#so that's a big reason of why it took so long. i was tryin to do everything with sat brightness and contrast for the most part before i

[kenobihater]

finished my edit and rewatched it after exporting. i then decided the excessively blue cgi bridge jump (derogatory) was pissing me off SO much that i went back and fixed its god awful filter as much as i could without making the compression obvious. then i color graded the whole vid as well which took an hour bc i'm indecisive and ignorant 🤡🤡 at least the blood and explosions look better, and i don't want to gouge my eyes out as much watching the jump (i adore this movie and everyone who worked on it but girl this isn't the blue man group...)

[shhh-secret-time]

Another request from A03! I am so very sorry this one took so long I actually had to start this one over a few times because I actually lost a big chunk of it when I first started writing it! Nothing takes the wind out of my sails faster.

Warning: NSFW, Dom!Stan, Sub!Reader, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Writer doesn't know shit about college or sports ball, Slight Voyeurism, Strong Language, Stan might be a little OOC

Pairing: Stan x Fem!Reader

Notes: Hey uh welcome to this week's episode of, "Writer don't know how to write conflict to save her life!" I'm very bad at coming up with a reason to fight people, it's not in my nature so I'm sorry if it seems forced!

You hated Stan Marsh

You hated him and most of the football players at your university. Them and their spotlight hogging, annoying, disgusting, sweaty, irritating habits! You and your girls bust your ass off at every practice, sports game, and pep rally South Park University places on your teams’ shoulders, and what do you get for it?

To hear things like, "Oooooh did you see how Cartman played center?" or "Clyde is so hot when he takes his helmet off and has that messy hair!" even, "Kyle plays football AND basketball with perfect grades? Why is he soooo perfect!"

But the one that got under your skin the most was Stanely fucking Marsh, the star quarterback. The man walks around the school with his little crowd of admirers everywhere he went, and for what? Just because he throws a stupid ball around and can run quick? Fuck him.

Your girls put in twice the work they do; you've been to every one of their games. You had to. Your group had to coordinate with the football players, the basketball players, the volleyball team, the hockey team, hell you even had to coordinate with the wrestling team. It was exhausting trying to keep up with it all.

And what did your cheer squad get? Perverted remarks and dismissive attitudes! The final straw was when the Cows mascot got more respect than your group did. You brought your complaints up to the school's councilor, to the headmaster, to anyone who would listen.

Word travels fast around the small town of South Park, people dating and breaking up. Who cheated on who, who's throwing the best parties, who threw up in who's car. Shit like that. Not much changes from high school to college, just a lot less sneaking around and more energy drinks and pain meds. So of course, when your complaints got to the one and only Stan Marsh, he confronted you about it.

"Hey! Hey wait up!" His voice rings out past the busy sounds of other students trying to get to their classes. "You're the captain of the cheer squad, right?" He all but corners you while you're walking with your friends, he doesn't have his little squad of goons following him around.

"Are you serious?" How could he not know who you are?! You've only been to every one of his stupid games! Only been sitting on the sidelines of every practice! "Yes! I am! What do you want?!"

Stan flinched back at the venom in your voice but that didn't stop him from shooting you a look. "Uh...did I do something wrong? I heard from one of the guys that you're not exactly...happy and I was just trying to figure out what we did."

"What you did. What did he do girls? Can anyone answer Mr. Marsh's question~?" The tone in your voice did not match the smile on your face. It sounded chipper but anyone listening could tell it was fake.

Your little group always had your back, most of them felt the same way you did. If anything, it just amplified that anger, knowing your girls were feeling underappreciated. It was your job as the captain to protect your girls, but every time you brought it up to them, they seemed to shy away from saying anything.

"Well, geez Stan, you gotta admit your team's been kinda hoggin' the spotlight. You know what I'm tryin' ta say don't ya?" It wasn't just your girls you had to protect; it was your sweet little angel Butters too. Although you guys called him by his first name when cheering with him, he was Leo to you. And right now, Leo was trying to bridge the gap between you and your rival.

"Veeery good Leo! That's right, Stan and his team don't seem to give a shit how hard we work to cheer his team on! The whole school would rather worship the ground their star quarterback walks on!"

"The school doesn't worship the ground I walk on! You can't pin this on me!" Stan shot back trying to defend himself, it was hard not to feel attacked even though you were the only one glaring at him.

A part of you knew that he was right, it really wasn't his fault that small towns in America went crazy for football.

"W-we're not pinnin' anything on ya! Just sayin' maybe, it wouldn't hurt to tell the guys to show us a little bit more respect! You know Eric's been pickin' on me ever since I joined the girls, sayin' some awfully mean things."

"Leo is right! You may not have a hand in the way people think but that's just the problem, you don't do anything to stop it! If you were really the captain of your little team you'd step up!" You took a step towards him, your face getting inches away from his face.

Ignoring the fact that you had to look up at him, you wouldn't let him leave without getting your point across. His eyes narrowed down at you, matching the energy you were giving out to him. Butters looked between the both of you with a nervous look, he could practically see the electricity bouncing between your eyes. The poor blond didn't mean to start a fight, he was just trying to help.

"If you had a problem with my team, you should have come to me then. Why did I have to find out from other people?" Stan's voice dipped to a low growl which almost made you give one in return.

"I shouldn't have had to go to anyone in the first place Marsh! Get your team under control or else!" You felt your face turn red; it was getting harder to argue with him when those ocean blue eyes were burning into yours.

That was new. Just going to lock that in your vault of things to not think about again.

Thankfully Butters finally stepped in, physically putting his body between the both of you. "C-come on now guys let’s all just calm down. We both said our peace and now we can work it out, right? Next time we practice we can be on the same page!"

"Sure Butters." Stan clicked his tongue as he looked at his friend, but that didn't stop him from getting one last jab in. "You better hope you don't slip up princess, because if you do. I'll be there and I'll be quick to remind you of your shortcomings." And with that he turned on his heel and started walking down the hallways.

"Princess?! Excuse me?!"

"Oh geez..."

Stan slammed his locker with a little more force than he should have, the rusty door screamed out and bounced back open. With an annoyed groan he pushed back on the metal with a little less force, but the damage was already done, the door was now on its last leg and would most likely not shut right. Just more fuel to the fire.

"Whoa dude what did that poor locker do to you? Don't you think it's been through enough." Kenny looked over from his locker with a little smirk.

One of the few times Kenny was without his parka, a towel wrapped around his waist and his bright blond hair clung to his skin. Stan could smell the smell of fresh soap and hints of pine in the air. He sighed in response to Kenny's teasing, clearly not in the mood for his friend's antics.

"Not now man, I don't have the energy." Stan grabbed his jacket and pulled it up onto his torso.

"Ah that's not good, wanna tell your old pal Kenny? I won't even charge ya, come on what's going on."

Stan pressed his lips together and he tried to focus on zipping up the worn-out brown coat he always wore, the zipper struggled to hold together. He cursed under his breath a few times before the thing finally zipped all the way up. For a moment Stan thought about not saying anything, but Kenny was never the type to judge or the type to let things go if he knew something was bothering his friends.

"You know the captain of the cheerleaders?"

"The really hot one?"

"Kenny!" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, something he picked up from his mother when they were both aggravated, "That's not the point."

"Says you. She's a baddy for real. Take no shit kinda woman~! The feisty ones are the ones that bite the hardest. You got your work cut out for you if you're trying to shoot your shot. I heard she turned down everyone else on the team!"

"Dude! I'm not gonna ask her out!"

"You're not? Then why'd you bring her up? Is this about the fight you guys had in the hall?"

Stan stopped and looked up at him in shock. "You heard about that already?"

"Oh yeah, you guys's are the talk of the school. Everyone thinks you guys had a little lovers spat. I had to hear the whole story from Leo!" Kenny chuckled as he grabbed started getting changed, pulling the patchy orange pants up his legs.

"Even you're calling him Leo now..." Stan muttered but quickly shook his head, "but that's not what I was going to say! I was going to...talk about that but if you already know."

"Yeah, I don't really know what that's all about but Leo kinda spelled it out for me. She's not mad at you per say just mad at the position you're in. A jealousy thing maybe but honestly, I think she's just tired of taking the back seat so to speak."

"What am I supposed to do about that? It's not my fault!" Stan threw his hands up the irritation on face made Kenny laugh again.

"I didn't say it was dude. I'm just telling you what I think, but man, she really got under your skin." Kenny smirks over at him with a playful purr.

"No, she didn't! I don't even care."

"Yep, that totally looks like the face that doesn't care~" Kenny pulled his zipper up and adjusted the collar as he spoke. "Look, let’s pretend for a second you do care. If I were you, I'd just talk to her. Ask her what you can do to make things right, because I'll be honest man, she's the last person you wanna make an enemy of. She'll make your life hell." Kenny finished making his point by wrapping his arm around Stan's neck and pulling him in for a side hug. "Besides, it's not like you have to work close with her, just work around her."

"Yeah..."

But of course, it could never be that simple, could it? Every time Stan tried to catch you to talk to you something got in his way. Monday you were busy with your classes zipping around the hall, Stan could barely get a word in. Tuesday you had to help Butters with his outfit so of course you didn't have time for him. Wednesday was the big pep rally for Friday's game, so that meant Thursday was for practice.

Thursday was hell. Stan was supposed to be focused on getting his team ready for the game. They were practicing dodging other players and passing the ball across the field. Stan was supposed to be working on his throw, he needed the ball to go further than normal. Kyle was getting faster at running and if Stan fell behind their whole strategy would be thrown out the window.

But of course, you couldn't make it easy. It was getting harder and harder to focus on what he needed to do when you were being tossed in the air. The way your dark green and gold skirt caught the sunlight, and the way the puffy looking poms in your hands shook back and forth. Stan knew he was in trouble when he stopped paying attention for a moment when you laughed at something Annie said. Next thing he knew he felt the football knock him on the side of the head. And of course, that's when you looked over, he felt his face heat up when you giggled and covered your mouth.

He hated you. Hated your pretty smile, the way you laughed made his blood boil and his body turn hot. Your stupid lips curled into a gorgeous smile and the way your thighs looked good enough to sink his teeth into, what he'd give to walk over and kiss that smug look off your-

Stan let out a growl that came from deep in his chest as he threw the ball down the field hitting Kyle in the chest. The poor red head just took it, letting out a grunt as it managed to get past the gear meant to keep him safe. He wouldn't let his mind wonder there, not for you. Not when you're the one who attacked him and then started avoiding him every chance you got.

"Marsh!" He winced when he heard Coach Miles below his name, he didn't need to see his face to know he was in trouble.

With a sigh he took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy black hair, the helmet causing his hair to stick up. As he walked over, he could feel your eyes on him, and all he could do was scowl. Trying not to think about how you must be eating this up.

Stan's scowl dropped when he heard the coach call your last name and gesture for you to come over. Your eyes widened at the way the coach called for you, you'd never heard him so angry at you before. You gave your poms to Wendy as you ran over, walking behind him as he gestured for you and Stan to follow him.

Coach Miles took you both back inside through the gym, once the three of you were alone, he crossed his arms and glared down at you both. "So, the big game is tomorrow and some of the students have come to be with worries about the way you two were at each other’s throats." He paused for only a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let me make something very clear, we are not in high school anymore. So whatever problem you two have with each other, fix it. You’re adults, act like them."

"I've tried! She doesn't want to work this out!" Stan's mouth moved before he thought about the consequences, but he was just so tired of this whole thing. Even if he agreed with his Coach, this whole situation had him at the end of his rope.

"What?! No, you didn't! You just bitched to Kenny-"

"I didn't bitch! I was asking for advice!" Stan stopped and glared over at you again, it seems like that's the only look he gave you nowadays. "I tried to talk to you in the halls and you blew me off!" How did you even know about he talked to Kenny anyway?!

Fucking Butters.

"I told you what my problem was with you Marsh!"

"No, you didn't! All you did was-"

"Enough!" The Coach's voice boomed over your little squabble and echoed off the gymnasium walls. "I was hoping you two would be mature enough that I didn't have to do this, but I guess I was wrong."

You and Stan watched as Coach Miles stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a folded-up piece of paper. Unfolding it, he handed it to you and huffed. It was a warning slip, something he never gave out to you or Stan. "So, unless you both figure this out, you're both benched. Off the field and you can watch the rest of the students play without you."

"What?!" Your voices came out in unison, shocked at the very thought of not getting to be a part of tomorrows big game.

"I mean it! Figure yourselves out or you're out! I can have McCormick take your spot Marsh and Testaburger has plenty of experience leading!"

"But Coach-"

"No! I shouldn't have had to do this in the first place! I'm not your dad, I'm not your counselor, I'm a Coach! You both are lucky I'm even giving you a second chance! You have until tomorrow." Every word that came out of Coach Miles's mouth pierced like a sword.

You flinched and pulled back just as Stan did each time, he emphasized his frustration. It was a verbal lashing unlike one you've ever gotten, and you were grateful when he turned and left. You weren't sure if you could take much more.

An uncomfortable silence fell over you and Stan as you both just stood there. The slight buzzing sound of the fans overhead and Stan's deep breaths were all you could hear. Each time he inhaled through his nose he would exhale through his mouth, but it didn't look like it was actually doing anything to calm him.

You've heard when Stan got yelled at by Coach Miles, and not once did he look this angry. Your eyes trailed down his jawline watching as he started grinding his teeth together, the look on his face said it all. He was holding something back, he looked like a lit fuse ready to blow. You didn't know if that anger was at you, the Coach, the situation, or all the above. But a part of you really wanted to find out, and Miles did tell you to work it out.

"So... you wanted to talk. I'm here."

Stan's head snapped over towards you, the look on his face was a mix of anger and bewilderment. Shocked that you would break the silence like that. He felt his stomach churn, a feeling he hasn't felt since he was a kid.

It always felt like he was on a roller-coaster going too fast, that fluttering feeling one would feel when the ride would hit that high and then dropped to that low. Only this time it felt like the pit of his stomach was also on fire, his stomach was a cauldron ready to boil over. As he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out, he just let his mouth hang open for a second and then he shut it again. He was holding back still.

You rolled your eyes and jut your hip out, arms crossing under your chest. "Just say it. I know you want to yell, so yell. I'm a big girl I can take whatever you could possibly throw at me."

When Stan didn't respond but instead walked towards you, your arms dropped, and you took a step back. So caught up in the dark blues of his eye you barely registered when your back hit the wall, it wasn't until you realized he had you backed into a corner that you grasped the situation you were in. He slammed his arm over your head making your heart leap in your chest, and your hands come up in defensively.

You weren't scared that he was going to hurt you, you never got that from Stan, he never seemed like that type. But the way he looked down at you made your heart speed up and a shiver run down your spine. Never had you felt like a rabbit trapped in a pen with a wolf. Something about that excited you.

"What are you doing-"

"Shut.up." Stan's voice dips an octave as he whispers out the command.

The gravel in his voice is cut by the way he slams his lips down onto yours. You have just enough time to push back into the kiss when he pulls away and continues. "You...have made my life.... fucking hell...this entire week!" His complaints almost falls on deaf ears from the way he's kissing you in between them. "I don't know why I get so.... worked up with you!" He emphasizes the last part by grabbing your jaw and forcing your face up towards him.

It's only been a week and you've already got him wrapped around your finger, so tightly wound up that he was beginning to snap. And maybe you were wrapped around his, the smirk on your face was short lived when he bit your bottom lip. A small gasp escaping your lips giving him enough of an opening to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan against his lips and grip the front of his jersey by the collar. If he wanted to get handsy you could get handsy. You pulled him down into the kiss somehow deepening it further.

Your tongues push back and forth against each other, neither giving way to the other. His tongue was relentless but so was yours. It wasn't until you felt a bit of drool dripping down the side of your mouth did it click. You were making out with, what you thought, was the biggest asshole on campus. Yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't pull away from his hold on you.

On the other side of things, Stan's mind was going blank. With every twist of your tongue and lips he felt himself getting addicted. Hungry lips moving from yours to devour the soft flesh of your neck. He bites down with enough force to pull a cry from you and to leave a mark. Right where your shoulder meets your neck, teeth marks bright and red poked out of your cheerleading uniform.

"You fucking ass! That's going to leave a mark!" You hiss at him, but it just turns to another moan as he sucks on the patch of skin near your collarbone.

"Good!" He growls back coming off your skin with a pop. "I have tried all week to work with you! All fucking week to work with your bitchy attitude!"

"My attitude?! Fuck you! I was trying-"

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He cuts you off with a smirk, one that would give the devil a run for his money.

"What?!" You white knuckle his jersey with both hands now.

"You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid." His hands reach down to the back of your thighs, cupping them as he lifts you up and slams you back into the wall. Not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of the predicament you're in.

"Says the man who had his tongue down my throat!" Predicament be damned. He would not win this fight just because he slots himself between your legs and pushes his arousal against your thigh.

Those football pants left nothing for the imagination, the thought of leaving him with that hard on in those pants crossed your mind for a moment. But when he rolled his hips against your clothed sex you had to focus on biting back the moan instead.

"It shut you up, didn't it? You didn't seem to want me to stop when you were moaning against me."

You glared down at him and ran your fingers through his hair, giving the roots a firm tug; you smirked when he moaned. His face turned red making him lunge forward and bite your neck again. Your nails dug into his scalp which only seemed to encourage him to leave marks.

"Just shut the fuck up and...and fuck me already!" You tried to keep the moan out of your voice, but when he found that soft spot on your neck it just turned into a whimper.

That smug bastard lips turned up into a smirk, he pulls back just long enough to take a look around the gym. All he could hear was you panting heavily trying to catch your breath and the same dull fan buzzing. He looked down at you for a moment and for a second you thought he'd pull away. That he'd come to his senses and realize that maybe this wasn't exactly what the Coach meant.

But he didn't. Instead, he pulls your face back up for another kiss, this one was a lot less angry. There was still that heat behind each press of his lips, but it was more controlled, not like when he was trying to get you to stop talking. He presses his forehead against yours for a moment, the sweat from practice earlier dripping down his neck, it would almost be sweet if the situation leading up to it didn't happen.

"We have to be quick."

"Here?! Are you out of your mind, what if we get caught!?"

"Would you just let me-" You feel him move you to his forearm, where he pins you between the wall and his body. "You've got me so worked up! I don't know why I find your endless complaining and bitching so hot!" The confession spilled out of his mouth once again without a second thought as his hands move up your skirt.

His hands grope and squeeze at your thighs and then your ass pulling another sweet moan from your lips. "Don't act like you're free from it! You like to think you're sooooo much better than me but you're just like me!"

"I know!" He grunts as he pushes your underwear to the side making you shiver when the cold air hits your cunt.

Stan watches as your eyes flutter shut when he slams his fingers into your wet hole, his fingers coated with your sweet juices. He licks his lips when your mouth hangs open and a shaky gasp is pulled from you. "Look at you already so fucking wet for me. I thought you hated me huh?"

"Sh... shit. I-I do hate you!" Your weak attempt to bite back fall short when he curls his finger in you, slamming his fingers in and out of you.

His lips ghost over yours as he buries himself to the knuckle in your pretty cunt. He watches as you suck his fingers in further and further. The sounds you're making makes his cock throb in his pants, straining against the white material. "Yeah? Doesn't feel like you hate me. You were ordering me to fuck you earlier."

"I-I... oh fuck! Harder!"

Stan smirks down at you and there's no comment this time. How can he when you look so damn sweet, nails digging into his shoulders clinging to him for dear life. He stops his fingers and glares down at you. "Say please."

"B-bite me."

He does. He leans down and bites down on the tip of your ear, his husky voice laced with danger. "I'm not moving my fingers from your cunt until I get a please."

"G-God damn it Stan j-just.... ugh please! Please go harder!"

For a moment he looks up like he's thinking about it, pondering whether he should or not. You could have smacked that smug look off his face but when his fingers drill deeper into you all you can do is throw your head back. As if it wasn't enough, he finds that perfect spot, making you clench around his digits.

"Fuck you look so good when you're like this. You gonna cum around my fingers princess? Go ahead, let me feel you clench around them." He talks you through your orgasm with a steady tone, making you lull your head to the side as you reach your climax.

His fingers stay buried in you for a bit before he pulls them out, you almost whimper at the loss of them. But it was cut short when he wrapped his lips around his fingers. Sucking the slick off his digit while keeping eye contact with you. The telltale sign of a blush crept up your neck and across your face when he removed his index finger from his mouth.

"You're so gross..."

"Whatever." He clicked his tongue at your comment, even after he pulled an orgasm out of you; you still had something to say. His hands move across your ass again giving the flesh a firm squeeze. You slapped his shoulder when he chuckled at your little squeak. "Hmm~ I liked you begging. Let’s see if I can't get more of that out of you."

He moves his hands down to his pants and slips them down to his thighs. He fumbles for a moment with his boxers before he just decides to give up and pull his cock through the flap. He did say this needed to be quick and he already wasted time fingering you against the gym wall. Not that he regretted it, he had half a mind to do it again, but if the precum leaking out of the slit of his cock was anything to go by he need release soon.

Stan glides his cock against your folds a few times, coating his cock in your arousal, his breath hitches when you roll your hips back. When his eyes meet yours again his knees almost buckle under the weight of your lustful gaze. The way your eyelids lower and your mouth falls open again with each drag of his cock. He takes the base of his member and slaps it against your cunt a few times. "Come on princess, tell me you want this. Tell me you don't really hate me."

"I...." You trail off, letting your stubborn attitude take over but Stan isn't making it easy. Each passing second you don't answer him he nudges the tip of his cock in your entrance, not quite pushing in to give you that pleasure. "I hate that I like it that you call me that! I hate the way my heart speeds up when you kiss me! I hate that I like you!" Your words roll off your tongue like a confession, the way you throw your head back the frustration growing in your tone.

Stan growls again, that sound being pulled out of him more times today than his entire life, but he can't resist you. It's like he's a puppet and you're holding all the strings. His hands come up to your hips and guide you down the length of his cock just as your legs wrap around his waist. The muscles in your legs keep him in place making his cock throb again, you feel it bob against your walls.

"You have...no fucking idea...how much I've wanted this! Every time you got thrown in the air-" He lets out a shaky moan as he pulls you off his cock and slides you right back down. "Every... every time you giggled and flashed that perfect smile." Stan nuzzled into the crook of your neck while his hips begin to find the perfect rhythm. "Everything about you is perfect and I fucking hate it!"

Stan's little burst of irritation comes out from the way he begins picking up speed. You cling onto him as he continues piercing up into you, your arms wrapping around his neck to try as your back slides up and down against the wall. "Oh god Stan!"

"Listen to yourself. Calling my name like that, you drive me crazy! I'm not going to be able to stop. You gonna let me cum in you? I don't wanna stain that pretty uniform of yours." The way he's moaning out your name in between breaths makes your stomach do flips.

You can't find the strength to answer so you settle for nodding and moaning his name. He doesn't say anything else besides the occasional cursing and small grunts, so focused on bullying your insides. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten until the knot starts to snap. Your walls grip his cock as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your voice has gone hoarse from moaning and screaming his name. He feels his cock twitch when he sees you climax around him, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. The way your mouth hangs open, lips slightly swollen from how hard you kissed him. The way your hair was out of place and the way your uniform was messed up from how hard he was thrusting into you.

"Fuck...I'm...I'm cumming." He groaned as he emptied himself inside you. Thick hot arousal shooting up and painting your insides, it made you whimper and squirm.

There was another moment of silence that fell over you two, it wasn't the heavy awkward one the Coach had left you in. It was almost comfortable by the way Stan was pressing soft kisses into your neck, his lips moving up to your jawline and to the corner of your mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair again trying to smooth it out instead of tugging.

"So....this certainly was one way to work out our problems..."

Stan hummed in response as he slowly pulled you off him, you couldn't help but gasp at the feeling of loss again. As he pulls his pants and boxers up, he takes out the small towel he has tucked away in the pockets of his pants, and gently begins to clean your thighs. The action makes you smile a little, how one minute he could go from destroying you against a wall to treating you like some doll. When he sets you down his hands linger on your hips a little longer like he's trying to make sure you're alright enough to stand.

"Yeah...hey, I'm sorry. I'm not...good at confrontation and I shouldn't have got defense with you." His apology almost makes your heart break but at the same time it feels so warm.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my jealousy out on you. You didn't deserve that, it's not your fault." You fiddle with the material of his jersey, rolling it between your fingertips.

"Jealous? Why would you be jealous?" Stan asks completely dumbfounded by the idea.

"Because everyone always talks about you and your team! It's always how great you are, and everyone seems to like you!"

"Really? Because I always hear about how amazing you guys are. Every game the guys always feel better knowing that even if we lose you guys were cheering for us. I can't tell you how happy Butter's has been since you let him join the squad." He chuckles and goes to move a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"Awh...that's so sweet." You look up at him with a little giggle and a smile, which he returns. "Now I feel all bad."

"Nah don't feel bad...I'm just glad we got this straightened out. I know it's a little backwards but...do you think I could take you out after the game tomorrow? Win or lose I just...kinda wanna spend more time with you." He gives you a sheepish smile and a small blush creeps across his face.

"Only if you don't mind me bitching." You joke back with a little hum, pushing yourself up against him.

"It'll go great with mine." He smirks back down at you and places a kiss on your lips.

Word travels fast around campus. When you both walked out of the gym smiling at each other neither teams could believe it. Even more so when next week you were walking around with Stan's jacket over your shoulders and your pinky wrapped around his. The star quarterback's last name written in big blocky letters on your back and your lipstick staining his cheek. Definitely not a normal way to start a relationship, but that was you and Stan's little secret.

[zane009]

a little bit of blue

summary: you found some bleach and box dye on your last run so maybe it’s time you ask Daryl to help you dye your hair…maybe you’ll even get him to do it as well…just a LOT of fluff and fun times

Daryl x reader

word count: around 1500

a/n: literally based on my dream lmao it’s silly 🥲…not proof read

" shit i dun' know 'f  I'm doin' this right"

Daryl grunted as he was currently trying to figure out how to bleach your hair correctly. He was given a few instructions but to be honest he had no idea what he was doing.

You and Daryl found some box dye and bleach on your last run and while Daryl thought it was completely unnecessary and a waste of space you quite literally just showed the items inside without a second thought. It's not common to do something like this these days so the thought of dying your hair felt a bit comforting. A reminder of the old world. And with Daryl helping it would make this experience that much better.

You were currently back in Alexandria sat in a chair in Daryls bathroom, trying to calm the big man behind you. It took a hell lot of convincing to even get him to agree to this. You were surprised he didn’t give up yet considering the amount of his complaints in the last 30 minutes.

"You're doing just fine Daryl just apply it like i showed you" you said as you bit back a laugh.

He was stressing himself out for no reason and it was appealing to watch. You looked in the mirror and saw him behind you trying to apply the bleach precisely with the little brush.

He was staring with deep concentration with his brows furrowed softly and the tip of his tongue peeking out just a bit. It was a habit he did when he was really focused. Just like he did when he was sharpening his knives or carving out his new arrows. Or bolts if you would ask him. You didn’t really get the difference between those two anyways.

So you couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped you this time. His eyes snapped up immediately catching yours in the mirror. " dun' laugh at me woman 'm tryin' ma best here" he puffed out as he went back to it.

"Hell i told ya ya should've asked Rosita ta help ya"  the frustration in his voice at this point was absolutely adorable. He took the last dip in the bowl filled with bleach and layered it on your hair for the last time.

You finally let in a big stretch as you hummed " I genuinely don't know why you're complaining i mean do you think Rick knows how to bleach someones hair?" You asked as you dropped your head back over the chair and saw him frowning. "I think the fuck not. You just gained a new skill bub and you look hella hot upside down"

you smiled sweetly at him as he looked away embarrassed. “Stop”

You still won because after his complaining he still leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips being really careful not to touch any of his hard work. He would lie if he said he didn't sweat his ass of for this.

"Ya are lucky i like ya" he said as he flicked your forehead slightly.

He softly ushered you back up as he sat down on the edge of the tub " 'lright how long do ya have ta leave tha' on" he asked as he pulled a hand through his hair.

You stayed silent for a minute thinking about probably the most brilliant idea you've ever had. You slowly smiled mischievously at him raising your eyebrows a bit. Daryl was immediately alert because he knew that look. It meant nothing good was in store for him.

" wha's that look supposed ta mean" he said uncertain already backing away.

" we have just enough time for you to bleach a strand before i need to rinse this out"

" hell naw!"

He quiet literally yelled as he stood up with abrupt speed. You slowly approached him as he went around the chair that was placed in the middle of the bathroom. "Ohh come on it's just a little piece of hair and we'll be matching" you said trying to convince him.

He didn't budge just stood there with his senses high on alert ready to attack if necessary. You slowly picked up the brush still deep in bleach and took a step towards him, grinning. He immediately stepped back and hit the bathroom door. Oh it was on.

As you quickly advanced forward he ran through the door into your shared room in the basement. Dog barked seeing us running probably thinking we are playing a game. Daryl went around the table while i followed him around. Dog was running around us in circles as well while we tried not to step on the poor animal.

This went on for a few more minutes just me and Daryl running around his room, with me trying to catch him. At some point the brush in my hand was forgotten as we just laughed and enjoyed the silly moment.

After a while we were back to square one with each one of us standing on either side of the table with smiles on our faces.

Sometimes I genuinely forget how closed off Daryl used to be. He would never do this with me back at the prison. But here we are now and I wouldn't trade this for anything else.

Suddenly Dog jumped on Daryl catching him off guard as he stumbled back on the couch " Dog no" he said as he tried to get him off. I took this as my chance and made my way to him as fast as i could. I took a piece of his hair and just plopped the bleach on.

Daryl stopped everything he was doing and looked up at me slowly. " tell me ya didn' " i just burst out laughing at him while he hurried into the bathroom tripping over some pieces of clothing on the way.

" how do ya get this off" he said hurriedly as his hands went to the specific piece of hair covered in bleach. He tried touching it when I quickly stopped him still smiling

" stop you shouldn't touch it it's bleach you ass"

He looked at himself in the mirror an unsure look on his face. You started giggling behind him which made him look at you through the mirror with a frown plastered on his face "we are gonna look absolutely terrific" you said as you kissed his cheek hard and then leaned you chin on his shoulder. You looked up at him and saw him let out a defeated sigh meaning you won. He pressed his lips to your forehead and mumbled " yer gonna be the death of me"

About good half an hour forward you were quietly murmured the song playing in the background on the boombox Eugene fixed for you awhile back, while you were applying blue hair dye to Daryl’s chosen piece of hair. You did went back eventually after you both calmed down a bit and fixed the bleach making sure it was perfect. He was now sitting in the chair with hands on his lap looking like a defeated puppy. But he wasn't complaining so it was a step up.

As you two were finally done with the whole dying process it was time to rinse it out. Daryl grumbled the whole time your tired to wash his piece. He wasn't happy he had to wash his hair in the middle of the day for no reason for the second time that day already. It could be just the hair strand if he wouldn't be complaining and moving around so much. Dog contributed his part by literally jumping in the tub, getting all wet and then shaking it out.

You were drying daryls hair with the towel making sure to be gentle and not tug on any of his hair. When you felt like it was good enough you dropped the towel and looked into to the mirror. Your hair was a deep blue while Daryl had a little blue piece on the side. You places your hands on his shoulders and squeezed them a bit. "Dont we look adorable"

He seemed to frown at that as he grumbled out " sure adorable fer a clown yea" you giggled a bit as you squeezed his face in your hands and kissed his cheek lovingly. Oh how you loved this man.

He thought you looked absolutely breathtaking in blue. But then again you did look good in anything according to Daryl. It was him that felt silly with his little piece of blue hair. But what’s done is done.

You ran your hands through his hair for the last time with a pleasant smile as you went towards the bath tub to clean up the mess you two made (and Dog). You knew he wasn't actually angry but it's best to let him cool down a bit. You also knew he'll come around soon. Hell its just a matter of time before he asks you to do the rest of his hair you thought as you smiled to yourself.

Although Daryl would never ever think about confessing this out loud he didn't hate it. Sure the blue in his hair was bound to bring some unwanted attention to him but he would take it if it meant seeing you smile and giggle over it. If he was honest it didn't look bad when he saw you beside him with your beautiful blue hair.

He grinned as he stood up and went over to help you.

𐬼𐮙𐬿𐬺𐬼𐮜

I don’t think i like this tbh

[evanpetersmybf]

Scary Love

Kit Walker x female!reader

Summary: A future nun with trust issues and a falsely accused gentleman.

Genre: Fluff and some angst.

Word count: 1,381

Warnings: Catholic reader and mention of some religious items (not really sure if this counts as a warning, but okay)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

...And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You crossed yourself, still kneeling down in front of the crucifix, hands holding a Holy Mary medal.

The chapel was quiet and peaceful, a big difference in comparison to the rest of the asylum, which was always filled with screams and many other disturbing stuff. How did you end up in this hellhole? That’s the question you ask yourself every night before going to sleep. Ah yes, you were the one who took this decision. No one forced you.

You returned to the main room; a jukebox eternally playing Dominique non-stop while all the patients coexisted in the common hall.

And there he was. The one and only Kit Walker. Probably the most sane person in the habitation right now, besides you of course.

The handsome man saw you and a sweet smile appeared on his face, cute dimples along the lovely grin. Seeing him made you feel multiple things at the same time. Things you didn’t allow yourself to feel. With a heavy sigh of remorse, you avoided his gaze and kept walking around, finding an excuse to get away from him.

Kit’s brows furrowed, not getting what was happening. Why were you avoiding him? He thought you two were good friends now. In reality, you were one of the few people in the psychiatric who actually treated him as a human being and not as a crazy murderer -which he clearly wasn’t, tho- and that melted his heart.

He followed you from behind, but you kept escaping.

“Sista’!” He pleaded, until was finally able to catch up and grabbed your hand, making you turn around to face him. “Sista’ Y/N, what's goin’ on?” His dark doe eyes tried to meet yours, as an attempt to find an answer.

Nothing.

Kit scoffed, making early assumptions due to your lack of reaction. “So do ya’ really believe in that bullshit, huh? Ya’ really think I killed my wife?” Annoyed, the man let go of your hand, but deep down he hoped you didn’t think of him that way.

“No, wait!” You replied, looking down at the floor while fidgeting with a cross necklace hanging around your neck. “Is not like that, Kit…”

“Then what is it, sista’? Are ya’ scared of me?”

“I actually am.” You took a deep breath and stared at his eyes after hesitating for a while. “I’m afraid you are the temptation, Kit.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow, having more questions than answers. “Whatcha’ mean, sista’? Da’ temptation?”

“The temptation I always pray to God to keep far from me.” Your gaze drifted to his forearms; thick veins and big hands. Oh Lord.

Kit realized you were staring down. He tried to discover what were you looking at, until he noticed your eyes and a subtle blush on your cheeks.

He smirked and crossed his arms in front of him. That cheeky smile. The one who made you head over heels.

“Oh, so now I’m da’ devil, hm?”

You didn’t say anything else. You ran away from him and locked yourself in your room.

Kit was always on your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. Even when you attempted to pray, you heard his voice. Maybe you need to be the patient and not a novice.

After a long sleepless night, you found yourself in the kitchen early in the morning, just to find Kit kneading dough and mumbling some things to himself.

“Mornin’, sista’” Voice soft like honey, yet it showed some concern because of what happened yesterday between you two. “Ya’ ‘kay?”

“Mhm…” Of course not. You weren’t okay. You felt conflicted.

“If I may ask… Why did ya’ become a nun?”

“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t made my vows. I’m here tryin’ to find out if this truly is my vocation or not.”

“And? Have you made up your mind?”

You shook your head no, hugging yourself and looking at his arms, again. “You’re the reason why I don’t know if I belong here.”

Kit let out a chuckle, feeling amused by your shyness and obvious fixation on his limbs.

“Why do ya’ always stare at my hands, sista’? Do ya’ like ‘em?”

Your face went red, eyes slightly widened. Damn. He noticed it.

“I’m not supposed to like those sinful things.”

“Ya’ a human too, Y/N”

“But I wasn’t made for this. For affection or lust.”

Kit was curious about what you meant by that. You explained everything to him, saying you felt out of place because when you were growing up not a single boy flirted with you. Besides, you said you had many awful love experiences and, after a serious heartbreak, you began to wonder if possibly your destiny was staying single and dedicating the rest of your life to God. Furthermore, you mentioned your fear of physical touch, and how you still desired it. It was complicated.

The man listened to you, looking at how you fidgeted with a chain while you nervously told your story, taking note of how your soothing voice cracked from time to time.

Everything about you was so alluring to him. He couldn’t believe no one treated you right. And, as the gentleman he was, he wanted to change that.

“Well, sista’... To me, you’re one of da’ most beautiful women alive. I mean it.” Kit took a few steps closer to you, but kept a fair distance in order to not make you uncomfortable.

He cracked a smile, in love with those charming eyes of yours.

“If I’m that beautiful, why haven't I been loved, Kit? Tell me why–”

Kit was now some inches away from your face contemplating your lips. He placed a hand over your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence.

You tried to speak, but it was nonsense; his palm muffling your words.

“Y/N, ‘m not like those assholes. Not at all. Trust me, please.”

He let you speak again, now intertwining his fingers with yours. His body was warm, his touch was gentle and comforting, the type of connection you’ve been craving for too long. Walker was so good-looking; you could look at him forever… And he could look at you for the rest of eternity, too.

“Can I, gorgeous?” His thumb brushed your lips and part of your cheek, sending electric waves to your spine.

Was this even for real? You doubt it. You thought he was messing around, but he wasn’t.

Fearfully, you agreed.

Finally, Kit leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your velvety ones. The kiss was tender, full of endearment. His heart was beating fast, so was yours. Pupils dilated and breathing deep.

He cupped the side of your face, rubbing the flesh with his digit while you melted under his touch.

This was the very first time that someone held you the way he did. Embracing you as if you were the most precious gem, or as if you were made of delicate porcelain.

Eventually, he pulled away and grinned, both of you feeling like dorky teens after having their first kiss, even if that wasn’t the case. “Ya’ so divine…” Kit mumbled and then, his lips were dancing with yours.

He stepped back from time to time exclusively to flatter you, saying corny compliments between the kisses.

His hands were roaming all over your body, caressing every right spot to make you feel in heaven.

He was so good at this.

But… Did this have a future?

Kit was here in Briarcliff, falsely accused of committing a murder. Not only that, you were a novice. This love couldn’t be.

Your mind overwhelmed you with those thoughts, making you abruptly get away from him.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Or perhaps you could. You felt like losing your mind. Love was making you crazy. However, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, nor risk his safety for this. Maybe you were scared of his love. Of how much he was caring for you. You didn’t understand.

Without further ado, you left the cold kitchen, once filled with sweetness and adoration.

Kit remained there, a single tear drop falling from his eye, wondering if he could ever be happy again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

A/N: English isn't my first language. Sorry if this has grammatical mistakes. Also, I tried to be respectful with the religion, I'm catholic myself and I'm so sorry if this offends someone. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

[bitchinbarzal]

rotwm series: mountain with a view — q.hughes

based on mountain with a view by kelsea ballerini

-

It's 7 a.m. and I'm on a mountain with a view. I'm the only one, alone, at a table meant for two. Big Sur looks beautiful this morning and I should be missin' you, I should be missin' you.

You sat in the window nook of your Airbnb. In all your time travelling around after Quinn you’d never truly experienced California, how beautiful it was.

It was the same Airbnb that you’d stayed in together on your honeymoon.

The honeymoon you had to settle for when your luxurious all inclusive honeymoon was ruined. Quinn had decided to go back to Vancouver early to start training and after a lot of back and forth arguments he agreed to a long weekend in California.

You thought you’d be sad to return, this time without him but you weren’t. You did everything you wanted to the first time round that Quinn deemed

“Not fun”

“Boring”

And “a waste of time”

You didn’t miss him and you felt so happy.

You're across the pond at a show, I think, in Amsterdam and the pictures look pretty, at least they do on your Instagram We say good morning, then goodnight I wonder if you even know where I am, where I am

You couldn’t even remember where he was playing tonight. You were only reminded when you saw he had reposted a picture from Brock’s story onto his.

They were out at some restaurant all smiling and laughing.

You’d actually only checked instagram when your mom had asked you where Quinn was playing that night and you couldn’t even answer her.

You used to follow him around when he went on roadies, travelling to New Jersey and Toronto just to support him and now you didn’t talk whenever he was on the road, he’d ask what you got up to whenever he got home but you knew he didn’t really care and just wanted to fill the silence.

I'm wearin' the ring still, but I think I'm lyin' Sometimes you forget yours, I think we're done tryin' I realize you loved me much more at twenty-three I think that this is when it's over for me

Whenever you did finally do something together it was a work event — the canucks annual charity ball.

“Oh my goodness I can’t ever get over how gorgeous this ring is!” Brock’s girlfriend smiles, grabbing your hand and admiring your wedding ring.

“Thank you!” You replied, blushing and leaning into Quinn’s side.

She scowled “Quinn you’re not wearing yours?” You looked down at Quinn’s left hand to find the gold band gone.

“Oh! I must’ve forgot it” he brushes it off, giving a tight smile.

You didn’t reproach the situation that night.

But you watched him across the next few weeks every morning as he brushed over his wedding band in your jewelry box.

He never put it on.

“Hey, why aren’t you wearing your wedding ring?” You asked one morning, brushing your hair in the mirror.

“It’s not a big deal” he grumbled.

“It’s our wedding rings Quinn, it is a big deal!”

“God why are you such a bitch lately? Why can’t you be chill like you used to?”

You look at him, wide eyes “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“Like why can’t you just be like when we first got married? Silent and Supportive!”

You didn’t even reply, simply turning to leave the room before you burst into tears.

I think that this is when I cut the ties I think that is when I set myself free One day you'll ask, "When was it over for you?"

I'm takin' the ring off, I'm finally cryin' Don't try to find yours, no reason to fight it

You'll say I'm crazy for bein' the one to leave Scream I'm just like my parents and givin' up easy

But you never took that last flight to see me.

“Babe come on you don’t have to do this!” Quinn cries, following you through the house.

He’d come home from practice to find your suitcases by the front door and you standing at the kitchen counter waiting for him.

He asked why your suitcases were outside, what was wrong. You never answered, simply sliding your wedding ring along the granite and he groaned lowly.

“Baby…”

“Don’t Quinn!” You snap “It’s over”

“It Just just be over!” He screams “We are married!”

You look at him waving his arms around wildly and tears drop down your cheeks

“Quinn… let me go please”

His eyes soften and he steps around the counter “Baby please… why?”

You looked at him, he could feel the pain you were in just by your face. He wanted to reach out and hold you.

“Quinn… you never come home anymore”

“I’m always home?!” He screams, hands waving around.

He wasn’t screaming in anger, he was scared screaming. Screaming to hold onto what was slowly slipping away from him.

You sniffled, hands shaking as you reached up and held his face

“I don’t know the man that walks through those doors anymore… but it’s not you that comes home to me”

The tears were streaming down his face as well as yours as he mumbled

“You can’t leave me”

“Quinn I should’ve left a long time ago”

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

Something To Hold On To

Another night is spent in your half empty bed, staring out of the window, unable to sleep. Watching. Waiting. Desperate. The events that led you to this agonising repetition haunt you, ghosts of the past preventing your present from ever seeing a future, because it is unchanging now.

Denise’s death snapped something in Daryl, you knew it from the moment he got back that day, but you had never thought in a million years that anything would have the power to push him away from you. From your perspective, the death of a loved one brings you closer to the rest of the people you love, because it reminds you to cherish every moment with them, but for Daryl...it was different. You followed him all the way to the gate that day, trying to persuade him not to go out there because you knew what he could be risking. Usually, you were the one person guaranteed to get through to him, it had been that way since the farm, when the group found out where Sophia had been all that time. You were the only one that Daryl couldnt snap at, for some reason he had restraint around you. But that day at the gate, he lost it.

“The hell ya think yer doin’? You dont own me, I aint yers, who were we tryin’ to kid thinkin’ any of this was worth it?! Im better off by my damn self, ya don’ get a say in what I do, aint the boss of me. Run back to yer house, yer garden, an’ block out reality like ya usually do! Never should’a let this go on fer so long.”

Daryl was in your face, throwing his arms up in big theatrical gestures, bringing the attention of everyone who happened to be around. You stood there broken in front of him, unable to say a word; what was there to say after hearing that? With a final scoff, he got on his bike, and he was gone.

The next and last time you saw him was at the lineup. Despite everything that he’d said to break your heart, you couldnt keep your eyes off of him, seeing him in such a state and not being able to go to him was the most painful thing you’d ever experienced. After Abraham, you were staring at Daryl for strength, to keep yourself together, to prevent you from looking at what was left of your friend. Obviously, an egotistical prick like Negan didnt take kindly to you refusing to look at him.

“Well, it looks like we’ve got a couple of lovers in our midst! ‘Scuse me darlin’, would you mind paying me a little attention? I did just brutally kill this poor ginger after all, the least you could do is admire my work!” Negan’s voice was almost flirtatious, in the most sadistic way, but when you continued to refuse him, he shoved his barbed-wire-bound bat in your face and yelled. “Take a damn look!”

And you got the surprise of your life. Daryl leapt to his feet, swinging at Negan and landing a hard punch to his jaw before he was held down. You cried out, trembling feverishly, thinking that Negan was going to kill Daryl for that, but instead he took Glenn. That, you couldnt look away from. The devastation in Daryl’s eyes told you that he blamed himself for Glenn’s death, and you would have done anything to reassure him, but then he was taken.

And every night since, you have been like this. Lying awake and staring out the window at the Alexandria gate, waiting for it to magically open and reveal Daryl, safe and sound. Trying to sleep with your paranoia over what was happening to him, whether he was even still alive, was an impossible feat in itself. But that combined with trying to decode Daryl’s actions, from brutally ending your relationship because he didnt want you anymore, to risking his own life just because a very threatening man was talking to you. Of course, you know Daryl is a kind man, he loves deep and cares so much more than he lets on, it isnt out of character for him to defend you after ending things with you. But, over the years Daryl has gotten a lot more level-headed, and in a situation like that, he could usually be trusted to hold it together better than pretty much anyone else; he’s an expert at bottling things up, after all. The fact that he lashed out like that, you’d only have expected a reaction of that ferocity from him being in love with you still, which completely counterbalanced what he’d said earlier that day. If he did still love you, why would he say such horrible things? None of it made sense, all you want to do is talk to him and find out what he meant, you need to see him, and you dont know how far away that day will be, if it’s even possible.

Night’s without Daryl are difficult, but you have some things to make the days a little easier. Rick keeps a close eye on you, knowing that what Daryl said really messed you up and that regardless, being without him is hard on you. He regularly asks you to join him in completing various tasks, or even to just watch Judith because it gives you something to distract yourself from it all. It was when you were distracted that the other things came into play.

Judith is sitting in your lap, listening to you intently as you read her a story. She’s just had her morning feed and is due for a name anytime now, reading to her always helps her drift off without a fuss.

“The prince found the sleeping princess, and he leant down to give her a kiss-“

And then, you are gone.

It was late, and you had promised yourself you were going to stay awake until Daryl had returned from the run. He could be gone until tomorrow morning, you didnt care, you were stubborn enough to stick it out. Or, so you thought. As the sun rose and Daryl crept through the front door, he found you passed out on the stairs. He laughed quietly to himself, but couldnt help feeling guilty at putting you in that position by being home late. As gently as he could, Daryl lifted you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs bridal style. He carefully laid you down in the bed you shared, kicking his shoes off before crawling in beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, causing you to stir awake.

“You’re home!” Your sleepily slurred whispers were joyous, a welcome sound to Daryl’s own tired ears.

“Yeah I am, now get some rest, got the day off tomorrow.” Daryl mumbled.

You gasped and turned over to snuggle into his chest. “A whole day to makeout like teenagers?”

Daryl scoffed, blushing and burying his face in the pillow, making you laugh.

When you come back to yourself, Judith is asleep in your arms, and the tears you hadnt realised were rolling down your cheeks have started falling onto her little head. You’re quick to gently dry her head with the blanket around her, and then you wipe your own eyes with your hand.

Later, when Rick comes to take Judith and you’re jogging down the porch steps of the Grimes house, you happen to glance down the street. For maybe half a second, the perfect vision of Daryl standing in the distance, waving at you, stops you dead in your tracks. Tears fill your eyes, and by the time you’ve cleared them, he’s gone. Rick watches from the window as you wipe your eyes and hurry down the street in the opposite direction to your house, where you’d just told him you were going. You have to walk the long way round to avoid heading towards the place you’d just seen Daryl standing. Wherever he appears, that’s always the way.

Flashbacks and visions of him get you through the day, and as painful as they are, they make you feel something, they give you fleeting moments of joy until reality returns to you. Blocking out reality, that’s what Daryl said you did, but you’d never truly done that until now. At night, no flashbacks or visions ever came, and every night is eerily silent. Numb, empty, cold no matter how many blankets you wrap around yourself.

The one time you decided to distract yourself by leaving Alexandria to go on a supply run, Negan happened to show up, and he brought Daryl with him. Apparently, Negan asked Rick where you were, and Daryl looked up from the ground to watch Rick’s face as he answered.

“She left on a supply run this morning, she probably wont be back for a few days.” Rick said, holding Daryl’s gaze for just a moment so that Daryl knew two things: one, he was telling the truth, and two, you were alive.

“Well that is a shame, I brought Daryl here just for her!” Negan sighed dramatically, and then continued to go about his asshole business.

Ever since, you have stayed within the walls of Alexandria. You know that if you had been there that day, you would’ve lost your mind seeing Daryl, and probably gotten yourself in trouble for not being able to keep it together. But having the knowledge of it happening when you werent here, knowing it could happen again, however unlikely that may be, you have prepared yourself.

It’s been too long, you refused to count the days because with every one that passed it would feel like you were even further away from Daryl. At least now you know that Negan is keeping Daryl alive. Torturing him, yes, but keeping him alive.

When Rick asks you to come with him and a group to the Hilltop, you’re hesitant, wanting to stay at Alexandria just in case Negan comes back. You will gladly bargain your life for Daryl’s safe return home, and Rick knows that, which is exactly why he persuades you to come with him to the Hilltop. It takes a lot of persuasion, mainly bringing up the fact that one of your closest friends, Maggie, would love to see you. Rick will proudly admit to guilt-tripping you if it means he avoided you offering your life up to Negan.

The gates of the Hilltop open before you, and you’re already itching to go back to Alexandria, paranoid that Negan is back there with Daryl. The group follows Rick through the gates, and for a moment you’re occupied by your thoughts, until Rosita nudges you and gestures for you to head inside the walls. Maggie embraces Rick, and when Rick pulls away, he looks to his right and his eyes fill with tears. You follow his gaze. In a fraction of a second, your vision is blurred, and you’ve collapsed to your knees, in silent, sobbing hysterics. Maggie, Rosita and Tara are quick to huddle around you, offering you comforting words that you cant even hear. Your hands cover your face as you sob into them, you cant see or hear anything, but you can feel a pair of familiar eyes burning into you from afar.

Tara lets go of you to join Rick and Michonne in hugging him, welcoming him back.

Rick glances at everyone else, all of them having a good idea of what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth. “Let’s head inside, they need to catchup.”

You feel the comforting arms leave you, and you lower your shaking hands from your face, wiping your eyes and slowly rising to your feet. It takes all the strength you have left to lift your head, to meet his eyes. Daryl. His name sets you on fire, goosebumps rippling all over your skin, your throat suddenly dry and heart pounding against your ribs.

He looks awkward, uncomfortable, like he’s holding back from something. You know him too well. You cross your arms over your chest and slowly walk over to him.

And despite everything, you manage to smile at him. “You’re really back?” You ask, voice somewhat hoarse from all the crying you’ve just done.

Daryl nods, not saying anything.

“I dont know what happened to you, but I am so, so sorry.” You tell him, your sincerity laced in every syllable, almost bringing yourself back to tears at the thought of what he could have gone through.

Daryl nods again.

You take a deep breath, preparing to say the words you’ve been planning. “And I want you to know that I’ve come to terms with everything, regarding us no longer being, well, us...and I get it, things change and dont always work out-“ You nod to yourself while avoiding his eyes, as though still trying to convince yourself. “-but I want you to know that I can put it all behind me, and I will.” You meet his eyes. “Because more than anything, I want to be here for you, for whatever you need.”

Daryl shakes his head, finally finding the courage to speak. “Stupidest thing I ever did.”

For a brief moment, the sound of his voice leaves you breathless, but you quickly regain control of yourself.

“What was?” You ask.

“Everythin’ I said to ya that day, I was fuckin’ stupid, an’ wrong.” Daryl admits, shaking his head again, angry at himself.

“Y-You were?” You stammer out, unable to believe what you’re hearing and in desperate need of an explanation.

Daryl stares into your eyes for a few seconds, and you can almost see him taking in the sight of you to beat himself over the head with, to relive this guilt and torture himself further.

He glances down at his shoes. “Thought I had the strength t’ push ya away, t’ try and protect you, but I realised that there aint nobody that’d try as hard as me to keep ya safe.” Daryl looks back up at you, holding your gaze, not shy about admitting his last sentiment. “I’d die fer you.”

Your eyes start filling with fresh tears of an entirely different meaning. “Daryl...”

Daryl shrugs you off, avoiding your eyes because he knows you can see right through him; you know how hard it is for him to talk about his feelings, but he’ll do it for you. “I know i’s too late, I took too damn long realisin’ what was good fer me. For all I know ya could’ve moved on already, but I wouldnt be able to live with myself if I didnt tell ya the truth.”

Then, you smile, and Daryl cant avoid looking at you any longer. The sight of your genuine smile has been his favourite memory to cling to in that cell, the one view he couldnt wait to see again, even if it was never directed at him after what he’d done. You take the single step necessary to stand toe to toe with him, and you ever so slowly lift your hands to cup his face. Daryl breathes a sigh of relief, his eyes immediately closing as he relaxes into your touch, instinctively, even after all this time.

“How could I ever move on from the man I’d die for?”

[herofics]

I had this insane dream that would make for a good Dabi and Shigaraki story? You know “Gaston” from “Beauty and the Beast” 

So it’s based around between season five and six so Dabi or Shigaraki (separate stories,) have a S/O well Re-Destro and Trumpet find out about Shigaraki’s or Dabi’s S/O and they are upset about it and they pull off this “Gaston” crap like “ it’s not right for a villain to have a lover because we’re villains we don’t have time for that shit and this ‘lover’ of Shigaraki’s or Dabi’s and (she or they) are going to get in the way of our ‘evil plans’ ” type of crap.

So do you like try to blackmail and threaten the S/O to scare them off and end the relationship (she or them) with Shigaraki or Dabi but S/O doesn’t have the heart to tell them because they love Shigaraki or Dabi so much but then Shigaraki or Dabi found out on their own about what’s going on and they are pissed as hell about the whole situation and they confront Re-Destro and trumpet about it and those two are terrified as af and they leave Y/N alone.

plus even skeptic knew about what was going on and he’s on Y/N’s side, because even he knew it was wrong of them to try and get in between Shigaraki or Dabi and their S/O.

A/N: I really liked this request tbh, sorry it took so long though. The Shiggy one went a bit differently than what you requested but oh well. Not my best work but eeeeh, I didn’t want to work on it anymore, since I started writing this like a month ago

~Dabi~

He already knew that the Meta Liberation Army people loved sticking their noses where they didn’t belong, but for god’s sakes. He normally wouldn’t care, but now that it involved him and you, he was pissed. This also explained the fact that you seemed to be distancing yourself from him.

He marched straight to your shared room and basically kicked the door open.

You had been sitting on the couch by the window, and almost dropped your phone when the door busted open.

“Why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?” Dabi growled as he approached you.

“Holy shit Dabi, you don’t need to give me a heart attack to get my attention” you said with a mildly annoyed tone. “Also what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talkin about. That Trumpet guy has been tryin to get rid of you, hasn’t he?”

“Well he hasn’t tried to kill me or anything…” you downplayed the whole thing. “Besides, how did you even find out? I doubt he told you”

“That goth with all the computers told me. He loves to gossip apparently” Dabi rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I see. He does seem to know everything that’s going on around here” you grumbled.

“So, spill it” Dabi commanded.

You sighed and patted the spot on the couch next to you. Dabi sat down next to you and you explained: “Well, short version is, the MLA has big plans for you and they don’t need me to “get in your way” and “make you soft”, or something”

“What the hell?” Dabi groaned.

“Apparently their reasoning is that I take too much of your time, and you’d prioritize me over what you’re supposed to do. I don’t really know to be honest, they just don’t like me being with you”

“Those bastards…”

“It kind of got to me I guess. Of course the threats of violence had some part in it too, but I really don’t want to get in the way of what you need to do”

“First of all you’re not gettin in my way, and if you were, you wouldn’t be here. Second of all, I’m goin to burn that loud bastard alive”

“That’d be great, but I would rather you not incur the wrath of the rest of them, that’d just lead to more trouble”

“You think I care?” Dabi scoffed.

“Nope, but I thought I’d mention it anyway” you couldn’t help but smirk a little.

Dabi wasn’t going to let this stand. No one threatened his s/o and got away with it.

“I’m gonna go teach that Trumpet guy a lesson, he needs to learn to mind his business” Dabi shouted as he stomped out of the room.

“Oh boy” you muttered to yourself.

Dabi was intent on keeping his word. No one got to tell his partner what to do, well no one other than him.

He marched through the mansion in search of the damned politician, and when he finally got his hands on the man he did what he promised.

“You need to learn to mind your damn business. My relationships are none of your business” Dabi said as he decked the man in the nose.

“I’m just doing what’s best for the cause, you can’t fault me for that” he said as he held his now bloody nose.

“I don’t give a damn about why you did it, just know that you’re not going to do it again, or you’ll regret it” Dabi smiled manically, as he let go of the other man’s collar, making him stumble back.

“No, I won’t do anything, I swear” Trumpet promised.

“You’d better keep your word” Dabi hissed as he left the room. “Idiot”

~Shigaraki Tomura~

It’s not like he was the most attentive or observant guy around, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could feel you’d been getting more and more distant lately. He felt like he hadn’t seen you in days before you finally showed up at the hospital, about a day before he was supposed to start undergoing the experiments the doctor had planned for him.

“Haven’t seen you in a while” he said, staring out the window, not turning to look at you.

“How’d you know it was me?” you asked from the doorway

Shigaraki motioned towards your reflection in the window, still not looking at you.

“I’ve gotta come clean about something” you said as you walked up to him and placed your hand on his shoulder.

Shigaraki finally turned to look at you and he was surprised by what he saw. You were teary eyed and looked very upset.

“What is it? Who do I need to hurt?” he asked, with that familiarly malicious glint in his eyes.

You knew his malice wasn’t directed at you, but it still made you a bit nervous because you knew what usually followed. Someone was about to get hurt, badly.

“No, it’s not like that… Well maybe it is partly, but that’s not what I want to talk about” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “I thought I could deal with this by myself, just do what he demanded and not cause you any trouble, but…”

“Who demanded?” Shigaraki had a feeling he already knew who you were referring to.

“Re-Destro” you muttered.

“That old man really doesn’t know how to keep his nose out of other people’s business” Shigaraki groaned. “What did he say to you?”

“He doesn’t want me to be with you, apparently I’m getting in the way of your greatness and potential and I have an unwanted influence on you. I don’t want to get in your way so I just kind of tried to stay away from you, the threats of violence added weight to his warning too” you explained reluctantly.

“Did he hurt you?” Shigaraki asked, sounding like he had to force the words from between his teeth.

“No” you lied, really hoping you wouldn’t make the situation any worse. “I just felt like I needed to tell you before whatever the doctor has planned for you, in case something happens…”

You already regretted telling him, because you knew he would gladly retaliate on your behalf even if you told him not to. You should have just kept your mouth shut, but there was no taking it back now.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, and after it’s all done, I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch to make sure he never even looks your way again” Shigaraki assured.

“That might be overkill” you rolled your eyes with a sniffle. “At least let his serve his purpose in the war, he can die after that”

“You’re too nice to someone who threatened you, he doesn’t deserve it” Shigaraki sighed with an annoyed tone and pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure he knows not to come anywhere near you before I’m back”

“Thank you Tomura” you smiled. “Also, I’m not being nice, I’m being practical”

“Whatever you say” he rolled his eyes.

[the-crystal-one]

Nicest Kids in Town!

Chapter 2

~Baltimore 1960~

It wasn't uncommon for Sandra to be in the detention room. Not because she was a bad student, never that. Mr.Ichbad had a small reputation for sending most of his students to detention halls for numerous reasons, chewing gum, laughing to loud,(being black and proud) blasting music from their stereos and last but not least, not being in your seat before the bell rung.

As Sandra approached the detention doors, she could hear the tunes seeping through the door. Like a light switch, her cheek bones rose and she pushed the door handle, revealing her brother and some other kids she knew. "Now I know y'all don't have detention this early in the day, y'all should be ashamed of ya'selfs." She fake scolded them all as she trekked to the front desk and folded her hands, breaking out in laughter.

Seaweed smiled, holding his hand out to her, "Aw now you know the man is always tryin' to get me down girl." Sandra grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, beginning to dance with him. "Mr.Stubbs what have you done this time to get yo'self 'down' by the man?" She smirked at him and moved her body, like water, with the music.

Her brother's hand flew to his chest and he feigned innocence, "Me?! Nah, I didn't do nothing-" A girl with her curlers still in popped up behind her, "He was playin' his stereo and gettin' fresh with Ms.Malene." Curlers walked away, beginning to take her hair down.

Seaweed smacked his lips and twirled his sister around to distract her from the situation at hand. "Let's focus on things that actually matter...Your Hair!" He softly pulled on one of Sandra's curls. She gasped and smacked his hand. "Boy I know what I'm doin'! How about you worry about one of these little girls you're around here chasing." He pushed her shoulder and went back to dancing. Sandra joined him and hummed along with the beat of the music.

~Timeskip through the day~ Sandra had finally slicked her hair back, leaving the back of her afro out to appease her and her mother. In the time that it took her to do that, a short chubby white girl, had entered the room. She looked a bit frazzled but that was usual when non black people entered the detention room. As Seaweed spun to the music, she crept around the crowd of people. Sandra brushed her off as nothing and began to glide her hands down her front half, following her brother's move.

"Can I help you?" Derek, a lightskinned brotha in the corner of the class asked the girl, turning his neck down to look at her. She watched the two siblings in awe, "That moves swish!" Derek broke out into a smile and turned his head back to Seaweed and Saucy. "Got that right."

"The man can diet me on a diet of detention, so long as he don't starve me of my tunes baby!" Seaweed turned to the girl and Saucy did the same, gliding over to her. Tracey look at the brown skinned woman and smiled. "Does this dance have a name?" Sandra nodded and shimmied around the small woman, "Mhmmm, he calls it 'The Peyton Place after midnight'." She lightly shook the girl with tall black hair.

"I use to uh, attract the opposite sex." Seaweed shimmed and began strutting towards the girl and his sister. "Wow, that is so groovy." The teenager watched as the boy spin slowly and hold his hand out to her. "You're really good!" She kept awing over him, Saucy on the other side of her couldn't take it anymore because she could see her big headed brother's ego boost with every compliment. "Why thank you." She smiled and pondered for a second, "So would it be something like this?" He looked over at his sister and pulled her over, beginning his dance again, but this time, the chubby girl joined in. "Hey I know where I've seen you two before!" Saucy and Seaweed looked over at each other as smiles grew on their faces, "Oh yeah?" Seaweed's movements didn't halt for a moment. Saucy on the other hand took the chance to catch her breath and lean against a desk, "Where?"

Tracey's smile grew twenty sizes as she began fawning over the two "stars", "On Corny's show on negro day! Negro day is the best I wish everyday were negro day!" Saucy couldn't contain her roaring laughter. Seaweed and Tracey began to circle one another, "At our house, it is." The room followed suit in Saucy's action and burst out in chuckles and giggles.

As the laughter continued, Tracey stood, looking up at Seaweed and then at Saucy, "Hey...Show me another one?" Seaweed's arm draped over his older sister (by a couple of months) shoulder, "Oh you wanna see another one?" Saucy's hip poked out and she looked to her brother, "Oh I think she wants to see another one."

"Well," Seaweed began, "Here's a little somethin' signified to say, 'Hello, My name is Seaweed J. ," He pulled Tracey closer with an invisible rope. "Stubbs." The room oh'd and awe'd. Saucy sat back giggled at the current actions and sat up on a desk, swinging her feet to and fro. "What's your's girl?" She called out. "I'm Tray! Cee! Turn! Blad!" The entire room erupted in joy and shock, "You betta get it white girl!"

"Well Tracey, you got it goin' on girl, and before she forgets, the elegant, the lovely, the wonderful," Saucy rolled her eyes as her brother drew out her introduction out, "The always amazing, Sandra "Saucy" Stubbs." The room once again went up in arms, probably disturbing the already peeved teachers.

She waved them all off, "Anyhow, Tracey baby, you one of us now." She gave her a wink and the girl smirked to her. "You're goin' this program already in progress!" Her hips rotated and that caused Sandra to hop off of the desk, bumping Tracey with her own hips.

"Let's go." Seaweed spoke to Tracey as Derek cranked the music back up. Everyone gave themselves space and started dancing, loud and proud.

Unbeknownst to them all, peeking through the glass of the window were two, rather nosey, white boys. Very entrapped by the small teenager, gyrating around without a care in the world.

As the door slowly creaked open, Sandra straightened herself out and cleared her throat.

Seaweed on the other hand didn't notice, "So how you likin' detention?" Tracey's hips moved fluidly, "I'm a bad bad girl who needs to be punished!" She smacked herself on the rear end. Sandra nudged her sibling and nodded towards the door, making him cover his mouth to laugh. Tracey turned her head to the door to see Link Larken and another male staring right back at her.

A beat went by.

"Hey you know...Corny's hosting the hop tomorrow, if he saw you dancing like that he'd put you in the show." The two Black children stood between the other white ones, watching this painfully awkward moment, just before the bell rung Tracy nodded her head, brushing past Link.

"Sorry little darlin', hope I didn't dent your do." He stalked out of the detention room and Saucy looked at Tracey. "Well, you have a good time, we'll see you...eventually." She grabbed her brother's hand and yanked him out of the classroom. ~Chapter 3~

[thelastspeecher]

Okay I finally got around to writing up the next thing for my Foster Ford AU. I, uh, I already knew exactly what I wanted to write (I drive a lot for work and come up with fic stuff during those drives), but Life kept me from actually writing it down. But here it is! Happy Saturday. :)

——————————————————————————————

              Stan was finishing up dinner by the time his wife, Angie, walked into their house.  He looked over his shoulder.

              “Hey, babe.”

              “Hey yourself,” Angie said cheekily.  She slipped her shoes off, placing them in the basket by the door.  “Somethin’ smells good.”

              “It’s just pasta.”

              “And?” Angie asked pointedly.  “Does it bein’ pasta mean it shouldn’t smell good?”  Stan turned back to the stove, hiding a smile.

              Love when she tells me off in that sexy southern accent of hers.

              “Sorry it took me so long to get home,” Angie continued.  She sighed heavily.  “It took me forever to finish gradin’ my students’ labs, and after I finished those, I had to clean some cages.”

              “It’ll be good practice for that zoo job you’ve got lined up after you graduate,” Stan said.

              “Oh please, I don’t need any practice cleanin’ after animals,” Angie scoffed.  “I grew up on a farm, ‘member?  I’ve been cleanin’ after animals since I was old enough to hold a broom.  I just wish I could get home sooner.  I hate to leave ya with all the food prep.”

              “Eh, you and Shermie taught me enough kitchen stuff to keep me from setting things on fire,” Stan said with a shrug.  Angie chuckled.  “Sit down.  I’ll bring you dinner.”  Stan scooped pasta into a bowl, sprinkled cheese on top, and then brought it to Angie sitting on the couch in the adjacent living room.  As he handed the bowl over to her, Angie raised an eyebrow at him.

              “What are ya tryin’ to butter me up for?”

              “Why do you assume I’m trying to butter you up?”

              “You even put the cheese on fer me.”  Angie cocked her head.  “Somethin’s on yer mind.”

              “You can see right through me,” Stan mumbled.  He shooed the cat off the couch, then sat next to Angie.  “I told you about this kid at school, Stan.”

              “Yes.  You did.”  Angie set her bowl on the coffee table, on top of an old National Geographic magazine.  “Poor thing’s in foster care, right?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan took a deep breath.  “And…there’s a pretty big thing I haven’t mentioned about him.”

              “What?”

              “He looks exactly like my twin brother.”

              “You’ve got a twin brother?” Angie asked.  Stan winced.  “Stanley Pines, we’re married!  And we’ve known each other how long?  Why would ya keep such a big secret from me?”  She crossed her arms.  “Ya better have a good reason.”

              “I do.”

              “Then spill.”

              “Ford – that’s my twin’s name – and I were pretty close growing up.  I mean, we’re twins.  Sorta required.  But in high school, well, it all got ruined.”

              “How?”

              “He did this science fair project that caught the attention of some fancy school on the other side of the country.  He was…he was gonna leave me behind.  And I- I got angry.”

              “Oh, no,” Angie said quietly.  “In yer anger, did ya do somethin’ ya regret?”

              “Yes,” Stan said quietly.  Angie gasped.  “Not- whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that bad.  I went to the school where Ford’s experiment was and, okay, this is gonna sound stupid, but I shouted at it for taking my brother away from me.”

              “That don’t sound stupid.”

              “Yeah, you named your violin.”

              “Fiddle, and she came with the name.”

              “You’re just making my point for me,” Stan said.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Whatever.  So, ya went to yell at the experiment.  Don’t sound too bad.”

              “Yeah, well, I’m not done yet.”  Angie gestured for him to continue.  “I- I got angry and I hit the table it was on and the next thing I knew it was smoking and wasn’t moving and-”  Stan shook his head.  He could feel hot guilt pulsing at the base of his neck, like it always did when he thought about that day.  “I thought I fixed it.  So I didn’t tell Ford.”

              “You didn’t tell- you thought you fixed it?” Angie asked incredulously.  “What kind of project was this?”

              “Uh, I think it was called a perpetual motion machine,” Stan said, scratching his chin idly.  When Angie didn’t say anything, he looked at her.  She was gaping, shocked.  “What?”

              “Yer brother made a workin’ perpetual motion machine?” she squeaked.  Stan nodded.  She began to tug on her hair.  “You- what- how?”

              “Hey, what have I told you about leaving your hair alone?” Stan said playfully, pulling her hands away from her hair.  “It’s too pretty to get all torn out.”  Angie put her head in her hands.  “Is a perpetual motion machine a big thing?”

              “Yes.  It is.”

              “I’m kinda surprised you know what it is.  I thought your brother was the one who makes machines.”

              “He is.”  Angie dragged her hands down her face.  “But ya don’t need to be an engineer to know perpetual motion machines ain’t s’pposed to be possible!”

              “Yeah, Ford- Ford’s pretty smart.”

              “Sounds like it.”  Angie shook her head.  “Okay.  You thought you fixed a perpetual motion machine- now that’s just a crazy sentence what came out of my mouth.  What happened next?”

              “I didn’t tell Ford.  I didn’t want him to think I did it on purpose.  Of course, that’s what he thought when it turned out I didn’t actually fix it.  Don’t think it needs to be said, but I’ll say it anyway.  He didn’t get into the fancy school.  At home, we got into a big fight over it and my Pops kicked me out.”

              “Over a broken science fair project?” Angie asked softly.

              “Honestly, I think he was just looking for an excuse to get rid of me.”

              “How old were ya?”

              “Seventeen.”

              “Oh, Lordy,” Angie breathed.  She put a hand on Stan’s knee.  “Darlin’…”

              “That’s why I was living with Shermie when we met,” Stan continued, trying to ignore the tears beginning to prick the corners of his eyes.  “He heard what happened, tracked me down, and thanks to him, I got my GED, got a community college degree, and met you.”  Stan smiled at Angie.  Angie returned the expression.  It was the same sweet smile she made the day they met in the coffee shop, when she realized Stan had put extra whipped cream on her hot chocolate.  As a barista, it was what he usually did to flirt with pretty ladies, but even then, when Angie smiled at him, he knew she was different.

              “I see why ya didn’t mention him to me ‘fore,” Angie said.  She squeezed Stan’s knee.  “But in the future, please, share these things.  I know they aren’t pleasant, but we’re married.  I’m here to help ya shoulder the burden of the unhappy things.  You do that with me.  Let me do that with you.”

              “No promises.”

              “Oh, Stan,” Angie sighed.  She shook her head.  “What am I goin’ to do with ya?  Ya need to be willin’ to be more emotionally vulnerable.”

              “No, I don’t.”

              “Yes, you do.  Especially if my suspicions as to why ya brought up this kid at school what looks like yer twin are correct.”

              “Can’t pull the wool over your eyes.”

              “Nope.”  Angie leaned back, crossing her arms.  “Now, either confirm or deny my theory.  Why’d ya bring him up?  More specifically, why’d ya bring up the fact he looks so much like yer twin brother?”

              “All right.  No beating around the bush.”  Stan took a deep breath.  “I think he’s Ford’s son.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Did I confirm or deny?”

              “Confirm.”

              “Figured.”

              “Do ya have any other evidence supportin’ this idea?”

              “Yes.”

              “Really?” Angie said.  Stan nodded.  “I’m interested in hearin’ it, then.”

              “When I realized there was a kid at school who looked just like Ford and even had the same name-”

              “Wait.”  Angie held up a hand.  “I thought you said the kid was named Stan.”

              “It’s short for Stanford.  So is Ford,” Stan explained.  Angie steepled her fingers thoughtfully.  “What?”

              “Yer parents named their twin sons Stanley ‘n Stanford.”

              “Yeah.”

              “Sweet sarsaparilla.”

              “You don’t have any right to talk about names, Banjolina.”

              “Ugh.  Fair.”  Angie waved her hand.  “Continue.”

              “Anyways, when I realized this kid looked like Ford and even had the same name, I asked Shermie if he’d heard from Ford recently.  He said he hadn’t, but that he would check with Mom.  Mom told him Ford hadn’t called her in almost two years.”

              “Huh.  Unless that’s typical of him, I’d consider that to be rather concernin’.”

              “Apparently, he called Mom every week, unless he was too busy.  But he always called her at least once a month,” Stan said.  Angie nodded slowly.  “So, yeah, concerning.  He was doing research in some town in Oregon called Gravity Falls when he dropped off the face of the Earth.  Guess where the kid at school was found.”

              “Gravity Falls?”

              “Bingo.”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “I just- it can’t be a coincidence!”

              “Stranger things have happened,” Angie mumbled.  She frowned.  “Is yer twin the kind of person to abandon his son?  When you’ve mentioned him ‘fore, you’ve said he was abandoned.”

              “No.  Ford’s not the kinda person to just leave his kid and skip town.”  Stan looked down at the floor, a sudden tight feeling in his chest.  “At least.  Not the Ford I knew.  I think- Shermie said that Ford was doing research in the woods in Gravity Falls.  I think Ford probably brought his kid on some hike with him.  Something happened to Ford, but his kid got away and was found wandering around.”

              “Research?  What kind?”

              “Dunno.”  Stan paused.  He looked at Angie.  “Do you think it’s relevant?”  Angie shrugged.

              “Could be.  Was a missin’ person report ever formally filed fer yer twin?”

              “Shermie said Mom called the cops after a year without anything from Ford.  The cops didn’t see anything suspicious at Ford’s place, and some lumberjack and his wife said they were looking after the place while Ford was gone.”

              “Then the answer is no,” Angie said.

              “I think so, yeah.  The lumberjack and his wife made it sound like Ford would be back eventually.”

              “I get the feelin’ these cops might not be stellar at their job,” Angie said idly.  She smirked.  “Love it when the pigs are incompetent.”

              “Moses, Angie, I’m trying to be serious, and you’re saying something stupid sexy,” Stan said playfully.  Angie laughed.  “I agree, though.”

              “About the cops in Gravity Falls bein’ bad or that cops what don’t know what they’re doin’ are the best?”

              “Both.  I mean, this kid at school, his last name isn’t even Pines!  I bet the cops misheard him or something.”

              “Or that’s the last name of his mother,” Angie suggested.  Stan rubbed his chin.

              “That’s possible, yeah.  Ford’s not a relationship kinda guy.  Maybe this kid was from a one-night-stand or something and the mom dropped him off with Ford.”

              “Did anyone in yer fam’ly suspect yer twin to have a child?”

              “Uh.  No.  But even though Ford called Mom all the time, he didn’t tell her much.  Just that he was eating well and getting exercise.  And honestly, I don’t blame him for wanting to keep a kid secret from her.  She’d go nuts and make it a whole thing.”

              “I see,” Angie murmured.  Stan scowled at the expression on her face.  She wasn’t convinced.

              “You don’t believe me.”

              “It’s not that I don’t believe you.  I just think it could all be a coincidence.”

              “Ang, you don’t get it!  This kid is a frickin’ genius like Ford and seriously, he looks just like him.  Extra fingers and everything!” Stan protested.  Angie blinked.

              “…Pardon?”

              “What are you pardoning?”

              “Extra…”

              “…fingers.  Yeah.  Probably shoulda led with that, huh?”

              “Holy horseradish.”  Angie leaned in, excitement suddenly sparkling in her brilliant blue eyes.  “Stanley, you’ve got a twin brother what’s a polydactyl?”

              “Is that the fancy science word for extra fingers?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded.  “Then yes.”

              “That’s astonishin’!  In what way is he a polydactyl?  Ya said extra fingers.  Is it a fully formed, fully functional extra digit?” Angie asked intently.

              “Yeah.”

              “Is it his pinky finger, his thumb, or one of the middle three?”

              “I don’t-”

              “And ya said fingers, plural.  How many extra does he have?”

              “Two.  One on each hand.”

              “Are his hands symmetrical?”

              “Yes.”

              “Golly gee.”  Angie shook her head.  “That’s- okay, polydactyly ain’t exactly common to begin with.  But most polydactyls don’t got a full extra finger, they got an extra nubbin.  And then addin’ perfect symmetry on top of that?  That’s an incredibly rare case!”

              “The doctors said something like that when we were kids,” Stan mumbled.

              “Does polydactyly run in yer fam’ly?  Do either of yer parents have it?”

              “No.”

              “Then it must be an in utero mutation-”

              “Angie,” Stan said firmly.  Angie stopped mid-sentence.  “I love it when you get all excited about science.  But we need to focus.”

              “Right.  Right.  Sorry.”  Angie smiled sheepishly.  “It can be dif’cult to turn off biology mode sometimes.”

              “Since Ford’s…polydactyly is such a rare kind, does that help my case, since the kid at school has it the same way?” Stan asked.  Angie frowned thoughtfully.

              “The fact they share a rare version of polydactyly, to me, ain’t as significant as the fact they share bein’ polydactyls of any sort.  Polydactyly has what we call variable expressivity.  It can show up a lot of dif’rent ways, and just ‘cause two folks who have it are related, it don’t mean they’ll have it in the same way.”

              “Huh?”

              “Think about it this way,” Angie said.  “I got blonde hair, right?”  Stan nodded.  “And so do two of my brothers.  But only one of ‘em has hair the same shade as mine.  Same sort of principle applies to polydactyly.”

              “You’re dumbing it down for me, aren’t you?” Stan asked.  Angie tilted her head one way, then the other way.

              “…Maybe.  But it helped ya understand what I was gettin’ at, didn’t it?”

              “It did.”

              “Good!  So, sharin’ the exact same kind of polydactyly don’t necessarily mean relation.  But sharin’ polydactyly in general could!  It’s pretty rare and generally dominant, so assumin’ yer twin is heterozygous fer it, any offspring of his would have a 50% chance of bein’ polydactyls too.”

              “So you’re saying…”

              “I don’t think yer barkin’ up the wrong tree,” Angie said.  Stan felt tension he didn’t know he was carrying leave his shoulders.  “We can reach out to Stan’s foster parents and ask to get in touch with the CPS officer in charge of his case.  Let ‘em do their own investigation and see what happens.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan ran a hand through his hair.  “Okay.  We’ll do that.  And if it turns out this kid, Stan, if he’s actually Ford’s son…”

              “We do what we need to become foster parents,” Angie said quietly, “and we take him in.”

              “Ang…”

              “It’s better fer kids to be placed with fam’ly when possible.  And since yer already close to the boy, it’d be the easiest adjustment fer him to stay with us.”  When Stan didn’t say anything, Angie cocked her head.  “I know that was what ya wanted to do when ya started this conversation.”

              “Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting you to agree to it so quickly.”  Stan managed a weak smirk.  “Guess I didn’t need to butter you up after all.”

              “Now, who can say whether that cheese on my pasta was the determinin’ factor?” Angie teased.  “Speakin’ of…”  She turned back to her dinner.  “Dr. Whiskers!”

              “Darn it, cat, don’t eat that!” Stan snapped, shooing the cat away from the bowl of pasta it had already made a dent in.  Dr. Whiskers meowed plaintively, hopped off the coffee table, and sauntered away.  “Ugh.  I’ll get you a new one.”

              “We should prob’ly try to teach Dr. Whiskers to stop eatin’ our food,” Angie said idly as Stan got up from the couch.  “That ain’t the first time he’s pulled this.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan looked around.  “Where’s the spray bottle?”

              “I think I put it in the bathroom after we finished with yer trainin’,” Angie answered.  When Stan got hired as a teacher, he recruited Angie to help him stave off his habit of swearing so that he didn’t upset any parents by letting a four-letter word slip.  The method Angie went with was unconventional, to be sure, but effective.

              “Still can’t believe you sprayed me with water any time I swore.”

              “It worked, didn’t it?”

              “A little too well,” Stan muttered.  He didn’t even really swear at home anymore.  “Wonder if we can use it if the kid causes trouble.”

              “No,” Angie said immediately.

              “What, you can spray me but you draw the line at a kid?”

              “Yes.”

              “Huh.”  Stan grinned at Angie.  “I knew you were mom material.”  Angie smiled.

              “And yer goin’ to make an amazin’ father.”

              “Damn straight,” Stan said firmly.  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “…Darn straight.”

[bapydemonprincess]

A Comparison

"So... Wot's it like?" Mey quietly brought up.

Bardroy was sitting cross-legged looking over the newspaper and was not looking up.

"Wot's wot like?" He answered, monotone, unbothered.

"Y'know..... y'knoooow...."

....

Bardroy looked up, not at her but out into space, as his bushy old eyebrows practically flattened over his eyesockets.

He sighed.

"No, I don' know, Mey," He went on, "please, by all means, explain wot the 'ell yer tryin' t'ask."

"Ohhhh," He heard the young woman groan. The same type of frustrated noise she made when she'd make a big mess on accident.

"Y'know exactly wot I mean, you do! Don't try an' deny it now, Bard!"

"Well, there could be a dozen or so things you could be referrin' to, Mey, an' I'm up in arms, knowin' if I get it wrong you'll be even madder, so-"

"YOU AN' LAU, BARD!!!"

Mey had shot up from her seat, making the old wooden chair groan obnoxiously as it was pushed back, while she banged her fists down on the old wooden table out of pure unbridled frustration.

"...."

"...."

Mey, frozen in her table pounding pose, was turning red.

Bardroy slowly tilted his head. Slowly. Verrrry slowly. To look at her from the corner with one very knowing eye.

"Wot about us, Mey,"

His tone had changed to demanding, if subtley.

He wanted her to elaborate now on this.

...

Or else.

"O-Oh, I- I mean-.."

Mey Rin looked ready to shrink to the size of a mouse, straightening up at once and both hands curled in and pressed at her mouth.

"I-I.. I just... w-wondered, is all.. H-How you two... how.."

Bardroy sighed louder, and straightened up himself. Uncrossing his legs, he turned to throw the newspaper onto the table after he'd sloppily folded it back up.

"Mey, fer th'love of christ, do I even look like I can go into details 'bout that sorta thing?! C'MON now!"

And even his face was getting red. Maybe even more than hers!

"O-Ohh, I'm sorry, Bard, I really am!!" Mey cried, and looked down at her hands as she started twiddling her fingers as she carried on rambling.

"You guys have been together for goin' on two months now, you 'ave, so.. s-so I figure that was long enough that you'd be all nice and comfortable with talkin' about those things, you would... Like.. L-Like how me an' Sebastian are, you know?? I mean, I wouldn't go on about it with any old person I'd just met, no I wouldn't, but-"

"'OLD ON NOW, WOT THE 'ELL ARE YOU GOIN' ON ABOUT, NOW??"

Bardroy roared as he interrupted the maid's monologue about... her and Sebastian's own affair for some reason...??? He hadn't the faintest why she'd say such a thing.. even if to one of the servants!!

Mey Rin blinked as if waking from a daze.

Then promptly gave him a look.

"W-What d-do you mean what am I goin' on about, I- I'm talkin' about our courtin' an' the cuddlin' an'-an'... y'know, all the lovey stuff couples do!!!"

She looked so offended that he'd interrupt her explanation and not understand why she was curious about his own current standing with his lover!

Bard just blinked, frustration becoming bewilderment... and then turning into what must be even MORE embarrassment.

Oh christ this girl... THAT'S what she was askin'?? THAT??? N-NOT... WHAT I THOUGHT...

Bardroy once again turned away in his chair, hunched in all the way, and shoved his face into both his hands.

FEELING the BURNING of his RED FACE.

"...Bard...??" Mey asked. Just.. confused now.

"Bardroy, Mey, it's time to end your break n-"

Sebastian took a step into the kitchen, only to get a very peculiar view of Mey Rin standing up, slightly reaching over the table as if hesitantly wanting to touch Bard. And Bard.. was hunched in with his hands covering his face. Which looked all red for some reason...

Had the American been weeping or was he embarrassed??

"Did something... happen here?" The butler cautiously asked.

"U-Um, well.." Mey trailed off as if she wasn't sure...

And Bardroy sighed.

"Nope. Not a thing. Justa... lil' misunderstandin'..."

But the redder and sweatier his face became, the more Sebastian had a feeling it wasn't so little.

[voidthewanderer]

Private: 5 Arsenic x Crow. Hier sind Kekse (lol).

@bleumanouche || Location Based Smut Prompts

Private #5: bent over a table while something bakes in the oven. 

Sorry this took so long! Gaming brain worms took over!

So, fun fact, this was almost a scenario that these two were nearly in before the war. Crow is the baker of the couple and Arsenic was just... very horny about this exact scenario happening for some reason? Like, it's been a scenario that's played out in his head way more than he'd ever admit. Some plot stuff for their story too. I just don't want to keep putting it off because it's taking me forever to write A Different Life.

MDNI🔞: 18 + CONTENT UNDER CUT Word Count: 1,857

All was quiet when Crow was able to sneak down the stairs of the house. It’d been a long time coming, them finally getting a house of their own within The Slog. Yeah, it wasn’t large by any means, a little two story; two bedroom, one bath. But, it was still something. It’d been the first home Crow ever actually owned and they wanted to do something special to sort of christen the home. The first thing that came to their mind? Bake a cake.

It wasn’t going to be anything big; they’d taken on of the seven inch pans from the main kitchen to make a little cake just for them and Arsenic. Hell, it probably wasn’t even going to be anything fancy. Knowing their partner? He’d try to turn it into some sort of sexual tease. The thought made them snicker to themself; that had been a big part of the start of their relationship. Crow had taken an avid interest in baking while still in school, though never went further than advanced optional classes. They just didn’t have the money to go to college for anything like that. The overall humor too of a chef and a baker ultimately winding up together; two very clashing styles having to share a single kitchen.

Arsenic never really bothered them too much when they’d bake in the apartment; just little teases here and there. His favorite extremely overused joke? Why not pass the time and get something else baking? It only made it funnier to their vehement desires to keep that child-free status, but it was still the same joke almost every single time.

“You’d make a good dad with those god awful jokes.” Crow’d always return with. It was worth it to get to see him flustered and stumble over his words, almost always muttering something along the lines of “Didn’t mean it like that…” The redness that crept across his face as he tried to hide his almost embarrassment for falling for that trap every single time.

He hadn’t made jokes quite like that in a long time, especially since they’d finally taken that plunge into that stage of their relationship. Granted, at the time, there was only the communal kitchen, but regardless… Crow did miss that joke in particular a bit. Perhaps it had just been the tone in his voice, the humor of the irony of it…

They didn’t want to dwell on the thought too long, knowing it would ultimately wind up upsetting them. Thankfully, it was still fairly early in the morning, Arsenic was still asleep. Nobody, outside of the guards, were awake (or rather should have been). Crow made sure the curtains were still drawn before getting to work, dry ingredients in one bowl, wet in other. The careful combining… making sure it wasn’t overworked, but that any clumps were broken up… Getting the oven preheated during the whole process.

It had been nice to be able to get the cake batter actually made up and prepped without having Arsenic hanging off of them. They knew he really did want to better his own baking skills, but they just wanted to bake out of the joy of the art, not to teach. They hadn’t even realized that they were being watched from across the room as they bent over to put the cake into the oven; nearly jumping out of their scarred skin when their spectator gave a whistle.

“Arsen! God damn it, I’m not exact-”

“Dressed? Yeah, I can see that,” he chuckled, “What, nude bakin’ a new thing ya tryin’? ‘Cause I’m gonna want front row seats from now on.”

“I just didn’t feel like getting dressed, I’m not messy when I bake and I’m careful around the oven when someone isn’t scaring the crap outta me.” And the curtains were still drawn, so it wasn’t like there were any prying eyes.

They set a timer, finally looking over to Arsenic. He’d cleared the room quickly, pulling them into a brief twirl before trapping them between the counter and his own bare frame. They were only able to make a soft noise as he quickly connected his lips to theirs, his hands releasing the counter and going to wander their frame. They pressed their hands up against his collarbone, lightly pushing upward. He took this silent request easily, his hands hooking their thighs as he lifted them to be seated onto the counter, breaking the kiss for a moment, “First mornin’ in th’ house an’ we’re bein’ a couple a horny fucks, ain’t we?”

“No,” Crow tapped the tip of their finger to the ridge of Arsenic’s remaining nose, “You’re being a horny fuck. I’m baking a cake.”

They watched the smirk form on his lips, them already starting to laugh, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“Wanna get somethin’ else bakin’ in th’ meantime?”

“I mean, you can try as hard as you want, don’t think anything’s gonna be baking in there anymore.”

Crow noticed the falter in his smile, their own fading, “Oh… oh honey…”

“I mean… We didn’t want ‘em… Just… kinda hits different when it ain’t possible anymore.”

“And thoughts can change, you know that,” Crow locked their legs around his waist, pulling him close so they could kiss his good cheek, “I’m not gonna lie and say I never thought about it. You made the same joke every single time I’d bake in the apartment. Eventually the brain worms were gonna happen. My sister didn’t help either.”

Arsenic pressed his lips to the side of their neck, a small, content sigh sounding from the smaller ghoul. They let out a whimper as they felt his teeth lightly rake along their skin. He shifted enough to be able to look at them, his smile returning as he watched their face slowly shifting from their content pleasure back to a more neutral expression. Crow cupped his face in their hands, lightly brushing their thumbs along his jawline, “Never said you couldn’t try though. Just because it can’t happen, doesn’t make the thought or actions any less enticing.”

He chuckled, one hand shifting to rub against them; him watching them tense slightly before biting their lip. There was caution in his movement, first only just rubbing his rough fingers against them. They tucked their chin towards their neck, shutting their eyes for a moment before letting out a quiet, “Please…”

They’d barely finished the word when they felt two fingers press inside of them; slowly pumping them inside as best as he could given their positions. Crow took a sharp breath at the feeling; this wasn’t something they frequently did. Arsenic was definitely more of an oral sex person for non-traditional sex, but this was also good. He never had to finger them long, something about the action rising a quick, small climax. He savored feeling their pussy clenching around his fingers as they let out a whimper with pleasure.

“Arsen…”

“Easy…”

He pulled them from the counter, glancing to the timer for a moment. He’d been surprised that only five minutes had passed… twenty five minutes was more than enough time for what he wanted to do. Crow went easily with Arsenic’s movements, following him easily to the kitchen table. He chuffed softly lightly pressing their belly against the table, “Haven’t done it like this in a long time…”

“Don’t think we’ve ever been like this,” Crow hummed, bracing one arm against the wood as they felt Arsenic’s hand cup against their hip. He chuckled, “No… don’t mean I haven’t before.”

“Arsen.”

He was quick to bury his cock inside of them, a shaky whimper escaping their lips. He kept his thrusts steady, a careful eye on Crow, making sure he didn’t get carried away. He watched as they took a soft breath, pressing back against his hip every so often. He arched over Crow slightly, free hand gripping a breast as he pressed his lips to the back of their neck, “Fuck… you’re so beautiful.”

“Keep going…”

“Pace yourself.”

A small squeeze and his hand slowly slid down their belly, resting on their midriff. He pressed himself completely inside, finger lightly tracing the small mound that pressed outward, “Fuck, I love this. Wonder if ya did it before ya went ghoul.”

“Oh fuck…” A small moan followed Crow’s words, bowing their head down, other hand bracing against the table. Arsenic chuckled softly, giving a particularly rough thrust. They let out another moan, arching themself up against Arsenic’s chest. His hand shifted once more, arm bracing against their shoulder.

The new position made him ease slightly, though, he was much more preoccupied with Crow themself. A hand lightly touched his, fingers curling around his own, guiding the limb towards their throat. He gave some resistance, trying to redirect their energy with a rough thrust. They bit their lip, “Please.”

“Not. Yet.”

“I want to try.”

“I said no.”

He pulled his hand down, gripping their chest once more, lips pressed against their neck. His teeth grazed their leathered skin once more. He felt their breath quicken, pulse racing. Lips still pressed against their neck as he spoke, “I just want you right now…”

“Which you have…”

“No kinks… no perversions… just… you.”

A thrust in and he felt their legs shake slightly with pleasure. Another thrust was met with a whimper, Crow pressing back against Arsenic. His voice was a low croon in their ear, “There we go…”

“Oh, Arsen…”

A tongue lightly brushed along their ear, lips pressing just behind the cup of it. Emotions flooded the smaller, rolling their head back into Arsenic’s shoulder as they let out a rather loud moan. Arsenic tried his hardest to keep himself steady in his final moments, savoring the moment when he finally released. This moment wasn’t something he’d wanted to end… The emotions that rushed through both of them… it felt so much more than anything he’d ever felt before.

He pressed his forehead against the back of Crow’s neck, taking a breath before moving slightly to kiss it. They made a soft noise as his lips brushed against their skin, going to rest against the table. Arsenic carefully pulled himself away from his partner, lightly running a finger down their spine, watching their muscles twitch as his finger hit each ridge, “Fuck, I wish I could get some more meat on you…”

“You like it,” they gave a soft laugh, taking a breath before slowly going to stand upright. He hummed, “I know… but still. Know what happened an’ all… Sucks that I can’t.”

The timer went off for the oven and Crow couldn’t help but laugh, “Certainly didn’t feel like it was that long.”

“’M not sure I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Arsenic laughed as well. It had been just about thirty minutes. Crow popped up onto their tip-toes to kiss him, “Compliment. If that’s what it takes for thirty minutes to pass, I’ll take it any day.”

A hand splayed across their belly before snaking around their waist, “An’ I’ll be glad t’ give it t’ ya.”

[theothermaidoftarth]

I was tagged by @gwenllian-in-the-abbey. Please keep these writing tag games coming, they’re so fun! 

How many works do you have on AO3?

3 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

56,829

3. What fandoms do you write for?

House of the Dragon/Fire and Blood/ASOIAF

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I only have 3 fics so far and from ascending to descending order, the kudos count is: Sorrow, The Favoured, and Song for Evermore

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. I like to engage with my readers, especially as I’m not writing niche areas so don’t get very many (the reason I dusted off this tumblr a couple months ago, in fact). So I like to show my appreciation of their appreciation

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Sorrow, sort of. It’s just angsty all around (poor Baela)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It has to be a tie between The Favoured and Song for Evermore — they have the same ending in the sense that both sets of couple have gotten together and have the world ahead of them

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven’t on ao3 (ff.net though…)

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes. Non-explicit (not too sure how to answer this one, haha, I’m not big into the smut scene generally #justacethings)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t on my ao3 (unless blending book! and show!canon could count)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Daeron “the Daring” Targaryen x Baela Targaryen — I’ve said it before on here but they are my reverse gender Braime! And (book!)Brienne x Jaime is hands down my top otp of all time, in any fandom

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Not related to a published fic (yet). But an ASOIAF au where Brienne of Tarth was born into House Baratheon, canonical blonde looks and all. I’m a massive Brienne fan and I wanted to see what would happen if I took her and made her one of the foremost ladies in the realm, in the public eye even more than other noble ladies due to being the king’s sister after Robert’s Rebellion. And how I could do it while retaining as much of her canon personality as possible, and incorporating the inevitable butterfly effects of a blonde Baratheon girl born while Aerys was on the throne. Such fun. I have about a third of it written and sort of know how I want to finish it but I’ve stalled majorly on the middle parts of the story — the butterfly effects are quite something to wrangle through and make a reasonable, logical plot out of. As such it’s been sitting in my notes for about two years (long before HoTD aired which I mention as some people in-world in the fic believe Brienne is a bastard and she’s compared to the Strong boys — she’s one hundred percent trueborn but genetics just kinda let her down: she looks like a blend of various relatives, and does look like her parents but, aside from eye colour, build and height, the resemblance is subtle and overlooked by most). It was originally supposed to be a oneshot (story of my life). Something tells me I should just write and post that oneshot but I do like the expanded themes that I’m able to explore in a multi-chapter (which is why I have so many unposted, half-finished wip multi-chaps in general clogging up my notes, and why I mostly write and post oneshots). Right now I’m working on a long oneshot which follows the basic premise but takes one of the Brienne pairings from it in a different direction to the original. So an AU of an AU. (The pairing is Brienne x Willas Tyrell for anyone interested.)

16. What are your writing strengths?

My character work. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Being concise. I sometime ramble a little as I get into the character’s head too much and so it takes away from the plot sometimes, from the punch of the dialogue, so I’m trying to improve on that while still keeping the gist of what I want to convey

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I do not usually (as I’m far from fluent in High Valyrian) but if I was writing from a real-world language, I would give context clues as to what was said nearby.  As a reader I’ve always found it confusing and immersion breaking to see untranslated dialogue in the body of the text, especially if there isn’t a translation provided in the endnotes. So I don’t like to do that myself since I like to write what I’d like to read.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

House of the Dragon (ff.net is a different story)

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Song for Evermore. I just wanted more show!Baela appreciation (and honestly more depth to her as a character since hotd so far is not it) and I was intrigued by how Daeron could be introduced and incorporated while keeping relatively to show!canon where he hasn’t even been mentioned once. I wondered why that was in-world, and how things would change if he had been introduced in s1 — the boy described as the gentlest of Viserys’ sons, the one who was charming and kind but not a leader and with a dash of darkness beneath the surface, pulled out when those he loves are in danger. What were the family dynamics at play around him, both in the Red Keep and Oldtown? How would his presence potentially change things? 

Add in my love of crack/rare pairs and my idea (and word count, haha) snowballed from there. I didn’t incorporate or fully develop every idea or headcanon I had as I’m saving that for other Baela fics, in particular another Baela/Daeron fic and I didn’t want to be too repetitive (though since they are in a hinge poly with Aemond in the other one, things are already quite different there, that’s for sure).

Tagging: @richardsthirdnipple @mejcinta @daylander1000

I’m not sure who else writes on ao3 who hasn’t been tagged already by another mutual (which happens so much with tag games, so I never know who to tag, haha) but whoever hasn’t been and wants to participate, feel free to tag me in your post! 

[blkkizzat]

Hiii babes <33 I'm back with another long message bc i cant shut up so buckle up ig hsjsjs

Not the hand in the panties reading the Naoya fics LMAOOO bc deadass me on this blog soooo…. When i say i had 2 minutes until my morning alarm while i was reading plug!choso and i turned that shit off and went back to reading like, the all nighter was worth it!! It's the weekend so im deadass trying to re-read it again and take it in properly now that im not sleep deprived hehe

FRRRR the nicki quote like deadass im tryna be someone villain origin story LMFAO. Nahhh because it's always the cheating fics or virgin reader fics that are phD level written and i can Not read those personally lmaoooo. I got too much fire in my chart to deal with that bullshittery 😭

No bc why do i kinda love unredeemable reader??? Like yes girl be on ur thot shit AND get the man !!! It's fiction!!! Pop out!!! Istg every time i think of that scene in plug!choso where she humiliates him and its deadass 'everyones watching her but shes looking at you' Like choso is soooooo down bad and MY GOD HDJDKSK like he didnt care what anyone thought he just wanted a lil luvin from herrrr, istg when i read that i was instantly transported into the story and like in chosos pov and i felt everyone laughing around me and staring and pointing, in my lil emo get up while everyone else is in their polos and mini skirts and just like lookin at reader with so much yearning and expectation like bih I FELT THAT!!!! My head gets so cloudy when i think of that scene tbh like i feel like it actually happened to me!! Ngl i think its bc i was sleep deprived so i was already on some loopy shit and i was still thinking about it up until the point i took a nap so i feel like i dreamed i was in the story??? Like i went to sleep w it on my mind and then it played out like a movie 😫 plug!choso indeed bc that fic feel like a HIT

Big yes on gojo being an introverted extrovert. I feel like if he's not careful it can ruin his self esteem too where he doesn't let himself properly be happy or have the things he wants yk?? Like deadass carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder and its more self inflicted than anything. Like NO he doesnt want to swim in pussy, he wants someone to go home to who will make him sweets and give him lap pillows and play with his cheeks and remind him to wash his face before bed!!! Stg im out here tryin to beat the fuckboy gojo allegations by printing out otaku!gojo on printer paper and dropping it off door to door so everyone can read the TRUTH 😔. Im campaigning that ishh

Okay but the bonnet x anime shirt fit is such a vibe too?? That's what u wearing when toji bring home the hitman salary and is like "go get dolled up kali we goin out to eat tonight, n wear them lil black gloves i like" 😚 i can get behind the kalji (??) agenda lmfao. Tbh toji was the jjk character i seen when he first came out bc my shithead ex was a japanese otaku boy but like actually an incel jsjsjsk ANY.WHO! yeahhh i like my 2d men to be virgins bc im on the 'first, last, best pussy u ever had agenda' shrugs they dont call me cherry nonie for nothing!! But toji hot as fuck like id def smash at least once to say i did before hopping over to shiu hehe. But deadass i always do so well with the playboys and the jerks bc i got that 'angel until you give her a reason to bite' genetic. Wise as a serpent, harmless as a dove 😙 but men stay tryin me so the serpent do be takin over sometimes lmfaoooo

Nooo pls its so much fun talking to u like im sorry for clogging up ur dash and this obnoxious ass long ask lmfao!!! I'm prob gonna send another ask so you can reply to that one without my long ass paragraph on ya blog bc u the main star baby 🥰🥰🥰

Hope u enjoy ur weekend!!!! Im all tucked up in bed and bursting at the seams bc plug choso here i come!!!! Again!!!!

🍒 anonnn

🍒 my pookies! Sorry for the delay im just starting to feel like a normal person rn lol. 

Omfg tysm tho, ahhh not you losing sleep 💗😭. Im really tryna make p3 good for y’all so I really do hope y’all will like it lol. I gotta get it over to be beta read soon cause I have two endings and im not sure which one to keep lol, they aren’t different its just where im choosing to end it that is lol.

LOL omfg no fr. Like im a cancer but baybay my mars is in Aries so I don’t take no shit and definitely not from none of these men out here (especially too cause my Venus is in gemini so im already going to be bored of a man lol. Im not gonna sit around and be cheated on lolol). Also omg you into horoscopes too? I love my natal readings they are so accurate imo.

Yeah! Idk I wasn’t event trying to necessarily  make reader irredeemable but I do like making characters with flaws. Not that I don’t enjoy a good fairytale type perfect damsel reader fic (because those give the warm and fuzzies) but I also love the idea that no matter how big a bitch/meanie/etc you are that whatever person you are really supposed to be with will end up seeing past that and inspiring you to bring out the best in you. Like reader in plug choso a people pleaser and dating choso even on the dl was probably the first thing she’s done for herself that wasn’t part of a “plan” to live up to others expectations. Ahh not you dreaming about it, im so jealous (legit never dream about the stuff I write I want to so bad haha). But I’m so ecstatic that it really did connect with people. LOL I remember saying when I made this blog I wouldn’t write angst but I also think I was thinking of angst where the reader gets screwed over.  I really enjoyed putting Choso through hell (lmfao I mean he’s just so babygirl I need to be a lil mean to him, love to see those tears 😫).

LMFAO! Not you spreading the gospel of otaku!gojo. Haha but I feel you. Even as a confident adult who would come off playboy he’s still a big dork underneath that. Which reminds me I have a CEO!Gojo/guest!professor Gojo fic with MBA!Reader. He comes off as a charismatic playboy but he a dork lol. 

“N wear them lil black gloves I like” AHHH I SCREAMMMED. Im wearing the gloves and NOTHING else we aint making it out the house!!! We can just fuck on top of the money lmfao. But I love a gown. I buy all my gowns from this site called ‘miss circle’ and the more casual ones from ‘mistress rocks’. Yasss tho it’s kalji! 

LOL I do like some virgins like otaku!gojo and my lil chosito but I like that Toji a hoe cause im definitely going to be talking to him crazy as hell. “Bring me that dick big daddy slut.”

No it’s okay!! I like talking with you you’re funny haha so drop by anytime!

LOL im in bed too hungover but im feeling better so imma start on plug choso p3, send me good vibes!!! You have a good weekend too!! 💕💕

[pennzance]

Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 18)

Episode 18: The Lightship

September 30th, 1998

Incident report by Jeremy

For the record, I thought Bryan was going to be the one writing this report. He’d probably have a much more comprehensive and detailed account of what the hell exactly just happened, but Mr. Kaye insisted I write this one because Bryan is going to write the next one and it was apparently ‘my turn’? I don’t know, company guidelines are weird.

So… Port Huron has a ship that doubles as a museum, in keeping with the theme of this city that almost anything worth visiting is about the past. It’s a little annoying, and the museum itself is cramped and confusing. Lightships were big a long time ago, I guess, when they were used as sort of mobile lighthouses on the great lakes to keep larger ships away from shallow spots like sand bars and shoals.  The Huron Lightship was retired in 1970 and had served for 50 years by then, and is now loaded with models, pictures and plaques trumpeting the accomplishments and usefulness of these pre-satellite GPS wonders.

As you may be able to tell, I am not a fan. Of boats in general, really. It’s not that I get seasick, it’s just not… new enough for me, y’know? I like technology and boats are old, analogue stuff. Aside from our Proton Packs and PKE Meters, the most high-tech thing on that ship was probably the light on top.

Be that as it may, though, we were there for a reason. Bryan and I went out on a call of some strange lights and noises, a normal call. It was dull compared to some of our more recent hijinks, but we started picking up a PKE signature near the captain’s wheel. Bryan frowned and tapped his meter a few times.

“Dan?” he said out loud.

And then the pirate ghost of the hospital was just… there. Right there, sitting in an old rocking chair that looked like it had always been there. Like HE had always been there. Spectral and see-through like the last time I saw him, but humming what I could only assume to be a sea shanty and reading a book.

“Took ye long enough,” Dan grunted, not looking up from his book.

“How is he here? I thought he was haunting the hospital!” I hissed at Bryan, but Dan looked up and grinned through his beard.

“I go where I please, kiddo. Now, let’s talk about why yer here.”

“WE are here to bust a ghost,” Bryan snapped.

“Nah, yer here cause I called ya. In a roundabout way, ta be certain.” Dan shrugged, standing up. His book and rocking chair were just not there anymore. “I got a favor ta be askin’.”

“Does he HAVE to talk like an old timey pirate? I thought he was a US Marshal?” I asked Bryan.

“Ah, sussed me out, did ye?” Dan chuckled. “Then I can cut ta th’ chase. I’ve got a job ta do, an’ yer gonna help me.”

Bryan frowned. “What job?”

“Ye heard about me, sure enough, but have ye heard of Captain Hatchet?” Dan asked, a knowing eyebrow cocked.

“Bane of the Huron natives, yeah,” Bryan nodded. He looked at my confusion and kept going. “When Michigan was colonized in the way back when, the colonials did a lot of nasty crap to the indigenous people-“

“I know about that, I’ve seen Addams Family Values,” I cut in.

He blinked. I’ve seen Bryan make that face a few times, when he gets confronted with information he doesn’t really know what to do with. He ignored it. “Captain Archibald ‘Hatchet’ Fitzsimmons made a career out of butchering the natives for bounty money from the freshly landed gentry on the east coast. This wasn’t long after the Revolution, and it was nasty and evil business.” He turned to Dan. “I take it you two have met in the post-living spaces of the world?”

“Crossed his path when I was a younger lad,” Dan shrugged.

“He was still alive?” Bryan asked incredulously. “He’d have been well over a hundred!”

“Didn’t think ta ask how old he was when he was tryin’ ta skewer me,” Dan replied flippantly. “Alls I know is puttin’ that old shark under the waves was one o’ th’ most noble things I’d ever done. I stuck with piracy fer a while, to be sure, but I went straight eventually. Some descendants of the Huron even gave me a boon, a life after death style o’ thing. There was a ceremony and they sorta… immortalized me. Part o’ me, anyway. As a protector.”

“Let me guess,” Bryan said, rolling his eyes, “guarding against Hatchet’s return?”

“Got it in one, kiddo,” Dan grinned.

“And he’s coming back?” Bryan pressed.

“Yer on a roll.”

“Wait, wait, wait, so some evil pirate ghost is coming back, and you want our help to get rid of him?” I asked, catching up.

Bryan scoffed. “Not sure you can pay our fee, Dan.”

The pirate-turned-marshal smiled. “Look, ye help me get rid o’ HIM permanent like? I’ll go willingly into yer little trap after that. No more trouble from me, see?”

Bryan mulled this over for a while, giving me a look. I shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “When is this happening? We’ll need time to get our team together.”

Dan shrugged. “It’s not like the tide, kiddo. All I know is he’s a comin’. When he GETS here… well, that’ll be as obvious as th’ nose on yer face. I’ll help as I can but be warned: it ain’t gonna be an easy fight.”

“Oh, great. Thanks for the specifics. Lay low until then, all right? Last thing we need is the phone ringing off the hook because you scared some poor museum patron.”

After that, we went back to the office and told Mr. Kaye what happened. He took it more seriously than I thought he was going to. He even called up our part-timers and told them to be ready.

I don’t know what comes next, but I need to go make sure our equipment is up to spec. And waterproof. Definitely waterproof. Wish me luck.

End of report.

[angelamajiki]

Damn that Bully Dabi and Hawks fic was an amazing read! I love it when you write them full on bastard mode!

Pro Hero Bakugou sexually harassing his weak quirkless secretary who does her very best at her job. She's good at it but Bakugou always looks mad (read: sexually frustrated). High on success after a good rescue, he wants to celebrate....

OR

Cop Bakugou sees a pretty little thing outside a club. She looks sus so he decides she needs a pat down. Maybe he'll plant something to blackmail her into doing certain favors. Very bully, very bastard Bakugou.

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Bakugou x Secretary! Quirkless! AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, dirty talk, choking, cunnilingus, overstimulation, scumbage bakugou, use of the word rape, quirkless reader, size difference, age gap, death threats, sexual harrassment, bullying, mindbreak, masturbation, office sex

AN: I’ll probably write the cop Bakugo at some point too! For now, mind the tags and enjoy :)

They say to never meet your idols and in retrospect, you wished you would have listened.

Try as you might, it seemed like Mr. Dynamight was never satisfied with your work. Admittedly, you joined his agency as his office secretary based on having a crush on the pro, but you assumed his brash nature would calm down in an office setting. You did everything he asked, obediently followed his every word, which was all met with harsh glares and what you thought were dissatisfied grunts.

Surely you thought it wouldn't be about your being quirkless, but rumors were high strung in the office about the blonde’s feeling towards those without quirks. It would explain the harsh glares and judgment he passed on you despite your work effort.

The man even went as far as to ask for your personal phone number, only to leave scathing voicemails whenever you couldn't show up to work or miss out on work gatherings he put together. You couldn't help but flush at the thought of him missing your presence. Maybe you were just bad at reading his signals? Or maybe he was just hell-bent on bullying you more than the rest of the staff.

The job paid very well, so you couldn't exactly up and leave based on his behavior. However, you did notice how...handsy Mr. Dynamight has become with you. It was subtle at first, brushing shoulders in the hallways, letting his fingers ghost against yours when he handed you paperwork.

It soon escalated to always having a hand on your shoulder, holding your hips when he had to brush behind you, towering over you from behind your chair when you showed him something. You couldn't say that you weren't flattered, but his rough demeanor remained.

It started becoming uncomfortable when he made passes at you, making sure you were cornered and alone when he did.

“C’mon, am I really that fuckin’ intolerable that you can't get lunch with me, pipsqueak?”

You assumed that he was just messing with you, so you always turned him down with a flushed face and ran back to your desk, leaving him blue balled and more desperate by the day. There's no way a pro hero like him would actually be interested in someone quirkless and weak like yourself.

But that's the reason why he liked you anyway. So small, so weak, so obedient, so perfect for him to fuck up. God, if he didn't want just to rip your tiny pencil skirt to threads and spear you on his cock like no tomorrow. A pretty thing like yourself shouldn't be working. No, no, no. You should be at home, in his home in his bed with his ring on your finger. You belong to him, don't you see that?

Katsuki only ever gives you the time of day, not those other stupid bitches who crawl up his ass every morning trying to get a crumb of attention. And what do you do with his precious time? Waste it. Always whining about how you really shouldn't, that he shouldn't be seen with someone like you. As if he gives a fuck about what the media has to say.

He even checks up on you when you're not at work! Isn't he such a gentleman? Sure, he's a bit vulgar, but he's trying to show he cares. But if you want to act like a stuck-up bitch, then he’ll gladly treat you like one.

After a particularly tough fight with a villain, the blonde wanted nothing more than to use and abuse you to get some steam off his chest. It was late, but he prayed to whatever gods were out there that you were still in the office. He left you a voicemail for good measure, hoping that you would do what you always did best and stayed obedient for him.

It was locked up for the night, but he could see your office light on from the street. Perfect. Such a good girl for him. Little did he know that you stayed late quiet often.

You hadn't even seen his previous call come through; you were too busy listening to an old one with plenty of derogatory terms being spat your way. A hand shoved in your skirt, you couldn't help but finger yourself the sound of his voice calling you moronic for skipping out of work. Mr. Dynamight was your childhood crush after all, you had jerked off to plenty of interviews of him in the past. Sure, it was creepy but no one had to know. The older man was so big, so strong and handsome. You couldn't help but feel fuzzy from the voicemail, even if it was degrading you, it was for you alone.

Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Well, shit. Whadda we have here, pipsqueak?”

A rough chuckle came from behind you as he pulled your desk chair out and swiveled towards him.

“Caught ya red-handed, huh? Who knew you were such a little slut for me.”

Taking the phone from your hand, he hung it up on the receiver and took your hand out of your panties. He snatched your fingers greedily in his mouth and sucked your wetness off of him.

“You know what, I’m feeling a bit hungry. And you taste like something in the vein of what I’m tryin’ to have for dinner.”

Katsuki devoured you in a hungry kiss, lifting you out of the chair and onto your desk. He tossed aside the papers messily and spread your legs to see your slick moistening your sheer tights and panties.

“Bend over and spread that fuckin’ pretty pussy for me, pipsqueak.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough by being caught with your pants down, literally.

“That wasn't a question, that was a command, you bratty bitch. What happened to your manners?”

God did his words stir something deep inside you. Waiting was no longer a priority; catching you like this was proof enough in his mind that you were just playing hard to get.

“You should consider yourself lucky that I want you to sit on my face, you know that? I have bitches trying to get on my dick every day, but it only gets hard for you, pipsqueak.”

“I-I thought you didn't like quirkless people!”

“It's all the more reason I want to be balls deep in your cunt right now. So weak and pathetic, it's fucking cute.”

You could feel yourself tighten around nothing just at his words. He was right, you were just a pathetic plaything for him. Not hesitating any longer, he ripped off your skirt and threw it behind the both of you. Your tights also got ripped to shreds, leaving you in your blouse and panties.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He muttered, mostly to himself as he took your panties off and pocketed them. For later, he thought.

Katsuki didn't hesitate to spit on your already wet cunt before diving into his meal. Each stroke of his tongue sent fire straight to your core, each suckle of his lips drew a whimper from your mouth. Hips bucked into his mouth before he held them down, using just one hand to cover your torso. So small and petite for him, how cute would you be up against his massive form.

“M-Mr. Dynamight!”

“Heh, so fuckin’ cute. Call me Katsuki, sweet thing. Or daddy, if you're nasty like that.”

Your hips were held taught against his face, not allowing you to squirm or inch away from his searing tongue fucking your hole. He continued to ravage you with his mouth, pulling away only a few times to give your pussy a nice spank. Groaning into your cunt, he stroked himself at the same time.

Humiliation had dissolved into pleasure as he serviced you, tears springing in your eyes as he gripped his head tightly with your hands and thighs. Having already masturbated before getting caught, it didn't take long for him to make you see stars and roll your eyes into the back of your head.

“K-Katsuki, I’m cumming!” You shouted, squirting onto his tongue as your body shook around his head. Your fingers threaded deeply into his hair and tugged as he continued to work his tongue into your hole, riding out your orgasm.

He didn't stop, though.

“Too much, it's too much!”

“I’ll stop when I’m finished, little girl.”

You tried to push his head away, but he gripped your wrists from under your legs and had you pinned against his mouth, shaking and screaming from overstimulation. Once he brought you another good nut, he pulled away and gave your clit a kiss, chuckling when you jumped.

Standing up, he pushed his mask up to pull his back and took his rock-hard cock from his pants. He spat on your dripping hole once again before lining up his fat head with it.

Katsuki hissed as he sank himself into your cunt, holding your hips in place as you whined and squirmed under him, still overly sensitive. God, were you gripping him in all the right ways. Your legs around his waist, your hands on his forearms, and your cunt around his cock.

“Relax, pipsqueak, or I’ll end up breaking you.” He chuckled. “But you might like that, huh?”

Seeing your teary, fucked out face while teasing you? He nearly jizzed himself on the spot. But he had to hold out for you. A choked gasp was all you could respond with as he got right in your face, breath tickling your cheeks as he looked in your eyes.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off to the sound of my voice. It's better in person, isn't it?”

“D-Daddy!”

Was all you could whine as his thumb made his way to your clit, drawing slow, gently circles with his roughed-up finger.

“Oi, oi, oi, did I break ya already, pipsqueak? Y’know, you coulda just asked for my cock like a good girl if you were gonna get this drunk off it.”

His hips slowly drew back, almost pulling out all the way before slamming back in, earning a squeal from you.

“Or maybe you wanted me to take you by force? Show ya what the fuck happens to quirkless little girls who tease their fuckin’ man so much that he just has to come and take their little cunt to show ‘em who’s boss, eh?”

You couldn't help but tighten around him from his words, squirming under his hot breath as he started to grind his hips up into yours slowly.

“Good girl, letting daddy rape your cunt so willingly.”

Katsuki chuckled, sealing a hot kiss on your mouth while he gripped your throat. His hips began to piston in and out of your pussy, thick veins grinding against your spongy walls.

His brutal kisses swallowed your moans and tears while he squeezed your throat. His other thumb continued to swipe against your clit in fast motions, causing your to clamp down and flutter against his thick cock.

“Shoulda known you were a whore from the start, wearing those skirts that hugged ya in all the right places. Bending over and letting me touch you how I pleased, it's like you wanted this to happen.”

The pace of his thrust increased as he started to chase his orgasm, holding your throat and hips down to use you like the hole he knew you were. He growled and snarled into your mouth as he choked you, even more, watching the blood flood to your face.

“Yeah, baby, I've got your life in my hands now. If you won't be mine, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Then nobody can have you.”

“Y-Yours! I’m yours!” You managed to gasp out, gripping his forearm and digging your nails into it, hoping he’ll let you up for air

“Damn straight, now cum for me, you quirkless little bitch.”

The haziness from the lack of air and the pleasure pooling in your gut sent you over the edge a third time, making you cry out his name as you came. Katsuki was right behind you, eyes screwed shut and practically foaming at the mouth as he came deep inside you, finally letting you breathe once he finished himself off.

You sputtered and coughed, desperate to fill your lungs with air as he pushed some stray hairs out of your face.

“Ya did good, pipsqueak.”

He praised, giving your ass a spank before pulling out and tossing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“You’re coming home with me, so don't worry about the mess.”

“By the way, you're fired.”

TAG LIST: @tomurasprincess @suzuki-violin-school @sightoru @alrunemara

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 7,362 Pairing: Teenage!Daryl Dixon x Teenage!Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: mainly pre-outbreak Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse, violence A/N: Angsty and fluffy and angsty and fluffy! AGH! Summary: Daryl and Y/N are close growing up. Y/N knows about his bad home life and worries when Daryl doesn't show up at school one day.

Your name: submit What is this?

You were kicking a rock down the road, humming some stupid song you’d heard on the radio, when there was a familiar voice from behind you.

“Hey.”

You turned and grinned, knowing immediately who it was before you even saw him. “Daryl,” you said warmly. “Hey.”

He had his hands shrugged into the pockets of his secondhand black jeans. “What’re ya doin’?”

You laughed and shrugged. “I dunno. Wasting time. Kicking rocks.” You tucked your hair behind your ear and took him in. You could tell immediately that something was bothering him. “You okay?”

How did you always know? Even when he was trying his hardest to hide it, you always knew. “Yeah, just—” he chewed his bottom lip in that anxious habit he had. “Water got shut off again. My old man didn’t pay the bill.”

Your expression turned a bit sad and you nodded. It was mid-summer and the Georgia heat and humidity was suffocating. They never had air conditioning at the Dixon house, but no A/C and no water was a big problem. “Come on,” you said, tilting your head in the direction of your house down the street. “You want to come hang at my house for a while?”

Daryl considered your bright and open expression and then nodded. “Thanks.”

You nodded. “Of course. C’mon. My momma is workin’ the night shift so she won’t be home until God-only-knows-when. Ya can stay as long as ya like,” you said. Daryl fell into stride beside you.

“Thanks,” he said again.

“Sure.” You nudged him with your shoulder playfully. “Ya want me to help you with the Algebra homework?”

He rolled his eyes at you. “No.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl. You’re way smarter than you think. If you’d just try—”

“Why? Ain’t like I’m gonna go off to some big fancy college like you,” he said, kicking a rock along. It skipped on the gravel and stopped in front of you.

“Ya could. If ya wanted to,” you said, hitting the rock again with the toe of your boot. It went skipping along the road in front of you again.

“How the hell would I pay for that?”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “There’s financial aid. Scholarships.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t no college givin’ me a scholarship the way my grades are.”

“That’s why I said try,” you replied gently.

“Nah. Ain’t happenin’.”

You always felt so sad when Daryl talked about his future as an inevitable dead end. You knew he wanted to get away from his drunk asshole of a father and you also knew that he had plenty of reasons why he couldn’t focus on his schoolwork. Hard to focus on class when you’re wondering when your next meal or beating is coming… But you saw so much brilliance in him that he refused to see in himself. You decided to drop the subject for now and simply glanced over at him. His blue eyes met yours and you gave him a small smile. “Ya hungry?” you asked, kicking the rock down the road again.

He avoided your eyes again but nodded. “Always. That even a question?” he drawled.

You turned onto the driveway of your house and soon climbed the steps, pulling open the front door and nudging your head toward the cool interior. “We’ve got chicken pot-pie in the fridge,” you said. “Ya can have the rest of it. I swear, it’s the only thing my mom has been buyin’ lately.”

A short time later, you were flopped down watching TV while Daryl sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the front of the couch. His empty dish was sitting on the coffee table and you jumped up and grabbed it as a commercial came on. “Ya want some more?”

He looked up at you and one corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Nah. I think three helpings was enough,” he said, pushing his dirty hair out of his face. “Thanks…” he said, a little more bashfully.

You nodded. “Sure.” Daryl climbed to his feet and followed you into the kitchen. He watched you set his dishes in the sink and then fill up two glasses with ice water, putting one down in front of him. He felt your eyes on his face and glanced up to meet them. “You wanna clean up while you’re here?” you asked.

He shook his head and glanced back down at the glass in his hands. “Nah. S’alright.”

You prodded him gently. “Ya sure? It’s not a big deal. I can wash your clothes and you can shower. I was gonna do some laundry anyway. Probably have somethin’ you can wear til they’re dry. Promise it ain’t a sundress,” you joked. You glanced at the clock. “We’ve got some time to kill before tonight’s terrible monster movie comes on anyway,” you said brightly. That was your thing; watching old monster movies from the ‘50s and ‘60s. You weren’t even sure how it had started, but it was just what you did together.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He hazarded a glance back up at you. He was always so grateful for how you saw him, looked at him. Your expression never suggested anything other than open acceptance and genuine care. Finally, he nudged his nose up at you. “Alright. You win,” he said, downing the rest of his ice water quickly. “Let’s go pick out my sundress,” he said, eliciting a laugh from you.

Daryl followed you upstairs and you grabbed a clean towel for him out of the linen closet. “Hang on a sec. I’m sure there’s something in Brody’s room you can wear.” Your older brother was away at college. You returned a moment later with some clean clothes and thrust them at him. “You know where the bathroom is. Since I will puke if I eat any more pot-pie again this week, I’m gonna make popcorn. Just put your dirty clothes outside the bathroom door and I’ll throw ‘em in the wash.” You turned to head back downstairs and Daryl found himself watching you go until you disappeared.

“Hey, don’t watch the movie without me!” he called after you.

“Well then hurry up!” you called back up. Daryl smiled.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A short while later, you and Daryl were side by side on the couch. His clothes were tumbling in the dryer and now that he was clean, he realized just how dirty he had felt before. You were both munching on some popcorn from a huge bowl sitting between the two of you on the couch. Daryl always teased you about how much you made at once.

“Christ, are ya eatin’ this for your next four meals?”

You would pull a face at him. “No. Just for dinner. And knock it off or you don’t get any.”

Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the damsel in distress on screen run from some deep woods swamp creature, your knees pulled onto the couch and bent underneath you to the side. “I don’t understand this—if somethin’ is chasin’ you why would you run in a straight line, completely visible!? At least take a turn every now and again! I mean, look at all that thick brush she could disappear into!”

Daryl let out a small laugh. “That’s what your problem is? There’s a 9 foot tall, muck-man chasin’ her and that’s what ya take issue with?” he drawled.

You turned and gave him a manufactured look of annoyance and chucked a handful of popcorn at him, eliciting a gruff laugh. “You know what I mean!” you said. You heard the washer stop spinning and went to change the laundry over into the dryer, chucking one more handful of popcorn at Daryl as you got up.

“Hey!” He brushed the popped kernels off his shirt. “Ya know I’m gonna retaliate eventually and it’s gonna be much worse!” he yelled after you.

You laughed as you started the dryer. “Oh, I’m real scared! What’re you gonna do, Dixon?” You appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with your arms crossed over your chest and not looking the least bit intimidated.

“I’ll think of somethin’,” he said. “C’mon. Movie’s back on.”

You rushed back to the couch and moved the popcorn bowl onto the coffee table, sinking down in the empty space now beside Daryl.

He couldn’t stop glancing over at you and he felt suddenly fidgety, chewing on his bottom lip and practically having to sit on his hands to keep them still. Luckily, you didn’t seem to noticed, and it wasn’t too much longer before you laid down on the throw pillow at the other end of the couch, curled up with your eyes still on the screen. And not much longer after that before Daryl noticed you were asleep. The first movie was over, and some old rerun of The Blob was no playing.

Daryl noticed goosebumps on your arms and wondered if you were cold from the A/C vent blowing overhead, just in your t-shirt and shorts. He grabbed a quilt from the chair nearby and tried to cover you up without waking you.

But you stirred as soon as you felt the fabric on your arm and sat partially up, blinking awake and meeting his blue eyes, which seemed care-free for once and brighter than expected in the dim light from the television screen. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Was tryin’ not to wake ya up.”

You sat up all the way, clutching the quilt over your lap and looked up at him. “Thanks. What time is it?” Daryl glanced over at the time on the VCR.

“S’late. I should go… Let ya get some sleep,” he said.

“Oh, your clothes,” you said, climbing to your feet. You went to the laundry room and grabbed his freshly cleaned clothes from the dryer. “Go ahead and get changed and just leave those in the bathroom.”

While Daryl was changing, you went to the kitchen and filled up a water bottle with ice and cold water from the tap. He came out, looking much more like himself now that he was out of your brother’s old shorts and t-shirt. “Here,” you said, pushing the water bottle toward him. “In case you get thirsty on the walk home,” you said giving him a small smile.

He gave you a long look and seemed like he was on the edge of saying something, but he couldn’t get the words out and simply nudged his nose up in a nod at you. You always thought of the littlest things to make his life less shitty and did them for him without hesitation. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing the bottle. “I’ll give it back to ya tomorrow.”

He started toward the front door and you followed to walk him out.

He turned on the entryway rug, his hand on the handle. “Hey, tell your mom ‘thanks for the food’ when you see her in the mornin’, okay?”

You nodded. “Sure thing. You walkin’ tomorrow?” You already knew the answer. He always made the half hour walk to school, and you did it together most days.

“Duh,” he said, one corner of his mouth flicking up. “Ya comin’?”

“Duh,” you returned with a wide smile. Daryl felt his heart jump.

“Alright. See ya then. Thanks. Night.” He pushed out onto the porch and you caught the screen door as he ran down the steps.

“G’night,” you called after him. He turned and waved one last time over his shoulder and then he was gone into the still darkness outside. The cicadas seemed to grow louder as you stood there, and it was a fitting soundtrack to the immediate rise in your anxiety after Daryl disappeared. They seemed to grow so loud they were almost defeaning. You always worried about him when he went home. There was no way to know whether his dad would be passed out drunk or waiting up angry. You knew sometimes Daryl would just wait outside in the dark until he could either sneak in through a window or until he was sure his father was asleep or too drunk to move. Your heart ached. You wished more than anything that you could just fix it. He deserved so much better… You were always amazed that his heart still was so good considering all the bullshit he had been through, losing his mother and their home, his brother running off, and all the shit he was still going through. Sure, he could be angry and moody at times, but who wasn’t at your age?

Finally you sighed and closed up the house, heading upstairs to try and catch some sleep before school the next day.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were finishing packing lunch when your mom came down, still in her scrubs from the hospital. “Morning, mom,” you said. She came over and gave you a hug and left a kiss in your hair. “How was the shift?” you asked, grabbing a banana off the counter.

“Oh, just the usual. Nothing exciting. Lots of old people.” She was a nurse and always worked the night shift. She yawned and grabbed a mug and put on the tea kettle. “I’m exhausted. Mr. Jones came in again needing to be back on oxygen. Pneumonia again.”

“Oh, no…” you said, glancing at her. “Did he throw things again this time?”

She let out a wry laugh. “Of course he did! Nearly took my head off with a damn bed pan.”

“Seriously?! I hope it was empty!” you exclaimed, and you both dissolved into laughter.

“Luckily, it was. Or I would not be in such a good mood this morning… What’d you get up to yesterday? How was school?”

“School was fine. Daryl came over for a while. We watched some terrible Swamp Thing movie of course,” you said.

Your mom laughed and opened the box of tea and grabbed a tea bag. “You two. I do not understand your obsession with those monster movies from my generation,” she said.

“I dunno. They’re funny. Anyway… I gotta go. Gonna meet Daryl to walk to school.” You kissed her cheek and grabbed your things. “Love you! Get some sleep!”

You rushed to the spot where you and Daryl usually met up to walk to school, but were surprised to see that he wasn’t there. He was always there waiting before you. You dropped your bookbag, checking inside to make sure you had grabbed your lunch and the second one you always packed for him… And then you waited. And you waited. And waited… But there was no sign of him. And now you were worried. Maybe he’d gone ahead for some reason? He had never done that before. But soon you knew that if you didn’t leave, you’d be late for class, so you hastily scribbled a quick note on a sheet of notebook paper and left it under a rock at your meeting spot before heading to school.

You looked for him as you made your way through the halls to your locker, but you didn’t see his familiar silhouette anywhere. And he wasn’t in any of the classes you usually had together. At lunch you couldn’t focus on any of your friends’ conversations because you were so busy worrying about where the hell he was…

Over the course of the day, you felt sicker and sicker. You made sure to grab materials for him in all the classes you had together so he could get caught up on what he missed, and by the time the final bell rang you were determined to see him and make sure he was okay. You hastily waved goodbye to your friends and started the walk home, but instead of going straight there, you paused at the meeting spot where you usually met Daryl and saw that the note you had left that morning was still sitting underneath the rock. You collected it and shoved it hastily into your pocket. You stared up the dirt road that led into the woods and to the Dixon house. You took a deep breath in and tried to hold onto your courage as you turned up the path.

It was strange how the trees seemed to insulate from sounds of the outside, but amplify everything taking place inside the woods. You startled when a crow let out a raspy caw and took off nearby, the beating of its wings so loud in your ears that you could hear the hurried rush of the air through its feathers. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you came at last to the muddy driveway that led up to the dilapidated little trailer house. The ‘No Trespassing’ sign burned red in your peripheral vision as you carefully picked your way between the puddles and deep mud, trying not to sink your shoes into it up to your ankles.

You gulped and hesitated at the front step, but you forced in a breath and knocked.

Your heart was racing and you could feel your pulse in your fingers and toes as heavy bootsteps and cursing sounded from inside the house. The inside door was yanked open and an imposing man stood there, separated from you only by the thin screen door.

He glared at you, his lips almost curling into a sneer immediately. “Didn’t you see the goddamn sign?! Get the hell outta here! I don’t want whatever the fuck you’re selling!” he growled. He was tall and lean, but looked powerful and you gulped, suddenly thinking that maybe this wasn’t a great plan…

“I’m—” you had to clear your throat. Your voice came out quiet and somewhat strangled the first time. “I’m not selling anything, sir. I’m—I’m a friend of your son. Is he here?”

Mr. Dixon let out a scoff and never quit staring at you like he could snap at any second and come rushing through that screen door. “My boy ain’t got no friends. He’s too damn worthless. You got the wrong house,” he said, turning to slam the door already.

You weren’t sure where you got the courage from but you quickly shouted to stop him. “I don’t have the wrong house, Mr. Dixon! I’m—I’m a friend of Daryl’s. Please. Is he here? I just have some, um, school work for him…”

He stared at you again for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. They were sharp. “He ain’t here.” You were sweating with nerves under his gaze. “You goddamn women are only good for one thing, and I know he ain’t man enough to be getting any tail, so I don’t care why you say you’re here, but it ain’t no good reason. Now get the fuck off my property!”

You felt your face burn, some combination of anger, humiliation, and shock at being talked to that way by a grown man. You decided to try one last time. “Are you sure he’s not—”

Daryl’s father kicked the screen door hard and it flew open violently. You jumped back and let out a small scream of surprise and fear. He stepped out onto the stairs, his hands clenched into fists, and you could see that he was wavering a little on his feet, drunk, but also shaking with rage. “I got a goddamn shotgun sitting right inside here and I won’t be waitin’ much longer to use it unless you get the hell outta here right now!”

You quickly turned tail and ran, not caring at all that you were sloshing through muddy puddles up to your shins on your way back onto the dirt road and away from the house. You ran all the way back to the spot where you and Daryl usually met up before collapsing onto the grass. You shut your eyes and pressed your hands over your face for a moment. “Shit… shit.” It suddenly occurred to you that maybe going there had been entirely the wrong move. What if going to his house and asking about him got him in trouble? What if you had just endangered him more than he already had been? You felt tears burning in your eyes and blinked them away, popping back up onto your feet, which were squishing in your mud-soaked socks and shoes, and you trudged the rest of the way home.

It had felt like the longest evening of your life. You’d drifted around your house, hoping Daryl would come bounding up the porch steps at any moment, ready with some sarcastic comment or that quick twitch of a smile. But he didn’t. You knew your mom usually took a break around 8 pm, and you called the hospital, needing to hear her voice.

“Hi, honey. Is everything okay?”

You anxiously bounced your knee, feeling like you were about to cry again.

“…honey? Are you okay?” Now there was worry in your mom’s voice too.

“I’m—I’m okay. It’s just—Daryl wasn’t at school today… We had planned to walk together and he never showed up, and then—he wasn’t in any of our classes…” you trailed off. Your mom knew Daryl’s home life was bad, but you’d never told her how bad. Daryl had made it clear plenty of times that he didn’t want you telling anyone—not your mom, not the school counselors, not his teachers, not the cops, no one.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You twirled the phone cord anxiously around your finger, winding and unwinding. “Well, maybe he was just sick today,” your mom offered.

“Mom, Daryl doesn’t get sick.” You chewed your bottom lip. “When Daryl gets ‘sick’ it’s because—because stuff at home has gone really wrong.”

Her silence on the other end of the line was heavy until she finally sighed. “I wondered. I mean, I’m a nurse for Pete’s sake. It’s not like I didn’t see the signs. Oh, honey… and how could anyone ever lay a hand on that boy? He’s got a heart of gold.” Her voice was low and sad.

“I know… What—what do we do?”

“I suppose, unfortunately, we just have to wait and see if he’s back tomorrow. It’s only one day… If he’s not at school tomorrow, you tell me and I will deal with it,” she said. “Try not to worry yourself too much, hun. I’m sure he’s fine.” But her tone was half-hearted and you were unconvinced. Your stomach twisted as you thought about more endless hours of waiting ahead. “I gotta get back to work, sugar. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good night at work.”

“Love you,” she cooed.

“Love you too,” you said. You hung up and your house had never felt emptier.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come, when you thought you heard something on your window. Your first thought was that a cicada or other insect had flown into the window. It was a small plink sound against the glass. But when it happened again, you shot upright in bed. And then it came again. You rushed over to the light switch and flipped it on and then went to the window and pulled back the curtains.

You could barely see a familiar silhouette by the dim glow of the porch light. You hastily pushed the window open. “Daryl?”

“Hey.”

“Just—just hang on! I’ll come let you in!” You raced downstairs and clicked on the hall light, unlocking and throwing the front door wide open. He was standing on the steps and you could see that one of his eyes was almost swollen shut and was surrounded by angry bruising. “Oh my God.” You felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. “Daryl…” you stepped back to let him in.

He strode in past you, ducking his head a bit. “Yeah. He’s usually pretty careful about hiding ‘em. Guess his hand slipped on that one…”

You closed the front door and locked it again, turning to take him in. Daryl watched your eyebrows knit together and form a deep worry line in your forehead. The next second you had thrown your arms around him in a hug, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “I was so worried about you!”

You heard him let out a strained exhale, a wince really, even as his hands landed on your back and he hugged you back. You pulled back suddenly and Daryl’s hands slipped onto the bare skin of your upper arms. “You’re hurt worse?” you asked him, looking up into his bruised face.

His hands dropped from you and you both lamented the break in contact. Daryl ducked his head again. “M’fine. What the hell were you thinkin’ comin’ to my damn house? Are ya crazy?” But you could see that he was almost smiling as he said it.

“I was thinking that I needed to know you were okay,” you said, turning and leading the way into the kitchen, flicking the light on as you went. “You heard that?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding. “I was—I couldn’t get to ya.”

You nodded, your expression sad and overwhelmed with worry. “Your dad is…”

“A bastard,” he said, sinking down onto one of the chairs at the table. “Ya. I know. M’sorry ya had to go through that.”

You looked at him with consternation. “Are you kidding? You’re apologizing to me? Daryl…” You went to the freezer and grabbed out a bag of frozen vegetables and wrapped it in a clean dish towel. “Here. Put this on your face,” you said.

Daryl mumbled a thank you and pressed the makeshift cold pack over his eye. He was wearing a black t-shirt and as you stood beside him you noticed some dark spots on the material. You gulped. “Daryl…”

“Hmm?” he glanced over at you and saw that your eyes were fixed on his back. His stomach twisted. “S’nothin’,” he said.

You gave him a skeptical and deeply concerned glance. “Let me see,” you said gently.

He dropped the ice pack from his eye again and hesitated for a moment, nervously licking his lips and bouncing his knee. He trusted you, more than anyone, but this was still hard… Finally, he set down the ice pack and grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it off over his head, wincing as he moved.

When the light cotton was pulled clear, you saw that his entire torso, his ribs, his sides, his back, all a cruel dark purple with shades of black and blue. Across his back were raised lashes, some open and bleeding, the reason for the dark spots you had seen on his t-shirt. He sat there with his eyes turned down and his shoulders slumped forward.

You couldn’t help it. The tears just started streaming out as you looked at what had been done to him.

“Hey,” he said, turning toward you a little, hearing your hitched breathing. His blue eyes landed on your face, took in your desperate expression. “S’alright,” he drawled softly.

Those words only made the tears pour out faster. “I should be saying that to you—” you managed. “But I don’t even know if that’s true. Daryl, you can’t keep livin’ there with him. He could kill you one of these times.”

He gulped. He knew you were right. Of course he did… “Where the hell am I supposed to go? Run off and find Merle? Go into the system? Because you and I both know neither of those are gonna work.”

You hastily wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Here. You can come here. I can talk to my mom—”

“Nah. Nah, ya’ve already done enough for me. Ya do enough. Christ, Y/N, ya pack me a damn lunch every day. I eat dinner here more nights than not.”

“It’d be fine! My mom loves you! And—and so do I,” you said quietly. You felt nervous flutters in your stomach. You’d never told him that before, but it was true.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to your face again and he gulped.

“You’d be safe here. And taken care of the way ya deserve to be,” you said.

Part of him wanted that more than anything. He wanted to agree and escape from the shit life he was living in that shit house with his shit father. But the idea of being a burden, and he truly believed that’s all he would be, the sense that he wasn’t worth it was so engrained in him that he rebelled against that other part of him that wanted to reach out for help, for escape. He avoided your glassy eyes again and shook his head. “I can’t,” he said, with no small amount of effort.

You felt like your heart was breaking. “Why not?”

He wouldn’t look at you. You just wanted him to look up at you. You wanted to see his blue eyes and convince him. But he wouldn’t. “I just can’t…”

“Daryl—”

“No! It—it ain’t your job to save me, alright? And I ain’t—I ain’t your burden! Just leave it alone.”

“You’re not a burden.” You tried to swallow the tightness in your throat but it didn’t work. You sniffled and wiped the tears from your cheeks again. You’d pushed him enough. You let it drop. “Is he gonna know you’re gone?”

Daryl replaced the ice pack on his swollen and bruised eye. “Nah. He’s on his next bender now. He’ll be so drunk he can’t see straight for at least the next few days.”

You nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you patched up and somethin’ to eat,” you said quietly. You filled a glass with ice water and grabbed the lunch you had packed for him that day from the fridge, setting them down in front of him at the table. You grabbed his bloodstained t-shirt and murmured a soft “I’ll be right back.”

After throwing in some more laundry, his shirt with it, you climbed the stairs and retrieved the First Aid kit from under the sink in your bathroom. You paused for a moment, leaning heavily on your hands, gripping the edge of the basin so hard your knuckles were white. You glanced up at your pale and somewhat wide-eyed expression and wiped a few more stray tears away, steeling yourself. You needed to just be strong for him. You knew he was trying his hardest to hold himself together and you going to pieces wouldn’t help anything. You’d spoken your piece and there was nothing else to do at that moment besides care for him.

You came down with a pile of supplies and dumped them on the kitchen table next to him.

Daryl seemed frozen, still as stone, holding the ice pack to his eye and occasionally drinking for the glass of water you’d given him. You grabbed a washcloth and wet it with some alcohol. Daryl twitched a little as your fingers landed lightly on his bare shoulder.

You withdrew for a moment after he startled. “Sorry,” you said, replacing your hand gently. “This is gonna sting,” you said.

“Can’t be worse than it is now,” he said quietly.

You could tell his wounds hadn’t been tended to at all and it took you some time to carefully clean the dried blood from them, dabbing gently at the raw skin and cuts. You worked in silence and Daryl nervously bounced his leg and spun the water glass on the ring of condensation it had shed onto the table.

After you were satisfied that they were clean, you grabbed some ointment and spread it over the entire length of each as gently as you could. Your stomach twisted as you stepped back and took in the whole view of his wounds and bruises. “Alright. Done.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Here. Take some of these,” you said, putting a bottle of Advil in front of him. “I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain.”

You moved around in front of him and sank down on a chair, sighing. Your brow was still knit and Daryl read the worry still on your face. “M’alright,” he said.

You shook your head. “No. You’re not.” You paused and grabbed the makeshift ice pack, replacing it in the freezer before nudging your head toward the staircase in the hall. “C’mon. You’re stayin’ here with me tonight.”

Daryl’s brow quirked down and he briefly chewed his bottom lip. “…Why?”

“Because it’s safe. And I just can’t let you go back there. And you need real sleep and we both know that you won’t get that if you’re under the same roof as him.”

Daryl considered your determined expression and finally nodded. “Alright.” He stood up, wrapping an arm around his ribs as they ached when he moved, and followed you up the stairs. You flicked the lights off as you went.

The door to your bedroom was standing open and Daryl hesitated at the threshold as you pulled the blankets back on your bed. You tossed an extra pillow down next the one already at the head of the bed.

Daryl gulped, nerves at the thought of staying with you so close all night suddenly overwhelming the aches and pains running through him. “I’ll take the floor,” he drawled.

You shot him a quizzical look. “You’re not taking the floor,” you said. “You’re covered in bruises. Come on. You take the other side. Just shut the door behind you.”

After shifting his weight a bit nervously for a moment, he finally crossed the threshold and shut the door softly behind him. You settled down in bed, heaving a sigh as your head hit the pillow. Daryl gingerly laid down on the other side, facing in toward you. His eyes met yours as he settled in, wincing a little as he moved his arm up under the pillow. You were close together, your faces merely six inches apart and Daryl could see your eyes flitting over his face.

“Ya sure this is alright?” he drawled quietly. “Yer mom…”

You shrugged. “She won’t even know. It’s okay.”

Daryl licked his lips absently and nodded.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Daryl looked puzzled.

“It’s not fair,” you went on. “That someone as good as you has this happening to them.”

Daryl gulped nervously again, your words kindling a rush of heat in his chest which seemed to spill into his face. “Ain’t yer fault.”

You nodded, looking a bit sad, but beautiful in the warm glow of the single lamp on your nightstand. You turned and clicked it off, and maybe it was the darkness that gave you the courage to, but you reached over and found Daryl’s hand with yours in the dark and slipped yours beneath it, pressing your palm to his.

Daryl felt his stomach flip with surprise but he thrilled at the grounding touch from you. For once stopping himself from overthinking it, he laced his fingers with yours, and soon both of you were asleep.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Some years later

“Don’t fucking move.”

Daryl froze, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth.

“Put your hands up where I can see them. Away from the bow.” The voice belonged to a woman and despite the tense and potentially dangerous situation he now found himself in, Daryl felt his stomach flip, seemingly responding to the voice peculiarly.

“Stand up.” Daryl obeyed and stood up slowly, in disbelief that he hadn’t heard whoever the hell this was approaching in the almost silent woods. That left him feeling particularly curious and a little uneasy. He didn’t like that anyone was able to sneak up on him… “Now turn around. Slowly.”

Again, Daryl complied, his hands still up, turning slowly to face toward the woman holding him at gunpoint.

But neither him nor you expected the person in front of you and you felt a tug somewhere behind your navel and the muzzle of your gun dropped involuntarily just as your mouth fell partially open. You felt like the air was ripped out of your lungs as you took in the familiar face in front of you. “What the hell?” The words fell from your lips without you even knowing it. But you would recognize those blue eyes anywhere. You lowered your gun the rest of the way. “D—Daryl?”

He finally dropped his hands his eyes narrowed and intense. “Are ya gonna shoot me?” he drawled. His voice was deep and gruff and you felt goosebumps rising on your skin. One corner of his mouth flicked up in the same way it always had back when you were kids.

You gulped, your hands still on your pistol. “Do I need to?”

He let out a gruff laugh. “Nah. I dun think so.”

You holstered your gun, still paralyzed, your boots seemingly rooted into the soil.

Daryl was the first one to move. He rushed over to you and hugged you almost desperately, but you were still in such a state of shock that by the time you moved to return it he was already breaking away. Your eyes were searching as you looked at him and he just peered back at you with that classic Daryl Dixon stare.

“S’real fuckin’ good to see you, Y/N,” he said. He bent and picked up his crossbow, swinging it over himself and onto his back in a fluid and well-practiced movement. He tilted his head at you. “Why the hell did ya stick me up, hmm?” he asked.

You snapped yourself out of your reverie, actually shaking your head slightly. “Uhh—My camp is near here. I don’t like strangers,” you said absently, still unable to trust your eyes that this man standing in front of you was the boy from your past. “Daryl—” You weren’t even sure where to start but you suddenly felt a swell of anger. “Daryl, what the fuck?” you demanded.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

“I—I thought—you just—you left! You were just gone!” Before you knew it there were tears spilling out onto your cheeks and your anger was rising. “What the fuck!?” you yelled at him. You rushed toward him and pushed him hard in the chest. He simply took it and staggered backwards. “Why did you do that?! You didn’t even say goodbye to me! You didn’t tell me you were leaving, you didn’t tell me anything! You just—you were just gone! Do you know what I thought? Do you have any idea?!” You shoved him again and still he just took it and stepped back to regain his balance. “I thought maybe you were dead!” The tears were pouring out more quickly onto your cheeks and you reached out to shove him back again, but this time he gently caught your arm and held it. His eyes were soft and you crumbled underneath them. “I thought maybe you were dead. I thought your dad—” you gasped in a heaving breath.

“M’sorry,” he said. You stared at him, fighting emotion. “M’sorry,” he said again. He gently tugged you closer to him and you allowed it. “M’so sorry.”

You fell into him and felt his arms wrap around you as you squeezed your eyes shut. “M’sorry, Y/N,” he whispered to you. His hands flattened out on your back and smoothed over it and he held you until were able to stop yourself from crying. You straightened up, hastily wiping the tear streaks off your cheeks.

You laughed a little wryly at yourself. “This is so stupid. I’m—I’m crying over something that happened over a decade ago,” you murmured.

“S’cuz it still feels like it just happened yesterday. Ain’t stupid,” he said.

You took him in for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You brought Daryl back to your camp and you both did you best to catch the other up one what life had been like since those hazy summer high school days. Most of it didn’t seem to matter anymore now that the world was what it was—all nightmarish and broken. But there was one question you had to ask him as you sat by the campfire that night.

“If you could do it over,” you hesitated, “would you do the same thing?”

“Hmm?” he hummed, a questioning noise.

“Would you just leave, like you did? Or would you do it differently?”

Daryl considered you quietly for a long moment. He had always thought you were beautiful and that hadn’t changed. He had always known you were kind and smart and caring and funny… and that hadn’t changed either, despite the hell around you now. And he still felt like there was a string, a golden thread that led from his heart to yours, tying the two of you together, and that still felt connected. It had never been cut. Not after all the time and all the distance. “I ask myself that just about every day. Think about ya every day,” he said, feeling a bit bashful under the gaze of your brilliant eyes. He turned back to stare at the crackling fire in front of you both. “I dunno if it woulda turned out any better or worse, or even any different but—I do regret not havin’ ya around all this time. Maybe my biggest regret in life.” He glanced up at you again and marveled at your thoughtful, open, and slightly sad expression.

You nodded subtly. “Mine too.”

“The reason I didn’t come tell ya I was leavin’—” he hesitated, biting his bottom lip anxiously. “Is because I knew ya’d try to stop me. I knew ya’d ask me to stay… and if—if ya asked me that, there would be no way I could go.”

You gave him a sad smile and had to blink away the glistening moisture in your eyes again. You cleared your throat and nodded. “I’m still mad at you,” you joked softly.

He let out a small laugh. “Thas fair…” Daryl rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “So, yer really alone out here?” he asked.

You nodded.

“Well, I’ve got a group. Good people. Family. If ya wanted to, ya can come back with me. Yer—yer family too. I promise they’re all good people,” he drawled. He watched you carefully, anxiously trying to read your reaction.

You nodded slowly. “I trust you,” you said.

He cleared his throat, feeling a swell of happiness at your response. “I won’t leave ya again,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow up at him. “Ya better not.”