, and your eyes widened in excitement.

“Choso! You shouldn’t have! Thank you so much, this means so much to me!” You gave him another big hug and even though he hadn’t ate yet, he felt full.

“Please, take a seat.” He pulled a chair out for you at the table. “I’ll serve you.”

When he set the plate in front of you, your mouth immediately watered. Tasting it was even better. Dinner was absolutely incredible and you two fell into easy conversation while eating. You spoke about what had happened since the last time you went out, how today was, and swapped funny anecdotes. When dinner was over and dessert was finished, it was time to do dishes.

“Since you cooked such a delicious meal and worked so hard, I’ll do the dishes,” you said, trying to take his plate, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Uh, no way. We’re on a date, it’s only right that I do it all for you. You deserve to rest,” Choso argued.

“You deserve to rest, too! You did all the hard work earlier. Besides, it sounds like today wiped you out. I’d like to help out in any way I can.”

You admired his selflessness and stubborn nature, but sometimes he did too much for other people and not enough for himself.

“Alright. We’ll both do them. I wash, you dry.”

“I wash, you dry, then we have a deal,” you countered. Choso could tell you weren’t backing down and he secretly appreciated your willingness to help him, even if it was something so insignificant as washing dishes. While he cleared the table, you put on some music to help make the chore go by faster. Rolling up your sleeves, you got straight to work. Pan after pan, fork after spoon, you scrubbed away, absentmindedly humming along to whatever song was playing and moving a bit to the beat. You didn’t notice Choso was staring you during all of this. You had put him in an almost trance-like state; he couldn’t get enough of you and the way you moved your body to the music. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought about the kindness in your gesture of helping him clean up and he wished he could cook for you and wash dishes with you every day for the rest of his life. All of a sudden, he realized he was jealous of the way you, looking so effortlessly attractive and purely bewitching, were holding cutlery instead of him so he decided to do something about it.

“Dance with me,” Choso blurted out, startling you from your task at hand.

“What?” you asked incredulously. Choso was a man of few words, but the ones he chose to use, he spoke with such conviction and earnestness that no one in their right minds could turn him down. You especially, because in this moment, with soap bubbles flying around him and the kitchen light flickering ever so slightly, casting an ethereal glow over him, Choso had never looked more beautiful.

“Dance with me. Please?” His voice wavered on the second request but you had never been more sure of something in your life.

“I would love to.”

Choso took the soapy cutlery out of your hands to be dealt with later while you grabbed hold of both ends of the towel he had around his neck and pulled him in closer to you, smiles lighting up both of your faces. He placed his hands on your waist and you inadvertently jumped at the feeling of his still-wet skin, water slowly trickling down your sides.

“I’m sorry! I forgot to wipe them off,” he confessed sheepishly, pink tinging his cheeks while he anxiously used the dish towel that lay around his shoulders. You smirked deviously.

“I’m so getting you back for that!” In a flash, you reached behind him to scoop some leftover bubbles from the sink. The iridescent spheres now had a new home on the slope of his nose. All of a sudden, you both started giggling at the absurdity of it all as Choso took you back in his arms to sway to the music. He hadn’t had much experience dancing, much less with someone else, but thankfully, watching all those romantic comedies with Yuji had finally paid off as he had learned the basics of what to do. You were a mix of emotions as Choso gently indicated for you to do a little spin—nervousness, of course, was something you felt, but at the same time, you had never been more comfortable in your life. He had such a way of making butterflies appear in your stomach but an instant later it was like they were freed, flying far away and leaving no indication that they were ever there in the first place. As you spun back in and felt his gentle grip return to your body, you noticed that neither of you could help the big grins that wouldn’t fade from your faces.

“God, we’re so cheesy, aren’t we?” you laughed, “it’s like we’re in a movie or something.”

“If this was a movie, I’d give it a 5 star review on Letterboxd.”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“You know about Letterboxd? You’ve been hanging out with Yuji too much.”

“You’re right, I have been. I’d like to spend more of my time with you, if you’ll have me.”

You broke his gaze, looking away shyly while exploding internally. Nervous Choso was adorable, sure, but this smooth version of him was certainly a force to be reckoned with. The upbeat tempo of the current song faded out and was replaced by a slow melody. Both of you tensed up, unsure of how the other was feeling.

“Do you… want to keep dancing? I know I do.” You hated how meek your voice sounded but you were so desperate to continue your romantic evening with Choso. Luckily for you, it seemed he had run out of suave comebacks— he was absolutely craving the chance to keep you so close to him so he nodded eagerly to your question.

“Y-yeah, I do too.”

You shuffled in closer to him as you two settled into a slow, steady rhythm. If your face felt warm, rest assured, his was BLAZING hot. Choso had dreamt of the moment he could slow dance with someone near and dear to his heart and now that it was finally here, he couldn’t wait to savor the experience. He wished he could bottle his memory of this dance, how radiant you looked, your e/c eyes filled with adoration as they found solace in his own deep brown eyes. If he died tomorrow, he’d die as the luckiest man in the world for having shared this dance with you. Your thoughts were mirroring his as well. There was nothing that could’ve made this night any better. Feeling Choso’s loving embrace, seeing him look upon you with such fondness— it was better than anything you had dreamt up all those nights thinking about him. As the song came to an end and the playlist was over, you two barely noticed, too enraptured in each other, love and yearning practically oozing out of you both. You noticed yourselves leaning in even closer, noses grazing and gazes never faltering until Choso’s eyes flickered to your lips and back up as yours did the same.

“May I kiss you?” he practically whispered, not wanting to ruin the tender moment.

“Please do,” you mumbled, equally as quiet, and Choso wasted no time placing his plush lips on yours. It took all of your strength and willpower not to have your knees buckle and melt into a puddle on the kitchen floor as he expertly slotted his mouth onto your own. Your hands moved into his hair, tugging slightly, but not ruining his perfectly placed buns, and he let out a content groan. In return, his hands found their way up your back as he held you tight, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. When you eventually broke out of your loving embrace for air, you both felt flushed and out of breath, almost panting from your now swollen lips. Feeling giddy, you and Choso started giggling again, grateful to have shared such an intense yet gentle natured kiss. As you were catching your breath, you lifted your fingertips to softly trace Choso’s mark on his face, his eyes fluttering shut once more, relishing your touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” you muttered, really taking in all of his features as you admired him up close. He had surprisingly long eyelashes that rested on his pale skin. The dark circles around his eyes were prominent and ever so enticing. If you could only choose one thing to remember for the rest of your life, you think it would have to be what you’re experiencing right now because it truly felt like heaven on earth. It didn’t matter if you were in an apartment kitchen with layers of peeling paint around you or if you were in the Palace of Versailles—Choso was the most exquisite thing you could’ve ever laid your sight on.

“You stole my line,” he replied cheekily, a kind smile seemingly permanently etched into his features. You gave him a playful tap on the chest, rolling your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll be beautiful, you’ll be irresistible. Deal?”

“That hardly seems fair to you, darling, but it’ll do for now.” He shot you a wink and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped then and there.

“Dancing with you was fun, we should take a class for our next date! Maybe salsa?” he suggested.

The only salsa you were interested in was the one that goes on chips, but there was no way you could turn down his big puppy eyes. You just hoped he would buy sturdy shoes with a solid toe—you were going to be stepping on them a lot next time you hung out!

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 15

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 15: The Widow

Chapter Summary: Contemplation.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, suicidal thoughts and planning, intrusive thoughts, grief, swearing, alcohol use, uncertainty, parker, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, paranormal/spooky elements, food

Notes: Chapter title from “The Widow" by The Mars Volta. This is the peak of angst in this story, I promise. Pleaaaaaase be mindful of the trigger warnings above. Big big thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading 🖤✨ OK THANKS FOR READING YALL LOVE U SORRY IF ITS A BUMMER.

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As far back as you can remember, you hated the dark. 

The uncertainty of what it contained would keep you up for hours in your childhood bedroom. 

Your mind ran rampant, imagining all kinds of insidious creatures lurking in the shadows. Beneath your bed, in the corners, behind your closet door, outside your window. Watching, waiting for you to fall asleep. 

At some point you started sleeping with the lights on. Your parents got you a nightlight in an attempt to curtail this behavior, but it wasn’t enough. There were still shadows. You were still cloaked in darkness with the monsters. All this did was begin a new ritual, where you waited until they went to bed before turning on the lights. 

One night, after you heard your parents’ bedroom door click shut, you scurried over to the light switch and flipped it up. The overhead light came to life, flooding the room in safety. Relief.  

By the time you crawled back into bed, your dad opened the door and peeked into the room. He looked between you and the overhead light, sighing, “Louella, we talked about this.” 

“Don’t turn the light off.” 

“Why not?”

Even then it felt silly. The answer stuck to the inside of your throat, hot and buzzing. Instead of letting it out, you burrowed beneath the covers and curled up into yourself. 

The floorboards creaked as your dad made his way across the room. He sat on the edge of your mattress and rubbed your back, comforting you. 

“Sweet pea,” he cooed, peeling back your Lion King comforter to expose your face, “It’s not good for you to sleep with the lights on all the time.” 

At this, you pouted at your blanket, fiddling with the frayed edges. 

“The dark is scary, isn’t it?”

You nodded. 

“What’s so scary about it?”

You shrugged. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, then glanced around the room, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Most everyone is afraid of the dark at some point or another. You know why?” 

Another shrug. 

“In the light, we have certainty. We can look over in that corner and see with our own eyes there’s no boogeyman there. It’s just a corner. Done deal. The dark… that’s trickier, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the monsters you believed would manifest in the black abyss and swallow you whole. 

“You’re safe here, though. I promise. It’s just you in here. There’s nothing hiding in the dark. The corner is just a corner. All that’s under your bed is dust. In your closet, it’s just clothes.” 

“Can you check?” 

He chuckled, but granted your request, lowering himself to the ground to peek under your bed, telling you, “Nothing under here,” then climbed to his feet and strode over to your closet, pulling the door wide open so you could see the proof yourself. 

“All clear,” he said as he closed it and returned to your bedside, “Does that help?”

You nodded, casting your gaze down to your lap. A lingering feeling of dread still sat heavy in your stomach. His gaze stayed trained on you, obviously unconvinced. 

Eventually you asked, “But what if we just don’t see it now? What if it sneaks?”

Your voice felt tiny, meek. 

His shoulders deflated with a sigh. He scooted closer and petted your hair, holding eye contact when he countered, “Your brain is trickier than the dark ever will be. It makes you see things that aren’t there. Unless you believe it’s safe, you’ll never be able to rest.” 

He was right, you suppose. 

Rest only really found you when you trusted the lights’ promise that nothing would hurt you when it vanished. Even when the light broke its promise. Even when your dad went to the ER and returned in a box.

You tried to believe that your family would live on without him. That he would still somehow keep you safe. 

But he didn’t. 

Neither did your mother. 

Your mother cut the power and made you fend for yourself.

You learned that the only way to ensure nothing would hurt you was to make sure the room was vacant before deadbolting the door. To lock the windows and draw the blinds. You sharpened your teeth into fangs. You developed night vision and grew claws, and you hid so well you thought nothing could find you. 

Sure, it was dark. 

But the abyss had only one occupant, you knew that as fact. 

Sure, your skin ached to feel the sunlight. 

But you were safe. 

You’re not sure when it happened, but sooner or later, you swore you could see shapes shifting in the pitch black. When you laid in bed at night, you could hear something in the walls. The faint, dry scratch of nails on plaster. 

It sneaks. 

The thing became clearer over time. Bloated, purpled skin. Limbs that popped and groaned when it crept around just beyond your reach. It carried the stench of rot, putrid and sulphuric. 

Deep down in your guts, you understood the horrible truth. 

It was you. 

A part of you, anyway. Something that lived and died inside you, stillborn into the darkness just to haunt you. 

Then there was Ethan. 

Brash and charming, he took a sledgehammer to your walls and yanked you from your hiding place. Sunshine poured into the dark, dank room, soaking you in brightness. 

At first you were terrified. 

It overwhelmed your senses. 

Your eyes, having long forgotten how to operate in the light, burned in reaction. You clamped them closed for fear of going blind. It felt so warm you thought you might melt. Ethan’s honeyed words seemed like loudspeakers compared to the quiet echo of your breathing. To the faint, hoarse whisper of your monster. 

It took some time to acclimate to this long-forgotten brightness. But once you did, it felt incredible. You couldn’t believe you hid from it for so long. 

Together, you understood that with light, comes shadows. He had a monster who crept after nightfall, too. Sometimes you’d wake to the soft caress of its nails on your cheek, to his sour, putrid breath gurgling in your ear, “I will be the death of you,” like a promise. 

You came to trust its keeper, though. You believed it wouldn’t tear you apart, like yours wouldn’t Ethan.  

That is the promise of love, after all, isn’t it? 

To cherish one’s light so much that you’ll endure their dark? To love even the most haunted, grotesque parts of someone? Even their monsters? Even their ghosts? 

To trust that you can rest your weary bones in the dark without it destroying you? 

You believed this for so long. Bright years filled with joy and laughter and love, where you felt alive and trusted him. In those years, you forgot a very important fact:

 It sneaks. 

The fireplace lets out a sharp POP, drawing your attention away from the pitch black window. 

A smoldering log at the bottom of the hearth collapses. The fire shifts, birthing fresh flames that breathe hot against your cheeks. 

You pull the quilt snug around your supine body and huddle deeper into the couch, into the warmth of your body heat. 

When you called your mother-in-law yesterday and explained what was happening, that you needed a place to stay for a few days while you figure out what to do, she graciously granted your request to use their cabin out in the Sierra Nevada foothills, but warned you the place was winterized and had no central heating. 

“I don’t know what condition it’s in, nobody’s been out there since August. There’s quite a bit of firewood by the fireplace and out by the woodshed, use as much as you need. Electricity is on, but no internet and cell service is shoddy. You’ll need to get the water going, too—you know, why don’t you give me or Adam a call once you’re out there, we can walk you through it.” 

“Is there a landline? I don’t have my phone.” 

“Sure is.” 

“Ok, I’ll call you when I get there.” 

“Stop and get some groceries in town, too, there’s that grocery store—”

“Yeah, I remember,” you interrupted, eyes darting to the departures board, “I have to go, my bus is gonna be here soon. Thank you so much, Sarah.”

You could feel it coming within one second of the quiet hesitation that followed. 

“Lou, I just want to make sure…” 

Don’t ask. Please don’t ask. 

“Are you ok, honey?”

Fuck. 

Your face crumbled. Emotion clogged your throat. Tingles worked up your chest, behind your eyes, and you squeezed them shut to suffocate the tears. 

“Yeah,” you managed to tell her, your voice wavering with bullshit, “I just, um… I just need a few days. To get myself together, you know.” 

“Alright. Well, will you call me when you get there?”

“Yep,” you sniffled, “Talk to you then, bye.” 

Before she could respond, you returned the receiver to its cradle, ending the call, then took a moment to gather yourself before picking your toppled-over suitcase up off the ground and finding your bus.

The ride to Fresno was long. You spent most of it staring out the window, not really looking at anything in particular, just lost in your noisy head. 

At the Fresno Bus Station, you talked to three different cab drivers before finding one who agreed to bring you all the way out here. 

He made a few attempts at small talk, asking how your day was going and if you were on vacation and so on, but quickly picked up on your not-so-chatty vibes and let the cab go quiet. 

As he drove on, palm trees were replaced by threadbare ash trees, soon joined by evergreens. The hills became steeper. Swathes of rock broke through the earth’s soft surface, more and more with each mile. 

You asked him to stop in the town closest to your in-laws’ cabin. He kept the meter running while you bought a meager supply of groceries, figuring you only needed a few days worth, if that. 

Then the yellow taxi cab then drove deep into the forest, turning off on a low-maintenance dirt road that made the car jostle and rumble. 

When you came around a curve, and the mailbox labeled FRIEDMAN came into view, you instructed him to drop you off there. 

“Are you sure? I can take you down the driveway, no problem,” he insisted. 

You could have explained that the gravel driveway was in poor condition and you didn’t want him to break down or something. Imagine that. Drive a girl to the middle of a goddamn forest and wind up getting stuck out there. What a fucking nightmare. For both of you, really. 

“I’m sure,” you said, flashing him a weak smile as you handed him the remaining money from your wallet, “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he looked down at the bundle of cash, but he took it, giving you a nod of thanks. 

“Just, um…” you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged, looping plastic grocery bags around your wrists, “If anyone comes around asking if you saw me, could you maybe… maybe you could say no?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded again, studying you for a moment before turning to open his door, “Let me get your bag for you.” 

He pulled your shitty suitcase from the trunk and handed it to you. Before returning to the driver’s seat to begin his voyage home, he paused for a few seconds, then looked at you. 

“Excuse me for asking, ma’am, but are you… well, are you… safe? Do you need me to contact anyone?”

“No.” 

The word came out sharp and final. It felt harsh leaving your lips, so you added, “I mean, you don’t need to contact anyone. I am, uhhh… cool as a cucumber. Safe… as a lock. Thanks, though.” 

You tried your hardest to give him a reassuring smile. He didn’t look like he bought it, but got in his taxi and left. 

From here, you followed the driveway into a tunnel carved out from the trees. 

The air was crisp and clear and everything seemed quiet except for the sound of you huffing and puffing down the path, leaves crunching under your feet, plastic bags rustling, your suitcase flopping around behind you like a defiant animal on a leash, fighting against each step. 

Fucking exhausting. 

About halfway, you spotted a flat boulder peeking out from the earth a few strides into the forest. You dropped your suitcase, shaking the plastic bags from your wrists, and blundered through the trees towards it. Your rubber legs ached with relief when you sat down criss-cross applesauce on the cool stone. Catching your breath, you leaned back and tilted your face up towards the canopy. A breeze rattled through the pines and ashes and cooled your cheeks. 

You spent some time here, stretched out on the boulder, admiring the contrast of the dark, rheumatic branches stretched out towards the powder-blue sky. When your labored breathing calmed, the quiet sounds of the forest started to come into focus. Leaves rustling. Birds warbling. The whistle of wind.

It felt nice. 

Peaceful.

Eventually, you heaved yourself to your feet and resumed your journey. You walked and walked, legs and wrists and arms aching, body and mind sapped of energy, until the tree line opened up into a clearing. 

The cabin came into view, and a bone-deep sense of nostalgia struck you. 

You remembered the first time Ethan brought you here, the summer after you started dating. Everything seemed to pulse with life. The trees, glowing green with leaves. The roaring river in the background. Ethan. The future, in general. 

What’s the word for the kind of nostalgia that guts you? The kind that feels like a 30-pound weight in your stomach? The kind that shreds your heart to pieces in your chest? 

That’s exactly what you felt when you saw the cabin. 

It looked cold. Dead. 

The inside felt no different. Everything was dark. Cool, still air bit your cheeks. Canvas was draped over all the furniture. It smelled of dust and damp and better times. 

You dropped your belongings to the entryway floor, collapsing in a heap among them, then cried your eyes dry.

Once you gathered yourself, you found the phone to call Sarah. 

She walked you through the ins-and-outs of making the cabin habitable. How to turn the water back on and get the fireplace going. Gave you permission to use whatever you want or need… which, so far, is just some firewood, a quilt from the cedar linen closet, and this couch. 

You blink your bleary eyes a few times, before looking back to the window. The world outside has lightened. Frosted trees stand out in the rich, Neptunian veil of morning, every branch appearing lacy and crystalline, important and beautiful. 

Have I slept? Or did I sit here all night, staring into the abyss?

“Fuck it,” you sigh to yourself as you sit upright, “Might as well make some coffee.” 

Ding

The elevator doors slide open.

Dieter follows Parker onto the fifth floor hallway of your apartment building. 

As he walks down the familiar hallway like he has so many times before, a guttural, foreboding feeling builds in his veins. 

The sensation is unbelievably heavy, but hollow. Knight’s armor. A church bell. The barrel of a gun. 

It reminds Dieter of the first time he came here, when he sensed Ethan’s presence on the other side of that door. 

“Hopefully the landlord didn’t change the locks,” Parker says as he flips through his keychain, isolating one labeled LOU. The key slides in without protest. Parker pushes the door open and enters the apartment, Dieter hot on his heels.  

When Parker flips the light on, the state of your apartment makes Dieter’s stomach drop. 

Ransacked is the first word that comes to mind. 

Every drawer and cupboard in your kitchen sits ajar, their contents disorganized or spread across the countertop. The couch and chair cushions are all discombobulated. Dirt tracks dried into the white carpet trace the heavy flow of boots that moved in and out of the apartment. It looks like every surface of the place has been perverted. 

Dieter crouches down to set an overturned cubby upright, shoving a pile of your hats and scarves and gloves back into their rightful place, muttering, “Fucking pigs.”

A leopard print pattern catches his eye, and he plucks out a scarf, draping it around his neck before returning the container to its home. 

“Pigs is right,” Parker snorts, slamming closed cupboards and drawers, “This place is a fuckin’ stye. I’m glad she’s not here to see this.”

Dieter rubs the soft fabric between his fingers and brings it to his nose, inhaling your scent. A freshly-baked smell that prods his tender heart. He stands and starts towards the kitchen, but freezes when he notices the door to Ethan’s room is open. His eyes flick from Parker, totally preoccupied with reassembling the kitchen, then back to the doorway. 

Curiosity gnaws at his insides. 

He approaches it, trying to act casual despite his pounding heart. At the threshold, he pauses to peak inside, not entirely surprised to see the room exactly as he pictured it. 

Well, mostly, anyway. 

No file cabinet or deep freezer, but open spaces where he thought they’d be. Taken as evidence, probably. Empty file folders are strewn across the desk. But the navy blue walls, the hardwood floor, the mirrors… all there. 

That horrible, palpable emptiness, like loss on loss on loss… that’s there, too. 

He glances over his shoulder at Parker, still distracted, then looks back into the room. When he steps through the doorway, a rush of adrenaline spikes his pulse. 

Why are you here?

Dieter cautiously wanders over to the desk and starts picking up the empty file folders, halting when he finds a sketchpad beneath one. 

He flips through the book of abstract black-ink illustrations. Some of them scribbles, some exquisite, some in-between. All of them saturated with emotion. Hopelessness. Guilt. Anger. Grief. Frustration. Every time he turns a page, a new sensation strikes him. Shame. Resentment. Suspicion. A whole dictionary of dark emotions. 

Scattered throughout, though, he finds a few that feel… not lighter, per se, but different. They feature negative space and soft curves. Clean lines and chaos. Love. 

They’re you. 

Of course they’re you, love. Of course you were his light in the darkness. A brightness carved out of soot and rot. 

A fond smile creeps across his lips. 

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Dieter looks to one of the mirrors and asks, “Can I take this with me? To give to her?” 

Yeah, sure. 

“Thanks,” he nods and tucks the book into his coat pocket, glancing over his shoulder before quietly inquiring, “Any chance you know where she is?”

Not here.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter thinks. He jumps a little when he hears the response crystal clear in his head. 

Well then why the fuck’re you here? You’re wasting time. 

“Me? What about you? Didn’t you move on from this place?”

After this, Ethan goes quiet. 

Dieter shrugs and looks away from the mirror to study the framed photos on the wall. Photos of Ethan with, who Dieter assumes are, his kids. None of them recent. The vast majority of the pictures feature you. 

You and Ethan kissing on your wedding day. The two of you posing somewhere with mountains in the background, drinking on a beach, dancing at a party. Each one depicts big, genuine smiles. The adoration you had for each other is evident. 

As the successor to your heart, maybe he should feel a twinge of jealousy, but he doesn’t. He actually finds it sweet. It fills him with warmth to know you spent a long while being well-loved. 

The wall of photos displays relics from Ethan’s youth, too. 

Graduation photos, family vacations, a bar mitzvah. Dieter picks up on something. A distinct before and after. He stops on a picture of Ethan as a child, hugging a younger boy—his brother, Benji—by a lake, and it starts to come together. Although he can’t quite pinpoint the defining line, it splits him in two and fractures into shards. 

An icy cold rush overtakes his body, like the word gave out from under him and he’s suddenly submerged in freezing water. He can’t breathe. He can’t scream. Feral, panicked energy pulses through his veins. His concrete limbs can’t move, paralyzed as he sinks, deeper, deeper, deeper…

Dieter returns to himself with a jolt, gasping for air. 

He takes a step back and slumps over, pressing his palms into his knees as he pants, “What the fuck, man? What the fuck?” 

You need to find her before it’s too late. 

Red bubbles up his chest.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he sits up, jaw clenched, fists balled, and steps into the through-line of the mirrors. They reflect off one another to form a long, curved tunnel that stretches out on either side of him. Dieter looks from one mirror, to the other, seeing his image captured within each infinite layer. 

“Fuck you, man,” he seethes, shaking his head, “You fucking did this, you know that? Fucking piece of shit. I’m fucking trying, ok?” 

The last sentence comes out hoarse and thick. Heat works up his throat and his vision blurs with tears. 

“Whoa—hey, Dieter,” Parker runs into the room, all wide-eyed and searching Dieter’s face, “What’s wrong?” 

A sob heaves his shoulders. He hangs his head, shaking it from side-to-side, “I’m trying, Parker.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling Dieter into a hug, reassuring him, “We’re gonna find her.” 

“What if we don’t?”

“We will. Keep that faith, papi. We will.” 

Dieter buries his face in Parker’s bony shoulder, releasing the pent-up worry and guilt festering infectious in his chest for the past day. Parker pets his hair and rocks him back and forth, letting out a few of his own sniffles alongside Dieter’s. 

When their crying starts to peter out, Parker gives him one more squeeze and pulls back, asking, “You wanna get out of here? This place is a fucking mess, and we gotta catch that flight soon anyway.“

“Can I look in her room first?” 

Parker’s eyebrows knit together over bloodshot eyes, and he nods, patting his friend on the shoulder before stepping aside. 

Dieter approaches your bedroom cautiously. Paranoid thoughts circulate in his brain, all those what-ifs and delusions of tragedy. What if he finds you here, cold and lifeless? What if you’re dead somewhere while he pokes around your apartment, looking for clues? Is he doing enough? Could he do more? 

But when the door groans on its hinges as he pushes it open, and he sets foot inside your bedroom, the impending doom percolating in his veins drains from him almost instantly. Many of your things have been rifled through, like the rest of your apartment, but the place holds an air of serenity. 

It feels warm and safe. 

It feels like you. 

Flipping the light on, he closes the door behind him, then walks over to your bed and crawls under the covers, burying himself beneath them. 

The sheets still carry a faint whiff of sex and sleep from before the two of you embarked for LA. His lungs expand with a deep, wide breath. Eyes drifting closed, he thinks of you. How you’re feeling. Where you are. What you’re doing. 

He picks up the bite of a chilled breeze. The steady babble of a river. Warm hands. Burnt tongue. Coffee, bitter and black. 

The signal drops. 

Not much, but enough for him to know you’re not in immediate danger, which brings him some solace. 

Still under the blankets, he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings and rings until your voicemail picks up. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey doll, it’s me. I’m at your apartment. It’s a fucking mess. Parker and I stopped by before going back to LA. He’s coming with me to help… well, to help find you. Anyway. I’m in your bed. It still smells like us. It was hard for me to fall asleep last night without you. Waking up without you is… it’s hell. I don’t know. I miss you, Lua. It’s been one fucking day and I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anyone in my life. I love you. I’ll call you when I get back.” 

Despite your lack of sleep, you managed to make this morning a productive one. 

You removed the slip-cases from the furniture and dusted, then forced yourself to eat a halfway decent breakfast of buttered toast and scrambled eggs. After washing the dishes, you soaked in the tub for a while, staring up at the wood-paneled bathroom ceiling as you contemplated what to do with yourself, both in the short-term context and the long-term. 

While drying off, you noticed the bright, mid-day sun shining down into the valley, making everything glow golden. It looked inviting. 

You dug through your suitcase, sifting through the clothing you packed with a warmer climate in mind. Shorts. Dresses. Bikinis. The best you could do was a sweater and some pajama bottoms. 

Down by the riverbank, you found this creaky wooden porch swing and settled on which to sit and ponder. 

You smooth the tip of your finger along the dewy lip of the mug, breaking up a curl of steam with each lazy revolution around its circumference. 

Today is the shortest day of the year. 

The winter solstice. 

Every once in a while, wind rolls down off the snowy tips of the Sierra Nevadas and meets the warmth of the California sun. The creaky wooden bench sits square in the middle of these contradictory weather conditions. Hot and cold. Dry and damp. Constantly churning, waxing and waning from one state to another. 

A crisp gust of wind from upriver cuts through the sun-baked pocket of air where you’re seated. You huddle into your jacket and bring the steaming mug to your lips, hissing when the black coffee scorches your tongue. 

The thought of Dieter shoots through you like a bullet. 

You picture him beneath the covers of your bed, fully clothed in his furry winter jacket, wearing your scarf, eyes clenched shut, wishing you would come out of hiding because it’s safe now. 

It rattles you. 

An infinite number of memories and worries and hopes and what-ifs flood your mushy, sleep deprived brain. They all muddle together in an incomprehensible cluster fuck that sets your blood ablaze and makes your ears ring. Your body contracts, squeezing a sob from deep within your chest. 

Fuck. 

Every single ounce of you aches to see him. To smell him. To feel his arms wrapped around you and hear his voice murmuring honeyed affirmations in your ear, telling you he loves you and understands why you had to leave. 

You pray he understands that you didn’t want to. Of fucking course you didn’t want to. You had to. For his sake and for yours. 

During the FaceTime call with Parker, when you first saw the cops outside your building, then David Alterman, you could only see two paths forward: Dieter would choose you or his career. 

Would he have chosen you? Maybe, but it would have been foolish. 

He would have to support you through whatever punishment the state of New York has queued up against you—prison, probably—on top of dealing with the fallout. The public backlash, the halt of money flow, not to mention the loss of his career, which means more to him than public opinion or money. In his own words, acting is his fucking purpose in life. 

And for what? An incarcerated girlfriend? Even if you put the issue of your pending criminal charges aside, you still wouldn’t be worth that loss. 

It would be gradual, but eventually he would feel it. 

It sneaks. 

He would come to resent you, and you wouldn’t be able to fault him one bit. 

Would he have chosen his career? Maybe, but it would ruin you both. 

If he chose to break off your relationship in order to salvage his career, you would have to hear him say it. You would have to know, with certainty, that you take second place in his heart. Maybe this is a selfish notion, this desire to be his number one priority. If he didn’t choose his wife over his career, why the fuck would he choose you?

Not only that, but if he chose this path, he would have to shoulder the hardship of two broken hearts. You know he loves you. You do. Ending your relationship would devastate him. He would be plagued with guilt and shame and regret, all the same as if he chose you to begin with. 

It seemed cruel to force him to make this impossible choice. No matter what he did, it would be wrong, and he would carry the burden.

This is when you saw the third path branch out before you. 

The one where you could sneak out before the sun rises, dragging your monster by its tether behind you. Where you could lock yourself away in a boarded-up room and wait for her to take you. You, not him. 

You would rather absorb the blame, from him and everyone else, a million times over than curse him with the responsibility of this dissolution.  

This is a mercy kill. 

An act of love. 

It may not seem like it to anyone else, but really, it is. 

This thought brings you some solace. 

Another gust of wind blows shivers down your spine. You bring the mug to your lips to test the coffee’s temperature, finding it tepid, but drink it anyway. 

Dieter wasn’t sure what to expect when he came home. 

Worst case scenario, he imagined cops waiting to arrest him for bribing an elected official or tell him you turned up dead. Best case, he imagined opening the door to find you there. Problem solved. Happily ever after. He would kiss you breathless and never let you doubt your station in his life again. 

What was most likely, though—and what he found—was something in the wide gray area between his paranoia and hopeless romanticism. 

Lincoln was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through TikTok on his phone, while Darlene sat at the dining room table, typing away on her laptop. 

Although he tried to keep an open mind the whole way here, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Here he was, exhaustion burning his bones to dust, expecting some kind of a celebration, only to find out this was a checkpoint, not a finish line. 

Lincoln and Darlene both perk up at the sound of the door opening. They both rise from their respective places to greet Dieter and Parker. 

“Hey, welcome back!” Lincoln calls as he grabs Dieter’s suitcase, “How was your flight?”

“Fine,” he grunts, then nods to Parker, “This is Parker. Parker, this is my PA Lincoln and my publicist Darlene.” 

“Former publicist,” Darlene corrects, shaking Parker’s hand, “Nice to meet you.” 

Parker gives her a polite smile and a nod to her and Lincoln and tells them, “Thanks for your help.” 

“Want me to take your suitcase?” Lincoln asks Parker, dark blonde eye brows raised in expectation. 

“I’ve got it, love,” Parker waves him off with a dismissive hand, then turns to Dieter, “Where do you want me?” 

Before he can answer, Lincoln cuts in, “Here, I’ll show you to the open guest room.” 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Parker’s mouth. He shrugs, “Lead the way, pretty boy.” 

Even in the dim illumination of the waning daylight, Dieter sees Lincoln’s cheeks flush pink. He grins and starts off down the hall. Before following, Parker looks at Dieter, raising a mischievous brow as he glances between him and Lincoln, mouthing, “Cute.” 

“Any updates?” Dieter asks Darlene as he slides off his crocs and starts towards the kitchen. 

“Well,” she sighs, crossing her arms, tilting her head to one side, “There has been progress.” 

The way she says it sounds like the beginning of bad news. He pauses his search for food and frowns at her. Static rises in his throat. 

“And?”

She walks to the dining room table to grab her notebook, flipping back a few pages as she approaches the kitchen island and leans against it. 

“So, I was able to trace her steps to a transit station in Fresno. I went up there yesterday and talked to security. Found out she took a cab from there, but the cab company won’t disclose where they dropped her. The driver reported that she seemed… off. Said she seemed scared and was very secretive, like she was in danger or something. He thought maybe she was running from a domestic abuse situation, and requested that the company not disclose her location.” 

Dieter gapes at this, unable to formulate words. She continues. 

“She talked a few other cab drivers before this one, so I talked to them. They told me she didn’t give them an address, just said it was about sixty miles away, up in the foothills. But that’s… that’s all I was able to get. The trail runs cold there.” 

“Can’t we throw some cash at the cabbie who drove her? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it, I don’t care—” 

“I tried,” she shook her head, throwing her hands up at her sides, “I told them to name their price, they said it wasn’t about money, it was about safety.” 

Heat spikes his blood, overwhelming him with nervous energy that sets him into motion, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his neck, clenching his jaw. 

“What the fuck do we do now?”

“Do you know if she has any family or friends in that area? Maybe she mentioned something in passing—” 

“No, of course she didn’t,” he scoffs. 

Darlene doesn’t say anything. Her hazel eyes follow him from side-to-side. 

“I know her family is from Ohio, her friends are from New York. Anything else is a fucking mystery to me,” he shakes his head and stops pacing to holler, “PARKER, get in here!”

A few seconds later, he hears footfalls in the hallway, then Parker rounds the corner, blinking at him, “I know you didn’t just call for me like a fuckin’ dog.”

“Does Lua know anyone out by Fresno? In the mountains?” Darlene asks him. 

Parker frowns as he thinks about this, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Distant relatives, old friends,” Darlene glances at Dieter, “Exes, anything like that?”

Dieter glares at her, nostrils flaring, to which she defends, “We have to cast a wide net, I’m just asking.” 

Parker shakes his head again, “No. 

“What about Ethan’s family?” 

His face stays fixed in a searching expression. No glint of recognition. 

Dieter’s shoulders slump. 

Parker looks at him, brows knit together with concern, and adds, “But honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted, I might not be remembering right now.” 

They sit there for a moment, dull and disenchanted, until Darlene sighs, “Well, should we order some takeout?”

By late afternoon, the sun starts to sink down into the ragged black tree line of the far away mountains. 

Rays of light catch the atmosphere just right, casting a shimmering golden hue onto the cabin. One of these beautiful glowing beams streams through the window and manages to hit you square in the eyeballs. 

Grimacing, you flip your book belly-down onto the end table and push yourself up into a sitting position. A yawn expands your lungs. You stretch your arms above your head, then let them fall limp at your sides. 

Charred logs glow inside the fireplace. No flames. You rise to your feet and trudge over to it, swinging the grate open to slide a few more logs on the fire. They sizzle and pop as they catch heat and light ablaze. 

You look around the cozy, rustic living room, glancing at the clock on the wall, then out the window. 

Earlier today, while poking around the cabin for something interesting to take your mind off… Well, everything, you stumbled upon a small stash of homemade wine. A glass–maybe a bottle–sounds nice right now. Maybe you could make some food, too. Probably should. 

You pad across the dark lacquered floorboards to the cellar door, and push it open. Wrinkling your nose at the mildew scent, you flip the lightswitch on and tip-toe down the stairs, then across the room to the wine rack. One-by-one, you pull out the corked green glass bottles and take note of their year. A few are labeled Plum 2017. Two Strawberry 2018s. Half a dozen Red 2018s. 

One of the bottles reads White 2017. A fond smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You slip the bottle under your arm before jogging up the stairs to the main level, where you sift through Sarah’s record collection. A Frank Sinatra album catches your eye, so you put it on, then pour a glass of wine and survey your limited options for supper. 

A part of you wants to say fuck it, skip the meal. Just let your empty stomach soak up the wine. Let the tiny tendrils of alcohol branch out into your bloodstream and work its numbing magic. Maybe it’ll dim the acute pain simmering beneath your sternum. 

Then you spot the lemon on the counter, sitting beside a bulb of garlic and a blue mesh bag of onions. 

There’s pasta and olive oil in the cabinet. Parmesan in the fridge. You could make something nice with that. Maybe watch the sunset. 

I could do it tonight.

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the first time you saw him. Shifty and slightly arrogant, all blown-out pupils and twitches. Basically a red flag wearing a human suit. You thought he was handsome, though. And his booming laughter brought a real smile to your face for the first time in weeks. 

It felt familiar. 

It felt like sunshine kissing your skin after a long bout of darkness. 

Shaking the picture from your head, you start rummaging through the cupboards for a pot and saucepan. You fill the pot with water, toss in some salt. 

When you pull the chef’s knife from the butcher block, you pause to examine the blade in the golden hour light. 

I could slice my pulse open. 

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the second time you met him. Kaleidoscope skin and chartreuse aura. Acid stripped away the cocaine ego to expose his bare bones. And they were beautiful. 

Something happened that night. A tethering. A melding. Some ethereal otherworldly connection that intertwined your souls. 

Even though he was essentially a stranger, you couldn’t shake the sense that he had always been and always would be a part of you. 

Swallowing around the emotion welling up in your throat, you shake your head. Too messy. 

The thought of your own blood makes you queasy. If some has to find you like that? 

Fuck.  

Your stomach twists into nausea. 

You set down the knife and find a cutting board, then resume your dinner preparation, singing along to the music, concentrating on the mechanical motion of the blade tearing through the onion, meeting resistance with each aromatic layer. 

The goddamn knife is dull anyway. 

After mincing the garlic, you nudge your little piles of chopped-up produce into the gleaming pool of melted butter in the saucepan. Steam rises with a gentle sizzle, moisture meeting fat. 

Inside the pot, tiny ripe bubbles line the underwater walls, waiting to burst. 

Turn up the heat. 

Stir the saucepan. 

Sip your wine. 

You tap your fingers on the countertop, following the beat of the brass band, and quietly sing along with Ol’ Blue Eyes, “No one would care, no one would cry. If I should live, if I should live or die. What now, my love? Now there is nothing. Only my last, my last goodbye.” 

You picture Dieter at the beach, holding your hand as the two of you waded through the tide. The best day of your life. 

You picture him in his boxers, watering his plants. You picture his warm brown eyes flicking between you and a sketchpad. Him taking the first bite of a gooey brownie and groaning with delight. Laying behind you in the bathtub, arms wrapped around your waist underwater, planting a soft kiss on your cheek bone. Waking up in the morning, his wild dark curls all bent the shape of his pillow indent, a wistful, sleepy smirk on his lips. Laughing. Smiling. Telling you he loves you. Meaning it. 

A deep ache of shame spreads across your chest. Your stomach churns. Tears burn behind your eyes, then spill over, streaming hot down your cheeks. 

How fucking stupid are you to think the darkness wouldn’t come and swallow everything whole, Dieter included? 

What, because you’re in love, the two of you should be spared? 

Has that ever stopped her before? 

I should fucking know better. 

A far-off, high frequency noise starts in your ear and it cuts audio for a second. Everything around you seems far away. Not real. You feel spectral, like you’re dreaming or a ghost or in a tv show or something. 

Entirely fiction. 

Sniffling, you wipe your damp with the sleeve of your sweater. 

You grab the wine glass off the counter and swallow its contents, then refill it, splashing a little vino into the saucepan before setting the bottle aside. 

A roar swells as the ingredients get to know each other. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, pungent scent, then notice steam billowing off the water in your pot. The still surface has erupted into a consistent boil. You throw about half of a pound of fettuccine into the pot. More than enough, but who the fuck makes only one serving of pasta? 

While the fettuccine cooks, you pour some cream into the saucepan, then whisk and whisk and whisk, pausing periodically to stir the pasta. Once the sauce thickens,  you whisk in pre-grated parmesan a pinch at a time. You fish a strand of fettuccine out of the boiling water and confirm its al dente status, then transfer a few spoonfuls of pasta water into the sauce before pouring the pot over a colander in the sink. 

It calms you, this process. The step-by-step. Seeing the fruits of your labor unfold in real time. Each checkbox marked calms your ragged nerves more than the last. 

Before you know it, you’re curled up in an adirondack chair on the deck, quilt draped over your shoulders, twisting fettuccine around your fork as you watch the sun sink down into the mountains, turning the sky into this beautiful vivid watercolor. It’s fucking gorgeous, you’ll give it that. 

Am I really going to go through with this? 

That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? To end this? To ascend into that glowing iridescent tunnel? To cross the threshold and finally return to the sea of love?

It’s funny, you think, how your whole life you were afraid of dying because you didn’t know what came after. 

But after seeing it, you know you had it completely backwards. 

Death is a piece of cake. You weren’t scared once when it happened. It’s like the light turned on in your room and you knew there was nothing hiding in wait. Nothing sneaking. 

Life, though? 

Life is scrambling through the darkness of uncertainty, trying to find a beacon. When you make contact with them, you cling to flames, hoping they’ll burn forever to keep you safe and warm. They won’t. They always burn out. 

By the time you finish your pasta, the wine has fully assimilated into your bloodstream, drowning all the excess noise in your head. You polish off the bottle while watching the sun sink down into the Sierra Nevadas. Dusk absorbs the light. The atmosphere shifts from midnight blue to inky black, enveloping you in darkness. It doesn’t even bother you. 

Head swimming with wine, you lay out on the cold deck and stare up at the nighttime sky, littered with dazzling pinprick stars. 

They remind you of all the times you stargazed with your father, and the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars Ethan hung on the ceiling of the first bedroom you shared with him. 

They remind you of how incredibly vast the darkness is. 

How the hopeful glimmer of a star can appear so bright and so close, but really be lightyears away, in another galaxy, another life. 

Maybe the next one. 

[ Next Chapter ]