#this is the most self indulgent thing ever but you know what i had fun :^)

[orphicmusings]

this is so self indulgent but i love the idea of modern!viktor with reader who is more artistic/humanities inclined rather than stem…museum dates are a staple, obviously, whether they’re art or history, you walk hand in hand and sit on the little benches when you need a break and talk about your favorite parts (he loves seeing artifacts and antiques!!!) and he loves that he gets to hear you gush about each subject you come across and watch your eyes flicker with absolute light as you learn more and more, the passion for it being the best thing the two of you share other than your love for each other.

and then he’ll take you to one of those science discovery places, and he loves to freak you out with gnarly facts and will spend an hour in the planetarium with you if they let you, mapping out the constellations in the dim light in your own little journals, pretending you’re ancient astrologers. one time, on a particularly slow day, due to the relaxing music and general ambience, you both had fallen asleep in there— your head on his shoulder, his head on top of yours, and a staff member found you about a half hour before closing.

spoiling your partner with fine things such as designer clothes and jewelry is great, and he would if you wanted it, but to him? the most fun he’ll ever have spoiling you is watching you go absolutely ham in a bookstore. following behind you through the shelves with a basket to collect your pile, and you making sure you’re picking out a few you can read together (you reading aloud to him to get his mind to quiet down enough for him for fall asleep—he loves jane austen). seeing you geek out over limited edition covers of classics, dracula, frankenstein (which you affectionately call him, viktor frankenstein, when he is particularly too stubborn to leave his lab), greek myths, shakespeare, even if you already have a copy, he’ll buy you this one simply because it looks better on your joint bookshelf.

and if you ever doubt your intelligence in comparison to his? after trying to figure out something mathematical and handing it to him and him getting it done within seconds? even muttering a “right, sorry, i’m stupid” as a kneejerk reaction to existing in a lifetime of academic settings where stem is prioritized as The Smart People Subject and the humanities are only there as frivolous endeavors— will earn you the most disappointed look. “do not talk about yourself like that, my darling. i mean it.” he tells you firmly, getting more annoyed at you putting yourself down than he ever would with you asking him for help. oh, and if you were feeling particularly self deprecating and decided to go back at him?

god have mercy on you as he has you reading and retaining information from dense texts to him as he’s buried between your thighs, just to prove you can do what he couldn’t.

“mhm, and what have we learned?”

“that…” you caught your breath. “orpheus actually proved he loved eurydice by-“

“no.” he chided gently with a breathy smirk of his own. “that my love is entirely capable, and skilled, the most clever little darling i know…yes?”

you can’t stop the bashful smile that pulls at your lips and the heat that dusts your cheeks when you answer in affirmation.

[lemonfroq]

squids and peace!

+ bonus doodles of vash being an affectionate creature as usual (and credit to sol_rust and fresh8cto on twt for their zapfish!vash design inspos!)

[endlessdreamworld]

God, I finally caught up on the HSR story and I'm so down bad for this man, this traumatized guy, my poor little meow meow.

So here's some yan! Aventurine X gn! reader headcanons that have been rotting inside my brain for the past few days. Bark bark bark rate up soon please haha!!

In the early stages of your relationship, his behavior matches his superficial self, the shell he shows everyone. One of his first gifts to you would be a credit card attached to his personal bank account. 'Don't ask! Just spend.' He'd get a hit of endorphins every single time he sees a charge coming through from you. He knows it's you because he named the profile attached to that card with some corny pet name with a slew of emojis beside it, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on the screen of his phone.

It doesn't take long for him to be utterly obsessed with you. How could he not? You're just so... everything! His everything. It's at this stage, the mask slips off. Material gifts are no longer enough, and the gifts he gives you are pieces of himself. He'll overrule whatever pet name you gave him in favor of honey -- a reference to his heritage.

And speaking of heritage, he's prepared quite the gift for your one year anniversary. Once the sun had long set on a sinfully indulgent all-day date, and after some desperate and incredibly needy sex when the two of you are tangled up in a knot of your sweat and burning feelings, he'll give you his present. Kakavasha, he'd mutter into the sensitive skin on the side of your neck mirroring his commodity code. It's one of the few things he owns that truly matter to him, and he can only hope you'll accept his humble gift.

He's needy, so very very needy in general, about everything, always, in every single way. Pathetically so. He can't hold your hand like a normal person, your fingers must be laced. Kissing? There's rarely a moment when you're not being kissed, and he's generous with the sheer variety he provides you with. Sometimes it's little soft sweet kisses that are more like whispers against your flesh. Other times, he'll kiss you on the hand or face only to never pull away as if he's moving into the real estate on your bare skin wherever he can find it.

And after a particularly horrible day, he'll return home without greeting you in his usual cheerful way. You'll immediately know something is up, even more so when he puts you into a vice grip, kissing you in such a way where it's like he's trying to suck the air out of your lungs. It's as if he believes you can baptize him with your spit and turn him into something worthy of walking around other human beings, a luxury he can never afford himself. On days like this, he feels so utterly unworthy of the life he's taken from the people who have been unfortunate enough to cross paths with him, one stolen day at a time. Of course, he's shameless enough to steal from you of all people -- the sweet little giving thing that you are.

He dreams about working up the nerve, or maybe stooping so low as to ask for your hand in marriage. Whichever comes first. It's something he would have thought a lot about up until that point. He's got more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime, even if one of his hobbies was lighting huge stacks of credits on fire just for fun. With that in mind, any gem no matter how priceless would be a bauble in comparison to what you deserve for putting up with him. Of course he could carve off a piece of his cornerstone, a piece of him, and give you a fragment of God to decorate your finger. But if life on Sigonia IV taught him anything, it's how quickly your most precious belongings can be taken.

So naturally, there's only one thing he could think of that would be more valuable than that, only one thing comes to mind that can't be taken. The idea came to him in passing, an idea that's quite literally staring him in the face.

He's tried getting rid of his commodity code in the past, but even with all of his money, there's nothing that can make it go away without leaving some sort of mark. It was just easier to accept it and it slowly faded into the background over time.

So what would be more valuable than a piece of him, a piece of God? Why, eternity of course, something truly priceless. It would only be proper to get your wedding band's tattooed. You'd even be considerate enough to encourage him to pick an Avgin pattern.

While the idea of a ring as a symbol of your bond is nice, a ring is an object. Objects can be stolen -- or worse, taken off. Countless times were the things he held dearest taken from him. Although those days are long gone, and even though he's a gambling man, he wasn't about to take any chances. Not now. Not with this.

Having your promise to love one another until death do you part sealed onto your skin would give him tremendous comfort. If anyone wanted to take this away from him, the symbol of his vow to you, they'd have to peel it off of his cold, dead body. But first, they'd have to manage to kill him, of course.

Aventurine is hard to get a read on, which is just how he likes it. He's been many thing: a scoundrel, a villain, a confidante, a friend, a rival, a whipping post, a beggar, a tool, a whore, a hound, a pawn, a con artist, and a killer; all things he wouldn't hesitate to become again if the situation demands it. It's in his nature to adapt to what he needs to do, and who he needs to become. But no matter how much of a shapeshifter he pretends to be, the core of his being is unchanging and inviolable, for better or worse.

He's still that scared, lucky, little shivering Avgin boy no matter how hard he tries to play dress up. He needs you to find Kakavasha underneath all of the masks and bullshit he hides behind.

Every day he bets on you to find him, the real him, and love him. The wager? Just the usual -- his life.

[hoseoksluna]

ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head. 

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way. 

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex. 

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past. 

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case. 

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it. 

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you. 

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand. 

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym. 

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top. 

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm. 

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream. 

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious. 

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle. 

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach. 

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.” 

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can. 

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too. 

“Can I have the lollipop, please?” 

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?” 

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny. 

“In my mouth.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth. 

“Open.” 

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat. 

You do open your mouth for him, however. 

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning. 

You pretend you don’t see it. 

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.  

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.” 

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear. 

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake. 

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.” 

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?” 

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?” 

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm. 

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it. 

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down. 

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet. 

And then, he drags you to his car. 

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers. 

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing. 

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.” 

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response. 

Fuck. 

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?” 

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips. 

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you. 

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken. 

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it. 

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek. 

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.” 

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come. 

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer. 

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last. 

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?” 

“I need to come, please.” 

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?” 

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?” 

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with. 

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan. 

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction. 

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss. 

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied. 

He grins at you. “I bet.” 

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.” 

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?” 

“Yes, so bad, please.” 

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe. 

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness. 

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.” 

He wants more of your taste. 

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof���seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds. 

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.” 

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop. 

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.” 

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed. 

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough. 

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?” 

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.” 

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?” 

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.” 

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream. 

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?” 

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear. 

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.” 

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them. 

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth. 

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms. 

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin. 

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good. 

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.” 

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory. 

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced. 

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you. 

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him. 

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties. 

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs. 

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him. 

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.” 

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else. 

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently. 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.” 

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first. 

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them. 

“I love you.” 

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time. 

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[fangswbenefits]

Patience

Summary: You are too eager to ride Astarion, and he proposes a solution to your impatience. After all, experience is the best teacher and impatience its fiercest enemy.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Inexperienced Tav. Thigh riding. Edging. Sexual frustration. Precum. Handjob. Cum. Muffled moans.

Word count: 2.4k

“Hello.”

Astarion’s eyes lifted from the pages of the dusty book in his hand, carefully following your every move as you dropped the flap of his tent and secured the strings in place.

The universal sign for ‘do not disturb’.

A faint knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Hello, darling,” he said, straightening his back as he sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor.

You dropped next to him on both knees, eyeing the book in his hand. “What are you reading?”

His smile grew wider, slightly entertained by your evident lack of self-awareness. 

For all intents and purposes, Astarion could read right through your innocent question.

After all, you were by far his favourite book to indulge in, and – quite frankly – the most alluring.

“Oh, something regarding the political scene of Waterdeep,” he mused, feigning boredom as he snapped the book close. “Gale outdid himself by carrying this tedious literary work around, though it is very much on brand for him.”

You nodded, clasping both your thighs and biting your lip. “Sounds interesting.”

Except you weren’t at all interested in it, were you? Your avidity was rooted in something else entirely.

And he had every intention of indulging you, his resolve fueled by the hardly noticeable way you fidgeted under his stare.

“Dropped by for a goodnight kiss, did you?”

The question startled you, and he inwardly chuckled from anticipation.

“Yes… I suppose so,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to his lips.

To the untrained eye, one might mistake your words for uncertainty.

But Astarion knew you well.

Too well.

Your body language never failed to provide all the information he sought and it told him more about your intentions than words ever could.

Forcing a dramatic sigh, he set the book aside and patted his thigh. “Come here, darling.”

As expected, you eagerly shifted towards him across the carpeted floor before settling on his lap looking positively delighted.

He could already foresee where this was headed.

The moment his hands came to rest on your waist, you immediately looped your arms around his neck as if bracing for the inevitable. 

“Where’s my kiss, then?”

You beamed at his antics and leaned in to press her soft lips against his.

Your inexperience was palpable and clashed head-on with your eagerness, which often resulted in sloppy and clumsy kisses as you came to terms with how to handle your own lust.

Astarion didn’t mind having you take control. After all, experience is the best teacher, and he wouldn’t deny himself the fun of having you struggling with taking the lead.

Outside this tent, you called the shots.

In your shared intimacy, you trusted him to guide you through the intricacies of carnal bliss.

But he was ready to test just how much you had managed to break from your inexperience.

Your warm tongue darted across his lower lip and he immediately allowed you to slide it inside.

Sloppy.

Desperate.

Hungry.

He couldn’t hold back a chuckle as you grazed his fangs, pressing yourself hard against his crotch. The hip rolls followed soon after, and he knew it wouldn’t take long for his cock to stir in his trousers.

A breathy moan rumbled along your throat as his tongue tried to redirect yours. At this rate, you’d nip yourself on one fang. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy the sweet taste of your blood filling his mouth, but it would be far too distracting, and he might not resist having his cock inside you in record time.

The grind against him only increased in pace and pressure, and he felt one of your arms drop and snake in between you two, hand fidgeting at his waistband, tugging eagerly.

Oh, you poor, sweet thing…

You craved touching him more than he had anticipated, and the tingles of pleasure rushed down his body and worked on further teasing his cock.

A needy whimper was what ultimately broke the kiss, and your quickened breaths fanned his lips. “Let me… please…”

“What do you want?” he asked mischievously.

Your other hand slipped from his neck and clumsy fingers kept fumbling with the lacing at the front of his trousers.

Clearly, dexterity wasn’t your forte.

But he had enough for both of you.

“Please…” you repeated, pressing further against him.

Delicious tease…

“Use your words, darling.”

A growl of sheer frustration filled his ears. “Let me ride you… please.”

Crude and straight to the point. 

Delicious.

His cock immediately twitched from the sound of your sweet voice and, for a brief moment, he considered your plea.

But he figured that some reining in was in order.

Your eagerness often resulted in impatience, which often meant he'd come way faster than intended just from your teasing alone.

This time, he wanted to savour the moment.

He quickly grabbed both your wrists before you could free his hardening cock. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

A string of whines immediately ensued as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. “No… no… no… please…”

You began grinding down against him desperately as frustration took over, and he simply couldn't suppress the deep groan that escaped his throat.

Gods above…

“I know, darling… I know,” he cooed sweetly, rubbing the back of your neck as he prayed to whatever God above to grant him the strength to withstand the delicious roll of your hips. “Be patient.”

Your whines only intensified. “Then… your fingers?” you asked as you pulled back to stare at him, hope kindled in your eyes.

The prospect was tempting. Almost too tempting to pass. He was certain you were already desperately clenching around nothing, your wetness dripping as your body readied itself to have him inside.

However…

He clicked his tongue, letting go of one wrist to graze your bottom lip with his thumb. “What about…” He paused as you parted your lips, inviting him in. “My thigh?”

“Your… thigh?” 

“Yes,” he said, now teasing your upper lip.

Your grind slowed down into a dull pace as if trying to test digest his suggestion.

“But why?”

He grinned sympathetically. “And why not? You are too eager and should exercise more patience.”

You pouted sheepishly and his cock stirred even more. “But… I’ll be quiet…”

This did make him chuckle as he could almost taste your despair. Under different circumstances, he would have adored watching your mouth part as you slid down his cock, but he wondered how long it would take for you to fully soak through his trousers.

“We both know you’d struggle to keep it down,” he said, fingers teasing the hem of your shirt before slipping under it and caressing the warm skin of your lower abdomen. “But the point is: I would very much like to have you grinding along my thigh.”

You swallowed, shivering under his touch and averting your eyes.

All flustered for him.

It always did wonders to his ego and cock.

Letting go of your other wrist, he captured your chin in his hand, wanting your eyes on him once again. “You want to ride me, don’t you? Then feel free to do so, darling.”

Your eyes widened. “Fully clothed?”

He pondered for a moment, one finger slipping under the waistband of your trousers. “Maybe taking these off?”

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately scrambling with the lacing and nearly losing your balance in the process as you lifted your hips to pull them down your legs and kicked them to the side.

He caught a fleeting glimpse of the swell between your folds, the faint candlelight allowing him to spot your wetness glistening around it.

The pulsing pressure building up around his cock was testing his limits.

Fortunately, Astarion had no issues grounding you with his hands on your hips as you hurried to settle right above one of his thighs as he uncrossed his legs, but not quite lowering yourself all the way down.

“What about yours?”

A mischievous smile danced across his lips. “Take a seat, darling.”

You nodded and gripped his shoulders as you aligned yourself with the bulging muscle along his thigh, pressing down firmly.

A strained hiss parted your lips from the sudden friction and helped your hips find a proper rhythm to begin with.

“You’re so… mean,” you huffed in frustration, eyes locked with his. “Just let me…”

Astarion wasn’t being mean. Not in the common definition of the word, at least.

He would be mean to deny you of this altogether. 

But to deny you would be to deny himself, and he could be quite selfish at times.

Your voice immediately died down as he flexed his muscle, earning a soft mewl from you.

“You were saying…?” he teased.

The way you had to bite down hard on your lip was answer enough, and you merely shook your head as he kept on taunting you.

It wasn’t long before he felt the dampness beginning to seep through the fabric of his trousers. In truth, he wasn’t at all surprised by how soaked you already were. 

So eager…

“Can I just... touch it…” you moaned, dropping your hand to his crotch, teasing his considerable bulge. “Please…”

His hips bucked up into your palm, driven on pure instinct and he let out a blissful groan. “I’ll manage.”

He wouldn’t.

In fact, he was quite sure he was going to come embarrassingly fast in his trousers if you kept riding him like that.

But the alternative was to let you grip his cock, which would not be a wise decision either.

“Don’t be stubborn,” you said with an adorable pout.

Eventually, Astarion settled for the latter, realising he was being consumed by maddening lust and might as well fully indulge in your eagerness.

He quickly unfasted the lacing and hissed in relief as you tugged the fabric down just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, your hips never faltering. 

The moment your warm fingers wrapped around his cock was when he realised just how wet he also was for you.

A quick glance down allowed him to spot a few droplets of precum rolling down his length before coating your fingers and knuckles.

Another groan left his lips as he struggled to keep his hips steady so as not to ruin the delicious and determined pace you had set grinding against his thigh.

He just wasn’t strong enough to resist you and your evident inexperience as you tried to match your strokes along his cock with your hip rolls.

“Gods…” he growled, eyes nearly fluttering shut.

Deciding that you might need some help, he wrapped his own hand around yours, quickly finding the sweet spot that allowed your hips to move in unison with both your hands.

A loud whimper broke from within you.

“Keep it down…” he managed to say in between needy grunts.

You nodded vaguely as your wetness began to coat the skin under his trousers, further pushing his sanity to the limit.

Oh, he was done for.

He was quite fortunate he wasn’t buried deep inside you or you’d already be filled to brim with his seed.

And against his better judgement, he decided to push himself even more by tugging at the buttons on your shirt.

He needed to see them.

He needed to see your breasts sway as you rode him.

His dexterity would always prove fruitful in the most random situations, and he was skilled enough to undo each button with just two fingers, trailing down your torso, until the thin fabric of your shirt spread apart enough for him to catch sight of one full breast undulate with each roll of your hips.

A perky nipple peeked through and he felt his cock twitch dangerously in your hand.

He pushed the fabric aside so he could have both of them swaying at a mesmerising pace.

You hurriedly slipped out of your shirt, shoving some of it in your mouth to muffle your increasing moans and whimpers.

Astarion felt his balls tighten as a warning.

He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate.

Not with you so desperately riding him and with your hand stubbornly squeezing more and more precum from him.

Astarion could slip into shadows like one else, bending silence and stealth to his will if he so wished to avoid being spotted.

But there was only so much he could hold back with you so easily ruining him.

“I’m… going…. Astarion…” you groaned, closing your eyes as you threw your head back, nearing your peak and biting down hard into your shirt.

He increased the grip of his fingers around your, yearning to mimic the tightness of being inside you.

“Not so tight…” he pleaded, too lost in his pleasure.

The fabric of his trousers that covered his thigh was absolutely drenched and he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered.

In fact, he was tiptoeing the edge of his self-restraint, now matching his hips with your own.

A sudden spasm from you alerted him that you were coming hard, your fingers squeezing so tightly around his cock he had no other choice but to bite down on one end of your shirt, feeling his fangs tearing easily through the fabric.

You kept on spasming on top of him, your breasts swaying with each contraction that tore through your body,

He managed to fuck your hand a couple of times before he reached the point of no return as his balls tightened, the rush of liquid coursing through his cock as the first spurts of cum spilled from his tip.

For a moment, his mind blanked as his own powerful contractions took over his entire body and senses.

He felt his cum seep through his own shirt as he used your trembling hand to squeeze the final drops from his cock, not bothered where they landed as long as they were out and by your hand.

You slumped into him, whimpering softly from the aftermath of reaching your peak.

It took him a few seconds to catch up with you and he quickly released your torn  shirt from his mouth.

“You owe me a new one,” you said, panting against his neck and still not letting go of his cock.

He blinked a few times as he descended from the overwhelming bliss you had thrust him into.

“Darling, you owe me.”

You chuckled faintly. “And why is that?”

He caressed the back of your hand, absentmindedly coating it in cum with his fingers. “You’ve just learned to have some patience.” 

Masterlist

[andhumanslovedstories]

chapter eleven of what feels like the most soap opera ass fic I've ever written and then just a bunch of thoughts about writing it, which contains vague spoilers for my plans:

The inception of the fic basically went like this:

haha lol i'd be fun if sqq got real mad at the state of education

what would need to happen in this fic that doesn't happen in canon to motivate him to do something about it

oh shit he didn't unlock OOC so he has to figure out how to be his coddling indulgent self (which he's in denial about) while also being shen jiu

But the thing that really made the story get so much bigger in scope was when I was reading a fic with yqy coming clean to sj, and sj being like, "GASP. I forgive you." And I was "I simply do not believe that this is how it would happen." And I would have moved on with my life, but then I thought, "but like how would it happen." And more importantly, how could this conversation happen within the canon timeline but still involve Shen Jiu, the person this information affects.

The OOC idea and the need for Shen Jiu to be present in this fight scene came together to be like "what if sqq got sj's memories so he could rules-lawyer his characterization more accurately, and ends up being furious on sj's behalf?"

(This, btw, is why I knew I had to get much fonder of YQY and get a much better understanding of his character. When a pillar of your fic idea is a character getting ripped into for his choices, it is sooooooo easy to for it to come off as the author yelling their personal opinions or for it to be completely flat character bashing. Neither are interesting to read or write! Hence the crash-course in YQY appreciation, so now he gets his own emotional arc too. Everyone gets a goddamn plotline.)

Meanwhile I was also thinking about the implications of downloading another person's life into your head. If you have their memories and their body, are you them? What makes you not them? I didn't know! I sort of just kept writing and posting with the assumption that I'd figure something out, which I've finally nailed down btw. That's a relief! Also kinda the fun of WIPs where you're building the railroad track as you're on the train. I end up fanficing my own fanfic. Once stuff is posted, that's the canon, and I look at it and think, "if this was a book I was reading, what is the way I would extrapolate what's there to make a new but coherent story?"

That's why my outline becomes pretty useless after a while. The big picture doesn't change too much--I know roughly where all the major characters are going to be emotionally by the end of the story--but I discover the path I'm going to take there. Which usually means adding stuff. Liu Qingge wasn't going to get a POV, and now every chapter I'm like "fuck am I building a throuple". Ming Fan will have waaaay more a story line than I originally conceived. Early on, I was like "eh I'm not going to go too far into the brothel stuff," and can you guess what is going to be coming up prominently in the next few chapters? God help me.

Actually, there's only one major part of the outline that I cut: Shang Qinghua. He was originally very prominent early on, but turns out having the literal Word of God in a story about slowly discovering backstory is difficult to reconcile. So sadly, he doesn't get a real role. If you're curious, the original plan for him was that SQQ would realize he's a transmigrator much earlier in the canon, but the System would be like [shen jiu would not tell shang qinghua he is a transmigrator. ooc] which would lead to this series of SQQ trying to figure out how he can communicate around this. SQQ at a peak meeting being like, "do you think these DEMONS are PROUD of having made their WAY to us IMMORTALS?" while SQH is like, "AM I HAVING A STROKE?"

What's some other stuff about this fic? I've got a lot of thoughts bottled up, in part because I'm kinda snobby tbh in how I post. I'm like "*pushes glasses up my nose* the author's takes on the story should not be unavoidably present when reading the text" so I don't like to use ao3's author's notes. It's ridiculous and not a standard I hold anyone else too, but whenever I find myself wanting to address something in the notes, I know I must feel insecure about that part of the story. So either fix it or don't draw attention to it. But this is fine, you have to come here for this. This is DVD commentary.

My favorite part of writing this fic has been balancing Shen Jiu's character. As I'm fleshing out his sad backstory, I've been wary of essentially woobifying him. Reducing him to just someone who greatly suffered is so boring and flat. He NEEDS to suck. Or more accurately, he needs to be a very imperfect victim. Exasperating at his mildest, despicable at his worst. (Truthfully, I do think I can and should make him worse. Luckily this story is nothing but flashbacks to him at his worst so there's plenty of opportunities.)

This whole mental breakdown section has been an interesting balancing act because it's explicitly about how bad Shen Jiu's life was and now how bad Shen Qingqiu's is. It's the point at which I had to decide how torturous his time at the Qiu manor had been (me and Shen Qingqiu really discovered that together). On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the absolute worst saddest brutalist ideas I had for this era in his life, I'd say I settled on about a 7. Most of it is backstage in my head, but once I locked that down, I could start figuring out how much was bleeding through.

Anyway, it's been fun writing the angstfest of the last few chapters, but oh my god am I ready for a tone shift. There's usually jokes in my works, even the saddest bits, but jokes relieve tension which is the opposite of what I was going for. I didn't want any humor in the YQY conversation, then you have to keep not joking for a while to get the point across. There's still a lot of planned emotional shit, but I'm happy to not be wallowing for a while.

AND GOD AS MY WITNESS THIS STORY WILL NOT BE LONGER THAN 20 CHAPTERS. MAYBE IT'LL EVEN BE LESS!! IT IS DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO BE A WHOLE CANON REWRITE. PROBABLY!! IF TIANLANG JUN HAS ANY SIGNIFICANT SCREEN TIME, PLEASE KNOW THAT I HAVE FAILED.

[luciferanalyzestar]

Live reaction to Mastermind, ughhhhh.

Spoilers of course.

Gross.

I like this design; she's cute. Shout out to the character designers.

Satan's design is like whatever. Those imp-like horns on the top of his head looks silly. Just more fucking red on top of red. Loveart23's Satan design for her re imagined is peaked.

This shit is fucking gross, please STOP!

This design is bad too and Ozzie's outfit is hideous.

Bee's outfit here is 100% better than her main one.

See Mammon, no one wants you because you are fat and that's gross!!!! >:(((((

Notice that Mammon is the only sin that is overweight and the only one confirmed to be on the asexual spectrum. Levi's design is horrible. Those colors do not go together.

This line would be amazing if Loona wasn't a whole ass adult. This is so melodramatic I am giggling. "I love you guys." Yeah, you threaten to sexual assault them both to Mooxie and stalked them back in season 1. These characters are not "found family". This is the quality of this show now, just ass.

I skipped the song; I'm not listening to that shit. I'm tired of hearing Stolas singing about Blitz, This is a small smile on my face, you know why just look like my username.

YES SATAN!! This shit got me laughing, why he is crying over Stolass?? Fuck him, he is a fetishizer.

This is the FIRST time Stella and Via have interacted....we are at the end of season two. Look guy, she's being EVIL!!!!! and doesn't care about her daughter at all. *eye roll*

What does Stolas even do?? We never seen him do his royal duties, just fucking around with IMP or he is in his mansion.

You want to fuck your sister.

GET IT!! HE EATS A LOT!!!! MAMMON IS FAT!!!!! ISN'T THAT GROSSS!!!!!???????

I WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE IN MY WALL. Viv will never beat the fatphobia allegations. Let fat character exists without doing shit like this.

I notice that all or most of rail thin characters are rarely seen eating food but Mammon and Adam who are fat eat food on the regular.

I'm sending the fandom there too. My new favorite minor character! Thank you, janitor imp. You're a real one for this.

She better not assault Blitz every again.

Why is Blitz bathing him??? This is giving me bad vibes like why????

DROWN!!! Please do us a favor and DROWN!!!

Rating: 2/10

I don't care about Blitz, Stolas, and their relationship. It is boring and bland like dry moldy toast. It being the main "appeal" to Helluva is an awful choice, no one can tell me otherwise. This is why the views have been dropping since the released of Full Moon. The shippers are this show's life support and if they ever become unhappy, this show is tank.

This episode barely kept my attention unlike the previous one. I even paused it to eat some Hawaiian Rolls, and I had more fun eating bread than watching this episode.

The only thing that kept me interested was the small mentions of Lucifer. If did not have a hyper fixation on him, I would probably not finish the episode.

The crew hyping up Vassago by putting him in that pride parade print and other merch is funny because he does nothing. He has no personality out of being Spanish. If something is hyped by Viv or anyone else, it's going to be lame.

We know season three will have more focus on Ars Goetia so he will probably be Stolas' future Latin lover or even worse, a love triangle between him, Stolas, and Blitz. Vassago and Stolas should get together, they both have "ass" in their names.

Viv said this episode is one of her favorites and is self-indulgent. Self-indulgent where??? This is just your standard season two epsiode of Helluva. I thought it was going to be more of a musical episode.

Anyway, this episode is bad in my opinion.

[vonlycaonwife]

Lycaon relationship hcs

Omg I went off on this, this was supposed to be for someone’s request but then I accidentally went completely self indulgent. So this will be made into its own post!

Warnings: nsfw (under the cut), knotting, bdsm

Honestly seeing Lycaon in a relationship is like seeing fireflies in the night. It's so whimsical and almost magical, even if it is reality and down to earth.

He's just so sweet and romantic, a lot of the time not meaning to! Like he just naturally would do these little things that make your heart melt.

Though in the beginning he definitely was nervous, not so much to the point of it being obvious to a stranger. But the rest of the members definitely had fun seeing him overthink his actions.

These three would definitely be asked a lot of questions, mainly Rina though since she would have better advice (debatable) than Corin or Ellen.

But! Once the relationship has been through the first couple of months everything is pretty smooth sailing.

He doesn't really question what to do, mainly because he would communicate with you very clearly and often to make sure everything is alright and he's not overstepping.

If his partner isn't a thiren I can imagine him fearing about potentially overstepping because of the possible habits thirens have when in relationships.

One I feel is them being a bit more territorial, though how it's shown is dependent on each person. For Lycaon I feel that for him it's very subtle, like making sure his scent is on you. I can't see him getting aggressive publicly unless someone was making his partner uncomfortable.

Another thiren custom I highly feel is a thing is partners grooming each other. Since it's a common thing amongst animals for bonding, thirens most likely have that instinct as well. So I can see him insistenting on brushing your hair and maybe doing your makeup if you wear any. And he wouldn't really complain about you returning the favor, you would definitely see his tail wagging as you brush his fur.

Also! Another important thing you see more commonly than others is definitely him using more casual prosthetics than the ones we see usually see him. While they would be cyber enhancements as well, they wouldn't have the same modifications as his work ones. I can't imagine him letting just anyone see him use those, so you would be very special to him to see him using those.

Do I have to even mention that he's like the best when it comes to taking care of a sick partner? THIS MAN-

While I don’t believe he would call out of work for a simple cold, he would already have everything prepared for you. Like medicine beside your bed along with a warm meal in the microwave (to keep warm).

But if it's worse than that you can guarantee that he's staying around to make sure you recover at a speedy pace.

Nsfw under the cut

Okay but it's very obvious Lycaon restrains himself a lot to put on a more sophisticated approach.

So when to sex with him you really would have to show him how much you trust him to let him fully relax and not hold himself back during the act.

Even then I don't think he would want to do things roughly that often, maybe only when he's really stressed and needs to release it. Though if that were to be the case there is always a safe word.

As a thiren I do believe he potentially goes through a rut, but it's not really something that happened often until he met you. And even then he most likely prefers to not undergo that since he would lose control of himself.

But! That doesn't mean I don't think he's kinky, I definitely believe he is.

I can see him having a small bdsm thing, but it's only surface level. He mainly would only ever bring these into the bedroom once he knows there's a great amount of trust between you two.

He very much gives soft dom vibes, but it's also obvious that he also has the potential to be a mean dom. I mean come on they're clearly hinting at him being a bit sadistic, even if surface level.

Also I have to say this, he definitely has a knot. (YOU CANNOT STOP ME I AM A FURRY BITCH *ahem* anyway-) But in order for that to ever come into play he would prepare for several weeks, since I can't imagine him not having a big dick and putting a knot on that sounds painful. 

But also I feel like he would only ever do penetrative sex if he's very confident about spending the rest of his life with his partner. Since wolves do have a habit of mating for life.

So it would take awhile to get to that point, and even longer once he's agreed to it since again, prepping you could take a bit.

Another thing I feel I should bring up is him potentially keeping his prosthetics on during sex. It would be the casual ones I've spoken about, but I think he wouldn't take them off for extra leverage and also comfortability (as I feel like in zzz they're most likely advanced enough in tech to where they're pretty comfortable to wear a lot).

Though on the off chance he doesn't have them on you would more likely than not ride him.

Actually speaking on positions, he's definitely a missionary or mating press guy. Maybe would do stuff from behind if he's bending you over a counter or desk. 

Though that would only happen when at home, since I highly doubt he would want anyone to walk in on him while in the act.

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[writella]

Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡���o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

[tkomptgoedluv]

watermelon.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.3

pt1. here | pt.2 here | pt.3

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, angst angst and even more angst, did i mention angst?, tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy it’s honestly a little cringe <3, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 3,493.

warnings: very brief + vague reference to SA, rpf.

notes: hello!! welcome to pt.3 <3 this is probably the part that i’m most proud of, probably because it weirdly hurt the most to write. a couple fun facts about this part: reader’s coat is heavily based on one i have in real life and absolutely adore. also, i genuinely couldn’t bring myself to touch this wip for two whole days because my personal life started to match up with this storyline and i did not like it! became a little too self-indulgent. anyways — enjoy!! lemme know what you think.

love you all lots 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

in a lot of ways, the whole situation was more or less your own idea of hell — ironic, considering it all started with literally the worst night of your life.

not once did you ever think that you’d be here, that this was how things were gonna go. the fun part? you don’t even know how you got here in the first place. for someone so in the middle of it all, you know surprisingly little about what actually happened, or what you must’ve done wrong.

all you know is that it’s different now. joost is different now.

you still text everyday, a few phone calls here and there, and you’ll see him in person a few times a month or more, but you can still feel it. the subtle lack of emotion in his messages, the only-ever increasing wait times in between responses, the missing details in his stories that you’d still end up hearing from your friends. something, at some point, shifted and joost just didn’t seem to be your joost anymore.

at first, you tried to think nothing of it. you weren’t exactly a stranger to anxiety; it’s always been just a little too easy for you to get lost inside your own head. this also wasn’t the first time that you had fallen down this rabbit hole, suddenly convinced that someone you love doesn’t even like you because they said something in a slightly different tone once.

but then those weird few days where things didn’t feel quite right turned into weeks, and it just didn’t feel like nothing anymore.

you thought it could’ve been the videos because, as predicted, entire montages of the fight found their way onto each and every little corner of the internet. joost could be seen clear as day swinging for him, landing punch after punch until one of his friends would eventually step in. though somehow, the backlash against joost never came. for every clip there was a ‘story-time’ to go right along with it, and every single one explained how joost was just defending ‘this girl that had been attacked by that guy.’

so instead you exhausted yourself asking if everything was alright, just in case there was something else going on that he also hadn’t told you. but there was only so many times that you could ask the same question over and over again, only to get the same answer back.

joost was fine; great even.

so it had to be you. nothing was wrong, nothing bad had happened, it was simply just you that had repelled him all of a sudden. and that was all you could think about whilst you sat in a room surrounded by your closest friends — joost included.

it was someone’s birthday, a friend of a friend who’s name was still unknown to you and yet somehow you still ended up with an invite. aspon was on your left, deep in a conversation with stuntje about some new anime you’d never heard of, and alanis was on your right, asking to see pictures of daan’s latest art piece.

you, of course, were there in between them all, just staring into space. all of the ice in your drink had melted as it sat forgotten about in your hands, and you were fairly confident that you had memorised each and every scratch in the wooden flooring. you were yet to find a better place to look other than the floor, because of course it was joost that had to be sat opposite you.

he had pulled the short straw really, because by the time he came back in from his cigarette outside, the only seat left was one of those awful, plastic fold-up chairs. like the others he too was wrapped up in a conversation of his own, only his included a girl that you’d never seen before, and he was making her laugh a lot.

you didn’t have a single right to absolutely despise what it was that you were seeing, but still your skin felt hot and itchy, and tears burned behind your eyes. despite arriving together in your group and being seated a measly three feet away from each other, joost was yet to even glance in your direction, let alone talk to you. the blatant avoidance was unbearable; the new ‘you’ that he was talking to was even worse.

but with the anger came the shame, because really, you had no excuse to be feeling like this. two strangers with mutual friends, talking with one another at a house party of all places, wasn’t exactly incriminating. they also weren’t touching or even flirting for that matter — from what you could hear, their conversation seemed limited to small anecdotes about the people in common they both knew.

you weren’t being fair, you weren’t being reasonable; there was no excuse for the tightness in your chest.

without a word, you got up and made a dash for the balcony; desperate for a cigarette. so desperate in fact, that you didn’t stop to grab your jacket despite the rain bashing against the windows. you just needed the fresh air, needed space away from whatever the fuck was going on in there.

the small roof that the balcony upstairs provided did little to shield you from the rain. your hair quickly fell damp around the sides of your face as the wind brought goosebumps to your arms. you really should’ve stopped to grab your coat, you were soaking now.

but the pure, unbridled relief that you felt when you breathed in the smoke of your cig made it all worth it, though. it was something else to focus on, something to help soothe all of your aches and pains. best of all, it gave you a reason to be by yourself for a while — a moment alone to think, to breathe, a chance to get a fucking grip.

you took another drag of your cigarette.

“think you forgot this, schatje.”

over the sound of the heavy-falling rain and the music from inside, you hadn’t heard the balcony door slide open and shut again.

from the corner of your eye you saw joost standing there, clad in a black gilet and the same adidas track-jacket that you had bought for him two birthdays ago. your coat was in his outstretched hands; a big, red furry thing that almost swallowed you whole every time you put it on.

“yeah…thanks.”

you wanted to cry.

the silence that followed was heavy and awkward; neither of you could even look at each other as you took your jacket from him and slipped it on. whilst you focused on looking outwards towards the skyline, blinking away any tears that threatened to spill, joost busied himself with lighting up a cigarette of his own. it felt like you were standing next to a stranger, and not someone who quite literally knew every single little thing about you.

someone who always picked up the phone when you called; someone whose bed you’ve woken up naked in just a few too many times to count.

“you, uh, you doing okay?”

you almost choked on your cigarette.

he’d barely even glanced your way all night, too distracted by other female attention to really care that you were there at all, and now he wanted to know how you were doing? oh he had to be joking.

you stubbed out your cig underneath your shoe and went to storm back inside, shoving past him with your shoulder as you did so. you had almost made it too, before he caught you by the arm and gently pulled you back. it really pissed you off how hurt he looked, like this wasn’t all his fault in the first place.

“hey, can we not just talk for a minute? i wanna know what’s been up with you recently. we don’t really talk anymore.”

as hard as you could you pushed him off of you, and then you pushed him once more for good measure. you couldn’t bite it back anymore, couldn’t keep it all from spilling out when your blood was already boiling. if you were to regret it in the morning, you would just blame it on the few drinks you’ve already had.

“and why the fuck do you think that is, joost? tell me.”

a small part of you that you really couldn’t quite understand, genuinely hoped that he would push you back. that he’d get all up in your face, yelling at the top of his lungs, just as angry with you as you were with him. you wanted him to shout, to scream at you about how wrong you were; you wanted to feel crazy for even thinking that something could ever go wrong between the two of you.

you didn’t want him to just…stand there with his tail tucked between his legs, looking like he had already given up on you a long time ago. you found yourself shoving him again, only hard enough to knock him back a step or two this time.

“tell me!”

now more than ever you wished that you could stay angry, that you knew how to hold onto the outrage instead of always just breaking down into pieces. it made you feel so small the way that your voice was cracking; your shouts quickly shrinking into cries. you felt like a child again, begging to understand why everyone always left in the end.

“i just needed to work some stuff out, okay? none of this was meant to happen. i never wanted to make you cry.”

you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, the state of your mascara becoming an afterthought, before raking your fingers through your hair. thin strands stuck to the corners of your face and the back of your neck.

“please, tell me what i can do to make it better.”

joost was panicking now, looking a lot like an old dog that somehow knew it was about to be left behind at the shelter. you could see it in the way his hands were shaking and how he couldn’t quite seem to stand still, shifting from one leg to another.

“you can tell me what happened; what changed or what i did wrong. i don’t care.”

from the look on his face, you never would have guessed that all you’d asked him for was the truth; ‘panicked’ was no longer the right word.

“i can’t. i promise, i’ll tell you later but i can’t tell you here. not like this.”

you laughed — you couldn’t help it. three months ago, when you asked him why he was so insistent on doing anything and everything for you, he gave you the exact same line. either he forgot that he’s already used it once before, or he thought you were stupid enough to fall for it all over again; either way, you knew now that ‘later’ was never coming.

before you really knew what you were doing, you were back inside and weaving your way through the small huddles of your friends. a few stared as you began to tread water through the house, a long line of watery footprints following behind you on your way out. you muttered a quiet ‘i’ll see you guys later’ to whoever was listening and in one smooth motion, grabbed your bag from one of the tables and disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind you.

no one tried to stop you. probably for good reason, too, because you could feel the makeup running down your face.

the only good thing to come from looking so sad and drenched from the rain was that nobody on the street stopped to bother you either. not many people were out in this weather anyway, so at most you felt their eyes on you as they passed, a look of pity on their faces. pity for a girl all dressed up for a nice night out, just to be walking home early in tears.

you didn’t want their pity, you just wanted to go home. you wanted your bed and your pyjamas. you wanted a nice warm shower and to try and forget that today ever fucking happened.

you didn’t want joost to be chasing after you.

you didn’t want to hear your name being yelled from down the street by the one person you didn’t want to see right now.

“cmon you always do this! stop running away from everything.”

that was the thing to get you; the one thing that made you stop and turn on the spot.

“oh i’m the one running away? you’re the one that left!”

you met him halfway with steam coming out of your ears, your hands trembling and nose all scrunched up. you were fuming and it seemed as though he was now, too.

“i never went anywhere! you’re making it sound like i disappeared off the face of the earth or something.”

“well that’s what it felt like! what about that don’t you understand?”

you were each taking turns yelling now, oblivious to how loud you were actually being. people were sticking their heads out of their living room windows, morbidly curious about the scene that was unfolding right outside their homes. those that walked by did double-takes and even contemplated getting their phones out to record.

“but i’m here now! and i was ‘here’ back there and you just ran away like you always do!”

“did you really expect me to just stand there and listen to you lie again? all this ‘oh i’ll tell you later’ crap, it’s just bullshit. ever since that night you’ve been different and if what that guy did to me changed how you see me then maybe you’re right, maybe we should stop being whatever the fuck we are.”

joost physically recoiled at your words, his entire demeanour changing to one of hurt.

“what are you..? schatje no, no, it’s nothing like that. fuck, please tell me you don’t really think that.”

how could you not? it was the only thing left for you to think. it wasn’t like you wanted to come to that conclusion or that it was the first one you jumped to, but joost never gave you any other choice. as much as it hurt, it was better than simply not knowing.

something died in him when you nodded — you saw it in his eyes. tears of his own spilled down his cheeks as he rubbed his hands up and down his face, wiping his nose with the inside of his elbow.

“i…i would never; that guy…that wasn’t your fault.”

“then tell me the truth, joost.”

all that adrenaline, all that energy from before was long gone. you weren’t two people arguing in the rain, full of love and anger like something straight out of a romcom anymore. you were just two people standing out in the cold, soaked to the bone, just trying to hold on for a little while longer.

you were still waiting for joost to say something, trying to prepare yourself for the worst. if he was to say that same shit again, that he couldn’t tell you now but would later on, that would be it for you. you’d walk away and not turn back again, not for anything; just like that it would be game over.

but joost wasn’t saying anything, and you couldn’t decide if that was any better or not. he was silent as he took a couple steps towards you, the palms of his hands suddenly cupping either side of your jaw. the pads of his thumbs wiped away all the tears and rain from your eyes and tucked the odd strands of hair behind your ears. not once did he glance away from your gaze, not once did he say something.

it was driving you crazy.

“joost?” you were pleading with him now, desperate for him to say something — do something. the way he was looking at you, it was like you were the only thing he could see. “say something.”

“i love you.”

you blinked, and all of sudden you weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands anymore. it wasn’t the first time joost had said that to you because he says it to everyone, every single one of his friends. but he had never said it to you like that before, with a look in his eyes so heavy you feared that they might fall right out of his head.

“what?” your voice cracked as you spoke. “i don’t understand…what?”

“i love you. that’s what changed.”

a headache was coming, you could feel it. right behind your eyes, you felt a twinge, and then a subtle thumping that made your eyebrows twitch. you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, and the more you tried to make sense of it the more your head hurt.

“i swear to god if this is a fucking joke, if you’re just making this up -”

he shut you up with a kiss.

it wasn’t exactly for the first time or even close to being so, but it felt as though it could’ve been; all soft, gentle, careful. the hands that held either side of your face did so as though you could’ve cracked and shattered at any second. he moved slowly, almost hesitantly, until he felt you turn into mush beneath him. only then did he pull away, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

but you couldn’t let him have it though, could you? couldn’t just let him have the upper hand, just like that. you had to chase it, had to pull him down to your height by the collar of his jacket until your lips could meet his. by the time you were finished, both shaking and breathless, there were faint smudges of red all across his mouth.

“that was so hot; do it again.”

you laughed at his words for not the first time tonight, but now it was only out of pure joy instead of anything else. you laughed because of how out of it joost looked now, his eyes glossed over and lips parted ever so slightly as he panted. you laughed because of how much you did want to do it again and how you felt giddy knowing that joost wanted you to do it again too.

so you did. only this time joost was ready and pounced on you hard enough to knock you back a couple of steps, almost making you slip on the wet pavement. his fingers lost themselves in your hair, gently tugging at the roots as yours gripped onto the nylon of his jacket for dear life, too afraid to let go and risk letting him slip away.

you would have stayed like that with him all night if it wasn’t for the wolf whistle you heard from one of the windows above, followed by the rumble of thunder. the rain was starting to fall harder now, the storm only growing and you didn’t like knowing that people were watching you now.

“we shouldn’t be doing this here — people are looking.”

with his forehead resting against yours, joost simply groaned as he struggled to catch his breath. his hands still cradled the back of your head and his eyes were still squeezed shut.

“don’t care. need you.”

he may as well have been one of the puddles at your feet, the way he couldn’t even form proper sentences anymore. the things you were doing to him right now were criminal, almost cruel, and you were loving every minute of it. proud of it, actually. you might have been mush in his hands, but he was like putty in yours.

“well…maybe you should take me home then, yeah? then you can need me as much as you like.”

joost groaned again, muttering something about how you were ‘going to be the death of him’, and leaned back in. from your nose to your cheeks, to your chin, every inch was peppered with very sweet, very wet kisses.

“have i told you much i love you yet?”

he had, at least a handful of times by now, but not nearly enough as you would’ve liked. so you shrugged, a shit-eating grin plastered across your face as you did so, and stepped back, lacing your fingers with his.

“it’s okay, you can tell me one more time.”

apparently that was way too far for you to go, because after one singular step you were tugged back again and kissed as though joost’s very life depended on it. ironic, considering you were certain that you were both about to be struck by lightning at any moment.

“i love you.”

you figured if that were to happen by some chance, it’d be worth it if it meant staying here with him for just a little while longer.

“i love you too.”

[acidxinxwonderland]

corruption has never been so sweet

18 plus smut shot! Minors DNI!!!

Pairing: Glamrock Freddy x F!Reader Summary: Ever since you began taking the night shift as a security guard at the Mega Pizzaplex, Freddy always kept you company throughout the night. You were spoiled with his attention to say the very least, but the one time he doesn't show up you are bound and determined to find him. Once you do, it turns into a night the both of you will never forget.   

Warnings: Size difference, VERY strong ABO vibes, knotting, rutting, unrealistic sex, breeding briefly mentioned, dom feddy, marking, bonding, a little bit of blood, robot/human

Word Count: 6.5k  A/N: This is the most degenerate thing I have EVER written for Freddy, just pure self indulgence to tide me over while I write the longer fic involving him, hope you enjoy! As mentioned in the warnings this has STRONG ABO vibes, it's just written in my own way so be warned of the shameless smut, Freddy is basically an alpha. Also... I’m sorry LMAO. Keep your eyes out for a gender neutral version in the next few weeks for all you NBs out there B) Here is the ao3 link in case that’s more your style: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48255442

Being a night guard at the Mega Pizzaplex was always something you enjoyed since you began working here seven months back, despite all the walking and the sticky situations you have found yourself in you always felt comfort in a certain animatronic bear you've come to love dearly. This bear always made sure you had company during your nightly rounds, mindless chatter about his day and sharing fun jokes. Every night he would find you to walk along with you, yet tonight you haven’t seen him once.

You thought at first maybe he was in need of repairs and was stuck in parts and services for the night but when you checked to see he wasn’t there. He’s never done this to you before, it fills you with concern so you thought you might as well do a wellness check on your good friend.

You find yourself walking down Rockstar Row halfway into your shift, you weren’t supposed to survey this area yet but you just had to make sure he was okay. You peer into each green room, giving Chica a wave when passing hers while making your way to Freddy’s. While strolling past the large window you see a glimpse of him through a sliver of the red curtain, now that you know he was there you pick up your pace. You go to the door and immediately swipe your badge to slide it open.

Once the door was open you see Freddy was standing in front of the mirror, seemingly staring at his own reflection with his large hands on each side of the desk before snapping his attention towards you. It takes you seconds to realize something was off with him.

“Ah, hey Freddy. Just wanted to check in on you, I noticed you didn’t find me and well… Here I am.” You let out a small nervous chuckle, giving the robotic bear a kind smile.

“Superstar, I am truly sorry but… You must stay away tonight.” Freddy growls out in this deep, animalistic voice you never heard before, it causes the hairs to stand on the back of your neck. He pushes himself off from the mirrors table to take a step away from you. “I... I am not right.”

An expression of concern falls on your features while you notice his disheveled state. You were worried before but now the feeling was tenfold, wanting to help the animatronic you fell in love with.

“Not right? Well… I don’t mind being here if you need the support.” You say in a careful tone, almost as if you were talking to a wild animal. You take a step closer and he immediately goes back, causing a frown to tug at your lips.

“Please, it is not a good idea for you to be here at this moment.” While he talks you notice the way he rumbles each word in this dangerous tone that sends shivers up your spine.

“You could never scare me bud, I’m here for you. What’s going on with you? Do you have a glitch of some sorts?” You get even closer and this time he doesn’t back away, glowing blue optics zoning in on you.

“Do not act coy with me.” He grumbles out in that same deep tone. “Do not pretend like you do not know what is going on.” You’ve never heard him speak to you in such a way, feeling your heart plunging down to your stomach as the alarm bells in your head finally go off.

This time it was his turn to approach you and for you to back away. Although you don’t get very far, in a blink of an eye his immense paw-like hands enclose around your shoulders, continuing forward so he could roughly push you up against a wall.

“You must have done this to me, if not you then who else?” He snarls down at you, baring his fangs.

Your eyes widen, feeling the smallest sense of fear as you scramble to speak. “F-Freddy! I don’t k-know what you’re talking about!” You press your hands up against his chest plate, pushing at him despite knowing full well you would not be able to get him off of you no matter how much you tried.

“You don't?” He speaks sharply, leaning in closer to you with the look of a predator sizing its prey. “Then tell me why your scent alone has been affecting me so heavily? Why do you make me feel this way? You must have done something to me, corrupted me somehow.”

You are completely taken aback by his words, it almost felt like you were talking to an entirely different animatronic yet deep down you knew that this was still the same bear you love so dearly.

“I promise you, whatever is happening to you it has n-nothing to do with me. Please trust me on this.” You are desperate while you talk, giving him a pleading look in hopes of convincing him.

His grip on your shoulder loosens as he registers what you say, closing his eyes tightly to regain his composure. “You… Your voice, your scent.” He whispers, brows furrowing. His massive paw-like hands trail down your arm, seeming to begin to calm down..

His eyes slide open, giving you a look of remorse that brings you a sense of familiarity once again. “You’re right superstar, I am truly sorry for what I’ve just done. This was not appropriate of me at all. Please, you need- no, you have to leave.”

You feel a twinge of annoyance from his demand. “No.” You start sternly, shooting him a glare. “You really think I’m going to up and leave after what just happened? Something is clearly wrong Freddy. You’ve got to tell me bud, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“I-” He looks off to the side, reluctantly taking his hands away from your arms. “I don’t know exactly what I am experiencing but… I have an idea as to what it could be.” Freddy sounded so distraught, it was so strange for you to see him in such a state.

Your eyes soften from his clear confusion, still feeling deep concern for the bear in front of you.

“That’s okay that you don’t know.” You place a hand on his large arm and he appears to stiffen from your touch. “Why don’t you break it down, what are your um… Symptoms?” As soon as you asked this question his expression turned into one of shame.

He lets out a mechanical sigh, forcing himself to speak. “Well… Everything about you has been making me ache in a way I never felt before. This has been an issue since we first met, but recently it has gotten much worse. It’s been… Frustrating to say the least.”

Your eyes widened as he explained what was happening to him. A deep blush settles upon your cheeks as your already racing heart goes into turbo mode. What the hell was he even talking about?! Was he basically admitting he had sexual feelings towards you?

“W-what do you mean I make you ache. I-in what way?” You stutter out the question, convincing yourself that you had it all wrong.

“Do I really need to explain it?” Freddy growls out in this low, husky tone. You shudder out from his voice alone, body going rigid as he places a hand against the wall besides your head. “Although there is something I do know… The only reasonable explanation I have found for these feelings is a similar pattern of certain species of animals who are afflicted heavily when they enter a… mating season.” He cringes at the last words, having to look away from you in embarrassment.

You are in complete shock at his words, feeling your entire body get impossibly warm as your eyes flicker to his muzzle. You try to process what he is saying. Matching patterns of certain species of animals… He’s a robotic bear so that means…

“You’re- you’re experiencing a rut.” You bluntly state. “Because of me..? You don’t feel this way towards anyone else?”

“Yes superstar. You are the only one who is making me feel this way.” He mutters the answer out, groaning lowly. “It is just you. I’ve never experienced this before… I can’t think straight.”

The frustration was clear in his voice and you rub his large arm up and down soothingly. Despite the sympathy you feel towards him you feel like you are in a dream. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that the animatronic bear made to entertain was basically in heat and it’s all your fault. This whole situation causes your own arousal to stir deep within your core, trying your best to push past it as you give him a reassuring look.

“It’s going to be okay Freddy. Just try your best to relax for me, alright? Tell me, what’s going through your mind right now?” You keep your voice calm despite how you hear your own heart beat pounding wildly in your ears. You’re curious, having the need to know more.

“It’s like… My thoughts are muddled by your scent.” He says in a choked voice, obviously not too pleased to be confessing such things to you. “All I can think of is certain images of you, even before this. I tried my best to edit my own code when things got too confusing, but it got harder and harder every time, reappearing every time I see you. Now no matter what I do I can’t get rid of it.” He growls out the last part, frustrated beyond belief. “What have you done to me, superstar?”

All you can do for a few moments is stare up at him as the weight of his words sink in. He asked a very valid question, what did you do to him? You basically corrupted his programming merely by existing!

“Freddy, I am so sorry. I swear to you I did not mean to cause any of this.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Do you seriously think I somehow purposefully did this to you?!”

Freddy falls silent for a moment, looking down at the floor between the two of you. “I did think so, yes.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief and he looks back up at you with curious eyes. You let your head fall back against the wall you were still trapped against. “You realize how insane this is right?”

Freddy lets out a huff, leaning in closer. “You’re the one who made me like this superstar, whether you meant to or not.” His eyes flickered to your lips and you felt like you were going to die right then and there. A frustrated groan leaves him, finally pushing himself off of you and taking a step away. “The last measure I can take is to isolate myself completely until these feelings pass.”

You stay leaning up against the wall, eyes trailing up and down his large frame. If he isolates himself he wouldn’t be able to go through with his daily duties, it could get him in trouble, even decommissioned.

“It isn’t the last measure.” You murmur out, catching his attention.

“... What are you implying?” He cautiously asks.

You push yourself off the wall, taking a step towards him as your face feels warmer than ever before. “I’m implying,” You begin, taking his hand into yours. “I-I can help you. Since you’ve been honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. I have had desires for you since the day we met, both romantic and sexual. Since I am the one who caused this mess for you then I will fix it.”

Freddy stares at your linked hands, his brows knitting together. “Superstar… I…” He trails off before letting out a low growl that causes goose bumps to rise. “You do not need to do this. I am worried for your safety.” Despite his words he grabs onto your waist with his free hand and pulls you closer to him. “I do not wish to harm you.”

Warmth rushes to your cheeks as you are brought up against him, mustering a smile of reassurance. “Hey, you warned me, didn’t you? If I end up getting hurt somehow, it’ll be my fault, not yours. I’m coming into this knowing what is in store for me.” You untangle your hand with his to place it against his jaw, watching with interest as he immediately leaned into your touch. “Rut or not, I know you. I don't think you could ever seriously injure me even if you wanted to. Let me help you.”

Freddy’s face softens at your words, the hand on your waist tightens. “Are you sure…?” He asks with hesitation in his tone.

“I’m sure Freddy. But… How are we going to do this, because erm, as far as I know you’re pretty much a ken doll.” You glance down and he tilts his head to the side.

“Ken doll…?” He repeats quizzically.

“Yeah, like, not having a penis.” Your face flushes, looking off to the side as he leans in to you, his muzzle right next to your ear.

“If you must know, superstar. I am very well endowed.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “Oh… I um, I see.” You muster out, feeling so taken aback in the moment. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him.

“Does this change anything?” He questions you in a tone dripping with yearning. He brings his hand up to your face, placing a gentle finger underneath your chin and tilting your head up towards him. “You must tell me now, I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

You feel your heart skip a beat from the gentle touch, the bear you fell in love with shining through. You stare up at him now, eyes searching his own. It was clear your silence felt like eternity to him, his grip tightening on your waist to the point it almost hurt. You didn’t allow yourself to over think, finally giving him a firm nod.

“Nothing has changed. I want you.”

Freddy’s blue optics darken at your words, it appeared that was all you needed to say. He didn’t say anything else, lifting your body up with his powerful arms to push you back up against the wall.

His muzzle clashes against your lips with greed, It was cold from his alloy but you can feel every ounce of hunger from him through the gesture. Your arms fall around his neck, squeezing your eyes closed as you return the kiss with matched desire. You were already dizzy by the entire thing, feeling the air from your lungs escape you until he finally pulls away to bury his face in your neck while letting out a guttural growl.

“You smell so good my star.” Freddy rumbles, using his mouth to nip at the skin that causes small whimpers to leave your lips due to how sensitive you are. “Gods, and you sound so good too. I have been wanting you for so long.” He presses his hips firmly against your clothed sex, the feeling makes you drip with arousal.

“Freddy.” You whine out, starting to helplessly grind up against him. “M-me too. So, so long. I need you.”

“And you have me.” He murmurs possessively, one of his hands sliding down to your bottom and giving a firm squeeze. He swiftly runs his claw through the buttons of your shirt, popping each one off the material to expose your bare chest.

He leans back to look down at you, a low groan leaving him just from the mere sight of you. “Pretty girl.” Freddy rolls his hips up against yours, squeezing his eyes tight from the feeling it provided.

You take his clear sensitivity to your advantage, rubbing into him hard and fast as moans tumble out past your mouth. “Oh my sweet star.” He groans, keeping you held up with one hand as the other goes in between your legs to press the palm of his hand up against your sex.

You squirm in place as the feelings of pleasure crash down onto you, everything is going so fast and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He pushes up into your wet heat with a low growl, peering down at you with predatory optics.

“I am going to make you mine.” He snarls, bearing his teeth before ripping the front of your leggings and underwear with his claws in one go. You would yell at him for ruining your clothes if it wasn’t for his large knuckle pressing down onto your clit. You let out a sharp gasp as he moves against your engorged nub before plunging a finger deep inside of you with no warning.

Your head hits hard against the wall behind you, his finger was so big, even just that filled you up. He wiggled it back and forth, letting out a small grunt. “You are soaking wet superstar, no wonder your scent affects me so heavily.” He marvels in a gruff tone, beginning to slip his finger in and out of you at a brisk pace.

“Oh, oh fuck Freddy. God, please.” Your mouth was agape, panting out while you flutter around the intrusion, your mind was already going blank and it only gets worse when he shoves a second finger into your hole.

He leans down to bite at the neck as if he was claiming his prize, making you buck up against him as he sets a brutal pace. He pushes you harder up against the wall and you swear you see stars.

“I can’t hold back anymore superstar. I must take you now.” He warns in a low tone.

Your nails dig into the paint of his metal, feeling your thighs tremble from his words. “Take me, please take me.” You babble, scratching at his surface with eyes full of carnal desire. “I need it so badly.”

As soon as you give him full consent he pulls his fingers out, keeping you in place against the wall while he shuffles a little away from you. Your eyes trail down to his pelvic plate with bated breath, feeling eager to see what was underneath. You watch as it slides open and the large, girthy shaft emerges makes you audibly gasp. Never have you seen something such as this, it didn’t even look human, covered in soft silicone skin that looked ever so tantalizing.

“I cannot guarantee you this will not be a bit painful.” His words rumble out of him in a deep guttural pitch.

“I can handle a little pain.” You murmur out, goggling at the exotic cock right in front of you, noticing the knot at the base that makes your heart sink.

“I know you can, my superstar.” Freddy grabs the base, pumping it before lining it up to your dripping hole, he lets out a low groan as he pushes the engorged head inside of you. “My gods.” He squeezed his eyes closed once again, it was clear he was trying his best to take it slow for you as he pushed into you.

Your back arches as the large shaft stretches you out thoroughly, letting out a strangled cry from the burning sensation deep inside of you. “Oh- oh my god, you’re so fucking big.” You look down, the sight of his cock making its way inside of you made you feel like you were going to faint.

“Bear with it.” He grunts, leaning in till your foreheads touch. “You can do it, you can take it.” The hand once on his member went down to your clit, rubbing at it in an attempt to outweigh the pain with pleasure.

You let out whimpers, getting completely lost in the moment. You buck your hips, causing his cock to push in even deeper and making you both let out a gasp. He was all the way inside you now, his pronounced head pushing up against your cervix almost painfully.

Your legs kick up into the air instinctively as he continues to stimulate your sensitive nub, clenching tight around him and making him let out a long sigh of pleasure.

“Y-you can go. Please go, give me your all.” You don’t even recognize yourself as you speak, finally realizing you needed this just as much as he did.

Freddy doesn’t say a word, grabbing onto your waist with a bruising grip while drawing himself out almost all the way before slamming right back into your tight heat. Your hole gives and stretches under the assault, a loud crying ripping through your throat as he begins to pump in and out of you at a barbaric speed.

You feel your body slide up against the wall only to be pulled right back down onto his cock, the intense pounding making your eyes roll to the back of your head, only able to moan out in ecstasy as his animalistic grunts mix in.

“Take it all superstar, offer yourself to me completely. Become mine.” He huffs out in this possessive tone that makes you shiver.

“I’m yours, I’m all yours!” You gasp out, trying to adjust to the cock ramming in and out of you with no remorse. “Oh, oh god, you-you’re going to make me cum!”

“Already?” He growls, letting out a deep chuckle. “Let go for me starlight, let me see you come undone.”

That’s all you needed to hear, your wet walls clamping hard around him as you get thrown into a hard climax, practically screaming as he fucks you through it. He lets out a long groan as you convulse around him, your mind going completely blank as you continue to cry out.

“Good girl.” Freddy praises through grunts, thrusting into you with unrestrained movements that are making you lose your mind. “Feel so good wrapped around me, so tight.”

He completely pulls out of you, leaving you confused before he grabs you with his rough hands and walks over to the plush red couch in his green room. He throws you on it, fisting his cock while giving you a dangerous look.

“Hands and knees.” He orders and with the tone he used it was clear there was no room for hesitation.

You scramble into position, keeping your lower half high in the air as if you were presenting to him. “Please give me more.” You whine, swaying your hips from side to side.

Freddy lets out a deep groan just from the sight of you. You feel the cushion dip as he gets into position, one knee on the couch with his other foot planted on the ground.

“Oh I’m going to give it to you alright.” He gruffs, grabbing a hold of each side of your hips before shoving himself right back into your tight hole. You don’t even get a split second to adjust, continuing that relentless pace he set before. The new angle does wonders for you, shouting out in pleasure and pain from the way he hit your cervix.

Every thrust sends your body lurching forward, his strong grip on you was the only reason you weren’t on the other side of the couch by now. You try to lift your upper half to look back at him but he places a hand on your back and shoves you right down onto the cushions.

“Stay down.” He snarls riotously, digging the claws on your hip into your skin.

You comply, clawing at the couch underneath you as you helplessly cry out. You can can't even really hear yourself, the sound of your heart hammering in your ears as you feel your walls open up for him more and more, the pleasure piling on.

“Who do you belong to, superstar?” You barely hear his question but as soon as it registers you don’t think twice.

“You! I belong to you!” You buck back against him, hungry for more. You feel yourself lost in the sensation, focused on him and how good he was making you feel. The drag of his big textured cock along your walls was driving you to the brink of insanity.

“Let me mark you superstar. I want to claim you as my own. Be mine and only mine.” His hand goes into your hair, tugging it upwards to make your back arch while savagely grunting with each thrust. He leans down, covering your body with his own as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

You were willing to do anything to please him, tears welling up in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure as you babble out. “Yes! I’ll be y-yours. Mark me!”

As soon as you give the go ahead his sharp fangs sink into the junction of your neck, making you weep out in both pain and pleasure. You feel him break skin, a small stream of warmth trickling down your neck.

After a few moments he lets go, keeping himself pressed up against your back as he humps into your twitching tunnel. “All mine, my mate.” He nuzzles into your neck and you relish in his affection. “You’re my good girl, do you have any idea how long I have waited to claim my prize?”

You can’t even muster the strength to answer him as lewd noises tumble out of your mouth, letting out a yelp as his cock hits the perfect spot. “Fuck, oh, oh yes Freddy, r-right there!”

Once again you are pushed into a hard climax, squeezing down onto his massive cock as your own juices run down your thighs. “Oh, oh my god!” He lets go of your hair and you fall down onto the cushions, weakly clawing at the fabric as you feel your energy getting zapped from you. He didn’t slow down, ruthlessly slamming into you repeatedly.

“Take it.” He speaks close to your ear, using your slick juices to pave the way for more wild, frenzied thrusts. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You writhe underneath him, not being able to keep up with the massive shaft pumping into your quivering core. Before you know it he pulls out once again to flip you onto your back, grabbing onto your legs and pushing them high into the air towards your body before slamming right back in. The new angle made you scream out in ecstasy, staring up at him with wide, tear filled eyes.

You enjoyed this position, being able to see the giant bear in full view as he violently fucks your tight cunt raw. Your face contorted in pleasure, calling out his name over and over again like a mantra. His paw goes back to your clit, only needing to give the slightest of friction before you cum again, your back arching off the couch as you go through the motions of a hard climax.

“That’s a good girl. Look at you, my sweet little prey. I’m going to breed you so good.”

Something about him saying that to you made you realize the true power he had over you, something you have never let anyone else have.

“Oh, oh fuck, please F-Freddy, please!”

Freddy grunts out savagely, his giant paw enclosing around your neck as he leans in closer, carnal lust evident in his blue eyes. “Please what superstar, what do you want?”

You feel your face flush from his question, panting out harshly as you feel his member twitch inside of you. His thrusts became more shallow, pounding in so deep you feel shock waves pulsing through your much smaller body.

“P-please, please breed me!” You feel embarrassed from your own words, wanting to look away but keeping your hazy eyes full of tears trained on his own. “I-I need it, I need you to cum inside of me.”

Your pleading appeared to only make him more aggressive, his clawed hand tightening around your neck to restrict your breathing.

“Superstar,” He struggled to get out what he needed to say in between each feral grunt that came from deep within. “You belong to me until the end of time. My mate… Mine!” He roars out the last word, shoving himself deep inside of you and pushing his knot into your hole.

You let out a soundless cry, body going limp as you feel thick ropes of his seed coating your insides. Tears slip down your cheek, enjoying the burning pain from the stretch of his knot as you rasp out breaths. “Oh, oh Freddy.” You gasp, trying your best to wrap your head around all that had just happened between the two of you.

“My sweet superstar.” He bellows, looking down at you with pure affection. His large arms wrap around your waist carefully, picking you up into a tight embrace. His hands rub up and down your shaking body, pressing his muzzle against your hair. “You did so wonderfully, took it all so well.”

You keep your head buried in his neck, panting out against metal as you feel a deep sense of comfort from his affectionate words. “F-Freddy,” You manage to murmur out despite how empty your head felt at the moment. “I love you… I love you so much.”

Freddy’s caresses pause for just a moment, making you feel as though you shouldn’t have said that to him. Just as you were about to back track he held you even tighter.

“You have no idea how long I have waited to hear you say those words to me. I love you too. If I had a heart, it is yours to possess.”

Tears well up in your eyes from his words, nuzzling into him happily. You stay there for a moment, trying your best to regain your composure but it seems almost impossible.

You finally lean back, wincing from the throbbing knot embedded inside of you. “A-are you um, are you feeling better now?” You ask shyly, looking off to the side.

Freddy lets out a deep hum, his large hand falling onto your cheek and pushing your face back up towards his. “Yes, much better. All thanks to my sweet star.” He leans down to press his mouth against your forehead. “It’ll come back eventually, but I am not worried about it now with you by my side.”

He brings you closer, tucking your head underneath his chin as he rocks back and forth to soothe you. “Are you alright? I am sorry for how rough I was with you, I truly could not hold back.”

“‘M alright.” You murmur, having a hard time stringing words and thoughts together. “It hurt a bit but… I liked it a lot.”

“I’m glad to hear it, I liked it too. Although I did imagine our first time together to be a bit… Sweeter. Yet I am still content knowing you are mine now.” He trails his hand up your shoulder and to your neck, gently pressing down onto the mark he gave you earlier. “You do understand the meaning behind this, right superstar? We are bonded now, never will I do this with another.”

You feel your face get warm, moving back to stare up at him. “Neither will I.” You give him a weak smile, placing your hand over his and letting out a shaky sigh.

He leans in, brushing his muzzle against your lips affectionately, massaging at your neck with his large fingers. “I want you more than any physical pleasure could ever give me… Looks like I’ll have to properly court you now.”

You let out a breathless laugh, looking down at where you are locked together. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

“Perhaps… But I promise you next time will be a lot more gentle, alright?”

“Gentle or not, I don’t care. I’m just g-glad we have this now. Although it’s hard to believe me of all the people in the world made you feel this way. I’m honored honestly, but I also felt a little bad… You seemed so distressed earlier.”

“There is no need to feel bad my star.” He says affectionately, tucking a strand of wayward hair behind your ear before continuing. “You eased my pain in a way no one else could. It is you who made everything worthwhile.” His voice tapers off into a muffled sigh, glancing away from you with a worried look.

“I’m sorry… If I scared you earlier. I was just so confused, and angry. It was so much more manageable at the start but when you were the only thing on my mind, it was frustrating.”

Now it was your turn to grab his face to have him look back at you. “To tell you the truth, it was a little scary. But it was also pretty hot.” Freddy’s eyes widen from your confession and you let out a laugh. “You’re always so sweet and caring, I never pegged you to be a dominant kinda bear in this way.”

“I have plenty of tricks up my sleeves.” He chuckles deeply, leaning in to pepper kisses along your face. “If I had sleeves of course.” Freddy nuzzles into your hair and you soak up his affection like a cat bathing in the sun. “Now… How sore are you?” He uses his hand to tilt your chin up for your eyes to meet.

You get lost in the glowing blue optics, your walls twitching around the shaft stuffed deep inside of you. “Pretty sore, I can feel some bruises forming and I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk straight but other than that I am very satisfied. I think this will be all that I’m thinking about over the weekend.”

Freddy huffs out a small laugh. “Oh trust me superstar, we will have plenty of more times like this to think about. Soon all you’ll be able to think of is me using this sweet little body of yours.” You let out a squeak from his words, hiding your face in your hands as your cheeks become a bright red. “Awe, I’m sorry, did I make you shy?”

“W-what do you think?” You murmur out into your hands, peeking up at him through your fingers to see the amused look on his face. You feel even more embarrassed, why did he have to be so suave?! You shift in place, letting out a small gasp from the feeling of him still deep inside of you.

“Um… How long do you think this is going to last?” You ask, gesturing towards where the two of you are connected.

“That is a very good question, superstar. I sadly do not know, this is the first time I’ve ever done this with someone.” His eyes lock down to the area, one of his hands running up your thigh. “Although you do look quite beautiful like this, perhaps I should make you stay here forever?”

You let out a giggle, rolling your eyes. “That will get both you and me into some pretty big trouble. But… It does feel really good i-inside of me.” You confess.

“Does it now? Because I swear I am in heaven.” He lets out a low hum, his finger dragging over your hip bone and causing you to shudder. He falls silent for a moment, playing with the hem of the shirt he ripped open. “Your poor clothes, I apologize, I promise once we are free I will find you a fresh pair to change into.”

You shrug your shoulders, looking down at yourself. You looked like a mess yet you didn’t mind it. “It’s alright, I’ve got plenty of these shirts and plenty of leggings. The only thing I want right now is you.”

“Then you shall have me my sweet star, till the end of time.” He leans in, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips that makes you melt. “We’ll get you something proper to eat and drink after this too, you have zapped a lot of your energy.”

All you can do is stare up at him with pure admiration, he was so caring, you can’t help but feel like he was made for you and no one else. You begin to feel a little emotional, tears building up and threatening to spill. He notices this quickly, a look of concern in his eyes but you are quick to express your feelings, wrapping your arms around his thick neck.

“Freddy, I love you, I really do.”

Freddy’s eyes soften, pressing his muzzle up against your forehead as his arms wrap around your waist.

“Oh my sweet star… I truly don’t think I could ever get used to hearing you say such a thing to me. I love you too, more than I could ever express.”

Those three words held such a deep meaning, you agreed with him, you will never get used to this. Just look at you, a human girl now officially in a relationship with a giant animatronic bear. You have so many questions about this whole situation, so much to explore with him, but you can do that later.

“You know…” You begin, letting out a brief chuckle. “This is quite the scandal you got yourself into Mr. Fazbear. We have to be careful, okay? We can’t let anyone find out.”

Freddy nods his head, moving his hand to lightly trace your cheek. “You are right, we will have to be discreet and take many precautions. I am willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“To keep me safe?” You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. He was so selfless, such a sweet bear. “Don’t forget about yourself. The worst thing for me is going to jail, but I’d stay there a lifetime if that means you can continue on. Just please remember the risk, okay?”

“I am willing to take this risk if it means I can stay by your side.” His claw traces over the curves of your lips, his eyes fixated on them with a fascinated look. “My beautiful girl… I will hold onto every moment of this night.”

He leans in to press his cold muzzle up against your warm lips. A shiver runs down your spine, letting out a happy, tired sigh through the kiss. Once you pull apart he lays his forehead on yours, a hand running up and down your back soothingly.

“As long as we are together, nothing can truly hurt us.” Freddy's voice is confident like everything else about him.

You were more sure than ever going into this. The direction of where this relationship was heading only filled you with a sense of excitement, you still can’t tell whether this is a dream or not. You lean into him, letting your eyes fall closed as you feel completely relaxed for the first time in a long while.

You were his and he was yours, you wouldn't have it any other way.

[diorgirl444]

seven minutes of hell or dallas winston and his soc! rival are stuck playing seven minutes of heaven together

warnings: bad writing! (girlies i’ve never kissed anyone or flirted so my expression only comes from writing fanfiction so it may not be the most realistic i’m afraid), fem! reader, very self indulgent, i’m also aware that realistically socs and greasers probably wouldn’t be round the curtis brothers house together but like if you wanted realism you wouldn’t be be reading dallas winston fanfiction would you considering he’s canonically dead lol 😭, weak ending, 903 words <3

you’re going to strangle Cherry Valance after this. when she invited you and your other friends out for the evening not once did she think to mention that you were going to that side of town…

not that you have anything wrong with the Curtis brothers, they’re all lovely and very nice-looking. nor do you have a problem with any of their other friends who despite what you might think are all very sweet apart from the insufferable Dallas Winston. and you suppose it makes sense because if she had said that he was going then you would have spent another night reading shitty romance books alone in your bedroom. but still, there is no one you can’t stand more than Dallas Winston. he’s snarky and callous and violent - and beautiful.

yes, you’re not blind even you can recognize that he’s exactly your type but he pushed your buttons like nothing else with the way he patronizingly calls you “princess” and takes every opportunity to drive you absolutely up the wall. you two bicker like night and day whenever you cross paths so you honestly don’t know what Cherry was thinking. and despite that, you assumed it couldn’t get any worse. what could be worse than a party with the boy who makes you red in the face and with a desperate urge to wrap your arms around his neck and - let's not go there?

well, you were wrong anyway it can get worse and it did. because as Daryl’s taking Ponyboy to bed some wise guy (two-bit) suggests that the rest of you play seven minutes of heaven. it is quite possibly the most juvenile thing you’ve ever done and you and every intention of sitting out till surprise, surprise Dallas makes a snarky comment.

“what too good to kiss a greaser is that it princess?”

you flush angrily clearly the fact that you’re at this stupid get-together should prove that you don’t harbour any of that foolish class nonsense. you roll your eyes as you take a seat. fine, you’ll play one stupid round of this silly game you think as you spin the bottle hoping to get it over and done with. with any luck, you’ll get Johnny or something who won’t want to do anything but talk.

but no that would just be so easy so instead the Coca-Cola bottle reaches its final spot right in front of the worst person it could ever be. even he has the decency to look embarrassed with the tips of his ears tinging themselves red and taking a long swig of his beer.

“I can spin again” you shrug awkwardly not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“you can’t cheat the bottle girly” he tells you as he sets his drink down and stands up expecting you to follow after him. you can feel everyone’s gaze on your neck as you silently walk into the small cupboard with him. you hear the click of the lock and you're plunged into total darkness. your back presses up against the wall and his tall frame awkwardly clashes against yours. you can hear him muttering various expletives under his breath. god, you’re not that bad surely. the silence is loud and awkward. you swallow heavily before speaking.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask softly before you think it through. cheeks flushing so you’re grateful for the dark.

he scoffs “You think I hate you…” he says it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you feel insecure as you speak again, voice small and weak as you try to explain why. “well like you call me stupid things and you make fun of me and-“

he interrupts you before you continue “I call you princess 'cause you remind me of one. I wind you up because it means you look at me and you get this cute little flush on your cheeks. I don’t hate you and man I hate all that sappy stuff but I do seriously like you doll”

“wow” is all you can manage, taking in what he’s saying.

”you know this is the point where you say that you like me too sweetheart” he teases you but you’re sure theres a small twinge of insecurity in his voice and you haven’t heard a more wonderful thing in your life. he likes you.

you kiss him of course. you pull him down by the collar of his leather jacket and press your lips against his and it’s perfect. his hands wrap around your waist and he tastes like the beer and it’s perfect. you want to stay like that forever. you can hear the beach boys playing on the record play in the other room and idly you wonder why it sounds like it’s getting louder and why the room seems to have gotten brighter.

”seven minutes is up lovebirds” you hear Soda’s teasing voice ring out.

immediately you jump out of Dallas's grip like you’ve been burnt.

all your friends are gathered by the doors and are watching as Two-bit hands a dollar over to Cherry who is saying “told you they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other”

before you can say anything else Dallas snaps at them that the games are over and he shuts the door plunging you into two obscurity again as he pulls you in.

“eager are we?” you say laughing against his lips.

“very” he says faux seriously before kissing you again.

you decide that you’re eager too.

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

[partially-controlled-chaos]

Indulgence: Something Sweeter

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: E (Explicit) 18+, MDNI/NSFW Warnings: Kind of porn without plot, but most of the plot is in the previous section of this. Fingering, oral (m receiving and GN receiving), finger licking/sucking, nipple play, penetrative sex in orifice of your choosing, biting, predator play if you squint really hard. Summary: Halsin has always struggled with indulging in the more pleasurable aspects of life. However, with the shadow curse lifted and your group now on the road to Baldur's Gate, you and Halsin find time to indulge in a bit of fun and a sweet treat before retiring for the evening. Word Count: 12.8K (7.5k of which is smut about 1/3 of the way down) a/n: As usual, this took me significantly longer and ended up much wordier than I had originally anticipated, but that seems to be my thing. I tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible and I think I did well with it, but keep in mind that I just self insert my Tav when writing so if there are mentions of a gendered reader, I'm very sorry. Anyway, this is a follow up to another fic I posted a little while ago, but you don't have to read that in order to read this one. This one is main all about the smut, but if you'd like to know the context behind some things as well as the tension build up, you can find the first part linked below! I've written smut before and I've posted a few snippets here and there, but I've never posted an entire fic for it so I'm about to post this and dip out for the night. Thank you so much to everyone that has left love on the first part of this!

Read on AO3 here if you prefer! Part 1 of this fic can be found here. Masterlist

The area surrounding the town Rivington was uncomfortably hot and incessantly muggy, days of rain left the air humid even after the sun had long set below the horizon. Given the heat of the day and the exhaustion that had come with it, you and your party had decided to camp early for the evening, ready to get a good nights rest before arriving in Rivington and ultimately into Baldur’s Gate. The last remaining rays of sunshine had turned a vibrant orange with streaks of gold, giving you barely enough light to see what you were doing without causing injury to yourself.

Sweat lazily rolled down the back of your neck, tickling the hair at the nape as you focused on steading your hand. The sharpened blade of your knife gently sliced through the soft, malleable wax of the honeycomb you were carefully trying to harvest from the beehive hovering above you. You turned your blade slowly as you cut, gently nudging the occasional honeybee out of the way with the tip of your finger as to avoid harming them. You were precariously balanced on the stump of a dead tree that you’d pulled to the hive and wedged between the roots of the tall oak that you stood before. 

You managed to slice a decent sized chunk of honeycomb from the tree, holding it carefully between your fingers to keep from crushing it as you bent your knees into a squat. You dropped the fresh honeycomb into a glass jar that that sat nestled between your mud covered boots, your fingers clutching the bark with your nails to keep yourself steady. As you stood back up to collect more of the honeycomb, you could hear the ever growing buzz of the bees you were dangerously close to upsetting. You stuck your knife back into the wax, beginning to slice again as you heard a slow stride of footsteps approach.

“And how many stings have you collected this evening, my friend?” The deep rumble of Halsin’s voice carried through the silence of the forest. He referenced your run in with a hive of angry bees from a few nights prior, having been stung multiple times in an attempt to get a jar of honey after a strong craving for something sweet. By the end of the night, you wound up sitting cross legged in Halsin’s tent as he meticulously pulled bee stingers from numerous welts across any bit of exposed skin.

“Your humor escapes me sometimes, did you know that?” You asked as you peered over your shoulder, offering a playful smile  to Halsin as he joined you, standing by your side as you attempted to balance yourself on your tree stump. Your balance was unfortunately short lived as a bee zipped by your head, making you duck as a reflex. Given that you weren’t the most graceful person to walk amongst your group, you quickly lost your footing and starting the quick fall backwards.

Thankfully, like he had done at the pond a few nights prior, Halsin managed to catch you before you left the top of your stump. However, instead of taking him down with you, Halsin’s stance was firm and was able to support your weight. His hands quickly grabbed the back of your thighs, which were at chest level for him because of the height given to you by your makeshift stool, and held you firmly. With a light shove, he pushed you back into your stool and held you until you had regained your footing.

“Just as caution escapes you.” He said as he continued to brace his large hands against the back of your thighs, holding them firmly in his grasp. Your heart fluttered as you felt him pressing against you, clearing your throat before returning your knife to the honeycomb. You sliced another chunk from the hive, dropping the sweet treat into the open jar as Halsin offered it to you, having taken it from between your feet. Satisfied with the fullness of the jar, you cleaned your knife on the rim before sheathing it back against your hip.

“I’ll have you know that you’re the only reason I’m here.” You said as you hopped down from your tree stump, sticking your fingers in your mouth to clean them of any remaining honey.

“If my memory serves me,” he said as he wiped the rim of the jar with his finger, “I don’t believe we declared a winner for that little game of ours. Instead, you toppled into the lake and took me with you.” You chuckled at the thought, remembering night fondly. You had promised each other a jar of fresh honey for whoever could skip a stone the farthest across a lake at your previous camp, but the night had ended with you both in the lake and aching for a kiss. You had longed for more with Halsin even before that fateful night, but since then it had been a burning desire that gnawed at your heart. 

“We didn’t, but we both know I certainly win that little game. And I’m afraid we’re running out of time for another chance.” Your eyes remained on his finger, watching as it circled the rim of the jar and cleaned it of any honey that had dribbled down the side.

“I’m afraid it does.” Halsin said softly, a hint of sadness flickering in his voice, suggesting he shared your sentiment. You both stood there quietly, unsure of what to say next or where to take the remainder of the evening. 

The shine of the leftover honey on Halsin’s forefinger caught your eye, tempting you to take a taste of it for yourself. You eyed the thick droplet of honey that threatened to drip onto the forest floor below, gently biting your lip as you tried to fight back the urge that had suddenly come over you. Unlike Halsin, you always had much less self control over your actions and frequently dove into impulsive thoughts with reckless abandon. With that in mind, you took Halsin’s hand in your own, eyeing the thick, amber colored syrup on his finger for a moment before sticking the entirety of his forefinger into your watering mouth.

They honey was sweet and thick against your tongue, a delightful treat that briefly alleviated the stress of day. Given just how sticky and fresh the honey was, you were unable to quickly clean Halsin’s finger of the substance. Your tongue wrapped around the tip of his finger, swirling the digit briefly before pressing the extremity to the roof of your mouth and suckling gently. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet Halsin’s, holding his stare as you diligently licked and sucked the honey from his finger teasingly slow. 

Halsin’s heart beat rapidly against his chest, pounding against the inside of his ribcage as he watched and felt every second of your tongue dancing across his skin. Your tongue was soft and wet, caressing every bit of skin you came across with a delicate touch. However, there was a bit of roughness from time to time, the feeling of your tastebuds prickled against him as you continued to lick. With your tongue pressing his finger to the roof of your mouth, you had created a deliciously tight suction around his finger, making it throb in tune with his steadily pounding heart. The suction was strong enough that even if he wanted to, Halsin would have had difficulty removing his finger from your mouth.

Halsin felt the all too familiar of tension of arousal forming in his shoulders and neck as his skin began to grow warm. The promise that you had made to each other for a secluded night away to indulge in each other had yet to come to fruition, something always interrupting the peaceful camp nights to prevent you from sneaking away, and you both were growing restless. You and Halsin had almost made it a game of seeing how worked up you could get the other, all with the hope of the following night to finally be the night where you could drop all responsibilities for a few hours and simply lose each other in kisses and caresses. 

Halsin was much better at the spoken teasings. His words were able to quickly make your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, leaving you longing for more of his praises and composed flirtations. You, on the other hand, were much more efficient at teasingly soft physical contact; a sweeping brush of your shoulder against his bare arm as you walked your path towards Baldur’s Gate, your thigh just barely touching his own while sitting around the campfire, and even a lingering touch when you happened to brush hands with each other. This, on the other hand, was the most forward you’d been since you had both skipped stones together a few nights prior. You were growing impatient with waiting; you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

After you were certain his finger had been thoroughly cleaned of any remaining bits of honey, you slowly pulled your mouth from him, making sure that when he finally passed through the tight ring of your lips there was a resounding pop. You looked over your work, making sure you were satisfied with the cleanliness you’d offered before letting his hand drop back to his side. He cocked his head at you with a look of disbelief, surprised at your boldness only a few meters from your campmates.

“What?” You asked playfully, “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.” You offered a coy smile to Halsin before turning on your heels, promptly making your way back to camp to join your other companions for the march ahead in the morning, leaving the druid standing under the heavy cloak of the oak tree with a blush on his cheeks and a sudden tightness in his trousers, the jar of honey still in his hand. 

Halsin was sure that if he didn’t act now, a chance of having a night alone with you under the stars would never happen. Tomorrow, you and your team would arrive at Baldur’s Gate, the end of your journey together rapidly approaching each day that passed, and very soon he was certain you would part ways. You had both been waiting for the ideal moment when the camp was asleep and you could slip away together quietly, but the opportunity had yet to present itself. Between attacks from lingering cultists and interruptions from whatever creature lurked in the artifact you carried, a peaceful evening where you could indulge in the other was nearly impossible to come by. Halsin wanted a night with you, desperately, and he was sure you did as well, but if that were to happen it needed to happen now.

You felt Halsin’s hands secure themselves around your waist with a grip that wasn’t firm enough to actually hurt, but enough to maneuver you around as he wished. He pressed your back along the rough bark of the tree, far enough away from the still calm beehive that you could no longer hear the faint buzzing of the residents inside. Your foot knocked against the jar of honey he had dropped when he reached for you, leaving it to the ground for now as you came face to face with the druid. Halsin’s pupils had dilated when you looked up to him, noting that the pulse point in his neck was thumping rapidly.

“You have been teasing me with that touch of yours for days now.” Halsin’s voice was low against your ear, a slight waver to his voice as hot breath that came out in quick pants tickled the hair on your neck. He loomed over you, his forearms braced against the tree as his mouth hung teasingly close to yours. You could see his chest heave with each breath, pressing against the fabric of his camp clothes with each carefully controlled inhale. Despite his usually calm demeanor, you could see the self control beginning to crack and the long suppressed warmth of excitement begin to peek through. 

“And yet,” you whispered, “you’ve done nothing about it.” Halsin cocked his head slightly to one side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Although you weren’t completely incorrect with your statement, he took no offense. You were both aware of the lack of opportune moments that the road to Baldur’s Gate offered since your night together in the woods, so if anything, he took your words as an invitation to finally act on long suppressed impulses.

“Then I believe it’s high time I change that, hmm?” Halsin asked softly, your own heart beginning to increase in speed as the reality of the moment set in. Halsin’s eyes closed as he readied himself to steal the kiss from you that he’d been fantasizing about for weeks now, but you hadn’t quite finished in your teasing of the druid just yet. Before his lips could brush yours, you ducked under his arm, rolling against your shoulder until you pushed off the tree and out from under his frame before flitting around to the opposite side.

Halsin’s head lifted, a quizzical look crossing his face as his gaze followed the path you had taken around the tree, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of you. He kept this hand along the bark of the tree, dragging it along as he walked around, surprised to see that you had seemingly disappeared. Although you were not as sneaky as some of your other campmates, you were light on your feet compared to Halsin, giving you an advantage in the game you had started. 

With his attention still focused on finding you at some point along the tree, you had managed to quietly slip around the whole of the oak, quietly stepping behind the druid. You ran the tips of your fingers lightly against the top of his hand, noting how the hair on his arm prickled at your touch. Halsin swung his body in the direction you had come from, his heart rate picking up when he realized you were teasing him even more. He was met with another empty space, finding that you had vanished yet again. Taking a few steps forward, Halsin creeped along the tree the best he could, hoping to find out on the other side.

A tingle ran up his spine when he felt your nails lightly scratch over his lower back through his tunic, a low growl coming from his lips as he quickly reached one of his large arms behind him in an attempt to grab your arm before you could scurry away again. However, you had evaded him once more, leaving him to begin his hunt around the tree yet again. Halsin’s ears perked and his gaze flicked to a nearby tree at the sound of a soft whistle, smirking to himself when his gaze finally landed on you. You had managed to dart to a tree further in the woods, lazily leaning against the trunk as you waited for him to follow. 

Halsin’s fingers lingered on the tree as he stepped away, slowly approaching you in your new spot. Your eyes fell to his hips, entranced with the way they swung with his distinctive gait. His manner of walking was always something that grabbed your attention, having learned early on that there were a few traits from the bear that bled into Halsin’s day-to-day life and his walking pace was certainly one of them. As he stepped closer to you, your eyes traveled up from his waist and met his eyes, which were filled with an equal mixture of lust and excitement. When he finally made his way, Halsin reached for you with a hand that trembled ever so lightly with excitement.

Before his hand could make contact with you, you had taken a step back and disappeared behind a tree once again, clearly set on continuing your little game. You both quickly fell into a rhythm of teasing touches and quick darts to the next tree. As much as you enjoyed simply teasing the usually calm man reaching out for you, you had other reasons. You wanted to get far enough away from camp so you could indulge in a bit of privacy if things processed the way you expected, not wanting to be disturbed by a feathered companion or someone coming to investigate any peculiar noises emanating from a bit of shrubbery.  

You twirled and weaved your way deeper into the forest, the sounds clanking pots and laughter filled conversations from camp were slowly dying down, gradually replaced with the soft, lulling sounds of a warm night. The approaching silence made it much harder for you to scamper away undetected, allowing for a few close calls of being caught in the large hands of the druid steadily pursuing you. Admittedly, this only added to the excitement of the evening. Something about narrowly escaping from a man who spent a large portion of his time as a predator stirred something in your abdomen, leaving you with a light tingle at the thought.

Your game continued for quite some time with you leading Halsin further and further into the forest. By the time you had reached a large willow tree seated by the edge of another pond, you were satisfied with your distance from camp. You pressed your back along the trunk of the tree, allowing yourself a quick moment of rest while you listened for the footsteps that had been following you. However, you were only met with silence. You heard or saw nothing from Halsin, realizing now that you were no longer in control of your little game.

With your back to the water you peered around the trunk of the willow, curiously looking for any signs for the elf that had previously been hot on your trail. You found no signs of Halsin, beginning to think you had potentially left him behind a few trees back. The forest was peacefully quiet, save for the choir of crickets chirping in the distant grass and the occasional croak of frogs somewhere closer to the water. You stepped slowly and quietly around the edge of the tree, your breath leaving your mouth with silent exhales so you could keep yourself hidden in the darkness that now surrounded the area, the sun having set quite some time ago. The forest was seemingly empty as you circled the tree in its entirety, still stepping lightly as you began to leave the willow so you could circle back along the path you’d come from.

A firm set of hand suddenly gripped you firmly by your waist, much rougher than before, pulling you back suddenly and pressing you against the willow with enough force to cause a soft grunt to escape your lips. Halsin’s body was now pressed against yours, holding you securely to the tree. He quickly pressed his knee between your legs, rubbing against your inner thighs and effectively keeping you in place. You gasped lightly at the contact, the feeling of his body against yours after so many nights of teasing and yearning had set your limbs ablaze. And, given the feeling of something warm and quite firm pressing into your leg, you could only assume he felt the same. 

“You should change up your pattern next time, my friend,” he said softly, “it’s easy to learn.” His hand came to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb gently caressing the top of your collar bone as the rest of his fingers grazed the back of your neck.

“Clever bear.” You said with a slight chuckle, your voice tapering to just barely a whisper. Your own hands came to rest lightly against his biceps. 

When Halsin’s lips finally met yours, he let out a soft moan as his eyes closed, losing himself in your embrace. Your lips were soft against his, gentle and caring and everything he had dreamed about. Halsin had longed for your touch and ached to feel your lips against his, often thinking about their taste and feel while alone in his tent. He could feel a raging heat rise along his neck and into his face, even reaching to his ears after a moment. His hand left the softness of your neck, instead replacing it with the roughness of the bark behind you. His nails dug into the tree, trying to find something to distract him from the call of the beast that was beckoning him close to the edge of losing composure.

“You’ve been eating honey, haven’t you?” You asked between kisses, picking up on the faintest taste of honey as your tongue darted across his lips, “I can still taste it on your lips.” 

“I have, but I've made sure to save some for another night. I want to know what it tastes like on your tongue and on your skin.” Halsin rasped, “But tonight, I want to taste something sweeter.” You shuttered at his response, tightening your grip on his arms firmly as you felt his tongue swirl against yours, taking your breath from you with each passing second.

With his hands placed securely along your hips once more, the druid pulled you away from the tree he’d pressed you against, lips still heavy on yours as he led you to a pretty patch of grass by the waterside. You followed him blindly, trusting in him completely as your fingers began tugging at the ties on the front of his camp clothes. Halsin smiled against your lips, thoroughly pleased by your enthusiasm as he followed suit and slid his hands underneath your own shirt. His hands caressing and stroking your bare skin under your shirt caused you to shiver and a tingle to settle in your cheeks. Halsin’s touch was slow and gentle, allowing him to truly take the time to appreciate the feel of your supple skin against his hands.

Halsin pulled your tunic over your head, tossing it to the side before returning his hands to your body, focusing his attention on working pulling open the ties to your trousers. Despite the looming size of his hands, his fingers were fast and nimble as they loosened your laces just enough to allow your trousers to easily slide down your legs along with the remnants of your small clothes. Your boots were kicked off somewhere between Halsin pulling your trouser ties open and the same trousers colliding with the ground, although in the heat of the moment you couldn’t recall exactly when. 

You, however, were not as skilled in freeing the druid from the confines of his camp clothes, unsure of what tie opened which flap and just where the seam of his trousers started. Halsin chuckled softly, finding the confidence you had carried all evening quickly leaving as you struggled with his clothing. Being merciful, and a bit impatient, Halsin stripped himself of his garments, tossing them along with yours off to the side, his sandals having long been flung in different directions. 

Halsin took a step back from you, both hands still holding yours as he simply observed your naked form standing before him. You were breathtaking and beautiful, more than he could have possibly imagined in those long, lonely nights in his tent, and imagine he did. A warmth spread to you chest as he drank in your body, suddenly feeling shy by being bared in full to him. You took the time to observe him as well, more than impressed with the man that stood before you. Simply given the size of his arms, you knew he was muscular and well built, but it was different when actually seeing him in person.

With a gentle tug you were pulled towards him, your chest pressing against his as Halsin kissed you again. He groaned softly into your mouth, his eyes sliding closed as his hands roamed along your back and sides, lightly squeezing as he felt you beneath his fingertips. Your own hands traveled along his chest and arms, feeling the definition of muscles from years of fighting and roaming, but you could help but noticed just how warm his skin was. He always ran on the warmer side from what you could tell, but now he was almost hot to the touch.

He pushed away from you suddenly, arching forwards as an all too familiar heat rose in his chest. You took a step back, unsure of what was going through his mind as you watched Halsin grit his teeth, a light snarl and plea to Silvanus for guidance. It didn’t take long for you to figure out what was happening as you watched him fall to all fours, erupting in a familiar flash of golden light. The hulking frame of the elf was soon replaced with one of a cave bear, panting with heated breath and emitting rumbling growls. You knelt to the ground, knees touching the tender grass as your eyes remained fixed on the bear before you, your hand reaching out slowly to try to make contact. Your hand brushed against his wet nose, which was still blowing out warm breath with each pant. 

“It’s all right,” you said softly, “you’re all right.” Your hand slowly moved to the snout of the bear, your fingers running through the coarse fur in an attempt to calm him down. It took some time, but soon enough the frantic breathing of the cave bear finally calmed and settled into a steady rhythm. Before long, the bear erupted into another flash of light, leaving Halsin before you once again.

“I-I’m sorry,” Halsin stammered, “the beast is difficult to control at times, especially if blood runs hot. I lose myself and it takes over. Forgive me, please, the urges are just too strong at times” Halsin remained low to the ground, leaning on one knee with his back still hunched. His palms were facing you and his hands had the slightest of trembles. His mind raced as he knelt before you, emotions swirling and settling in his chest, cursing himself for allowing all control to be lost in such an important moment. 

“Halsin,” you said softly as you reached out again and placed a hand over his chest, “don’t ever apologize for that. It’s not a beast and neither are you.” His chest was unbelievably warm, but had cooled slightly, and his heart beat frantically against his chest. It was more than just arousal that caused the reaction in his body; it was fear. You glanced to his face and saw nothing but a mixture of panic and regret. Your heart ached at the sight, having never seen the strong man reduced to genuine fear in front of you.

“It’s in your nature. You of all people should know that.” You moved your hand from his chest and rested along his cheek, cupping it softly in your hand, “Don’t ever feel ashamed and don’t hold yourself back on my account.” His hands once again made purchase on your hips and pulled you closer to him, much lighter than before, as if he was afraid that touching you would change your mind.

“And, if I’m being honest,” you continued, “I quite like the bear.” You saw his eyebrows knit together slightly, head cocking to the side before he spoke again.

“The bear?” He said with a bit of hesitation, “You…like it?” You smiled with a slight chuckle. The back of your fingers softly caressed his cheek, feeling the roughness of his skin against yours as you tried to soothe any worry that lingered in his mind.

“I do,” you said softly, “but I’ll indulge the bear another night. Tonight, let me indulge in you.”

Halsin’s lips were on you before you could barely get your words out, hungry and firm against your own. His hands cupped your face, pulling you as close as possible to him as he took your breath away. With his lips to yours and your words still echoing in his ears, Halsin relaxed, feeling safe to be himself around you. You accepted him the way he was, even with a seeming lack of control at times, and it was almost euphoric. The weight of shame and guilt having been lifted with your words and soft touch. It wasn’t long before one of his hands cradled the back of your head and the accompanying arm ran down the length of you back. He used this position to gently lower you onto the grass below, quickly topping you with his own frame.

The grass was soft against your bare skin, the blades tickling your back as you felt Halsin settle above you. The druid’s hips settled between your parted legs as the length of his body rested just above your own, lightly grazing when either of you moved. Your hands ran along the expanse of his bare chest and shoulders as his lips met yours, his large arms resting by your head. You felt Halsin’s fingers weave their way through your hair, softly scratching at your scalp as he took his time exploring your lips. It wasn’t long before he deepened the kiss, moaning against your lips as his tongue asked for them to part. You happily obliged, letting his tongue easily slip into your mouth and explore to his hearts content. One of his hands left the tangle of your hair, settling along your cheek and jaw. Halsin’s thumb tugged at your lower lip, keeping your lips parted ever so slightly for better access. 

After some time, Halsin’s lips left your own and slowly moved towards your jaw, giving you the chance to catch your breath as he focused his tongue on other areas of your body. There was no rush or sense of urgency in his movements as Halsin kissed his way down the column of your throat, simply enjoying and relishing the moment he’d been waiting to share with you for so long now. Your skin was warm from the night air and the blush that had started to grace your skin, radiating against Halsin’s cheeks as he pressed soft kisses against you. He suckled gently against the tender skin of your pulse point, feeling the steady pounding of your heart beneath his lips until a light bruise had formed before moving to your collar bones.

You heard a gentle growl come from Halsin as he kissed your sternum and felt the soft placement of tongue tickling your skin before his lips followed suit. His movements were slow and gentle as he made his way lower, fully content with savoring every moment of you underneath him. He loved the subtle reactions your body gave when he kissed and licked a new spot, taking note of what you favored. The way your heartbeat quickened as his hands traveled lower along your body, how your fingernails would brush against his shoulders and lightly scratch as his own teeth would graze your skin, and the quiet sighs that would escape your parted lips when he found a particularly sensitive bit of skin; all of it a symphony to the druid that was slowly losing himself in you.  

A shaky moan broke the quiet serenity of the forest when you felt Halsin latch on to your nipple, taking the hardened bud between his teeth and giving the lightest of bites before soothing it with another kiss. Your back arched off the softened patch of grass and lightly into the air as your head rolled to the side, more gasps and sighs spilling from your lips the more Halsin serviced your nipple. You felt his hand slowly slide from your ribcage to the arch of your back, pressing you closer to his own frame all while caressing your sweat slicked skin. It wasn’t long before he switched sides, your body tingling at the ministrations of his teeth and tongue against your sensitive skin. Your eyes closed as your hands explored what you could reach of his upper body, eventually coming to rest along the top of his head.

Your fingers brushed along the tips of his ears as you explored his body, which earned you a sharp bite to your now swollen nipple and a tightening grip along your waist. Your eyes reopened and looked down the expanse of your body, admiring the glistening of kiss marks in the moonlight against your skin. Halsin’s eyes were focused on your features, meeting your eyes with a lustfully clouded gaze. You bit your lip with a devious smile, realizing just how much the faintest touch against his ears had excited him. With a slightly firmer touch, you ran your fingers along his ears once again, letting your nails graze ever so slightly. Halsin responded to the touch with a low moan and giving an involuntary thrust against the ground.

The druid continued his descent downwards at a slightly faster pace, having been spurred on by the teasing to the tips of his ears. He continued to hold your gaze as he kissed down your body, feeling the rise and fall of your stomach as you inhaled deeply and released with each shaky breath. His hands grasped your hips, softly squeezing and caressing the soft flesh there as his mouth finally reached that lovely spot that rested at the apex of your thighs. Halsin planted gentle, loving kisses to the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance, teasing you ever so slightly as he took his time in exploring your most secret of places. 

Your thighs instinctively wanted to close and press themselves against Halsin’s head as he teased and tasted you, wanting to keep him there as long as possible. Your hips rolled under his touch and your back arched further, desperate for his contact on your most sensitive spot. You felt him chuckle against your skin, causing a deliciously sensational warmth to begin to pool in your lower abdomen. His hands traveled from your hips to your outer thighs, caressing and grazing with his fingertips as his lips found the velvety soft skin of your inner thighs. After a few more kisses and even a light bite to the soft skin, Halsin’s hands gently pried your lightly trembling thighs from the sides of his skull, pulling them wide until they were kissed by the grass beneath your body. He kept them open by resting his heavy arms on your thighs, giving his hands the opportunity to focus on more important matters. Halsin teased your entrance with a finger and tongue, lingering for just a moment before finally granting you the satisfaction of slipping inside.

“Halsin…” His name slipped from your lips as nothing more than a whisper as you felt him taste you, the bulk of your breath having been taken away when he first teased your entrance. Your hands desperately searched for any part of your lover to cling to, but given just how high the arch had gotten in your back, you were struggling to make purchase. You settled for winding your fingers in the grass beside you, pulling and tugging at the tender blades until they ripped and you needed to find more. 

Halsin glanced up to you, his mouth and tongue still working their magic on your body as he added a second finger, curling at just the right spot to make your body quiver in bliss. He smiled as best he could at your expression, considering that his lips were occupied. Although pride was not something the druid typically felt, it coursed through him as he watched your mouth open and close with soft gasps and the way your eyes knitted together tightly in time with each exhale. Watching you, the normally well put together leader of the group of misfits he’d so eagerly joined, melt into a puddle of whimpers and moans by his touch was enough to make his already painfully hardened cock throb and weep at your image.

Your back rose and fell with each roll of your hips against his teasing, surging with pleasure with each swipe of his tongue as you flitted closer and closer to the blissful edge of release. You felt teeth, tongue, lips, and fingers; anything and everything Halsin could use at his disposal to bring you to your first release of the evening. He held his hand along your abdomen, slowly sliding up towards your chest so he could feel as much you beneath him as possible. Halsin wanted to feel you writhe and squirm under his touch and wanted nothing more than to feel the shakes and convulsions your body would offer when you finally reached your orgasm. You quickly released your grip on the grass you’d ripped out by the root, replacing the handful of foliage with Halsin’s own hand. Fingers were soon intertwined and you held to him tightly, your knuckles turning white as the contact grounded you and allowed you to focus on the tightening coil deep in your belly. Each exhale turned into a breathy moan that only increased in volume as Halsin intensified his efforts, determined to swiftly bring you the release you desperately wanted with a flick of his tongue. 

Your legs began to tremble under Halsin’s arms as he brought you closer to the edge, heat surging in your abdomen as your muscles along your thighs began to tighten. A sudden rush of warmth and indescribable satisfaction washed over your quaking body, jolts of pleasure fired through your muscles as you finally broke the barrier. The sensation made your mind cloud as you rode our your orgasm, still feeling Halsin’s tongue and lips tending to your sex. Your eyes closed as the final waves washed over your body, your breath coming in deep inhales as the feeling subsided much too quickly for your liking. The feeling was euphoric, but you wanted more.

Halsin kissed up along your body quickly, leaving your tingling lower half to bring his face to meet yours once again. Your mind still reeled from your orgasm as you felt his lips against your heaving body. Halsin kissed you gently on your cheek, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as you continued to come down from your peak. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you as you tried to regulate your breathing once again. His skin was warm under your touch, the lightest layer of sweat forming along his back from the heat of the night air. Halsin kissed along your jaw until he pressed his lips against yours once again, tender and soft when compared to frantic movements just moments ago. 

“More?” He asked after breaking from your lips, taking the time to wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as your eyes finally opened for him.

“More.” You said with a nod between pants, your body still trying to regain some sense of composure from the feeling you just experienced. Halsin’s mouth returned to your skin at your words, licking and sucking along your neck as he waited for you to settle once more. Your skin was pleasantly warm, a combination of the heat of the night and your exertion having caused the change in your body temperature. He adored the blush that had settled on the apples of your cheeks and poured onto your neck and along your chest, the sense of pride returning to him as he admired the state of your body all due to his touch. Halsin could still taste you on his lips as it mingled with the sweat from your neck, finding the taste to be almost intoxicating.

Halsin was still lazily planting wet kisses along your body, tasting as much of you as he could as he moved to your chest. When you felt strong enough to move again, your hands and fingers ran along his neck and shoulders, feeling the definition of the muscles that lay just beneath your fingers. Years of roaming nature had toughened his skin thanks to the touch of the sun, but in your exploration you had found a few spots still supple. You traced behind his ears and along the back of his neck, feeling his skin prickle and twitch under your touch and you found yourself wanting to feel more. Given that he was distracted, you took the opportunity to have the upper hand. You playfully shoved Halsin’s shoulder from you until you had the druid pressed onto his back in the grass with a surprised grunt, throwing your leg over his hips until you had him straddled. 

“I believe you’re stronger than you let on, my friend.” Halsin said with a sly grin, impressed at the swiftness of your movements given your previous orgasm.

“I am when I need to be.” You said softly, adjusting your position in his lap as Halsin sat up just slightly, leaning back to place his weight along his forearms. He simply enjoyed watching you above him, seated ever so nicely in his lap as you took your time exploring with your fingers. Your chest was still heaving slightly from your orgasm just moments prior and the druid had his eyes glued to your form, drinking you in and memorizing every dip, curve, and blemish that adorned your body. With the soft light of the moon behind you, illuminating you in a glowing halo, he watched as a bead of sweat rolled from the side of your neck, lazily rolling over your collar ones and onto your chest before getting lost somewhere in the skin above your navel.

“The Oak Father truly broke the mold with you,” Halsin said softly as his eyes continued to wander across your naked body, “I’ve yet to see anything in nature that compares to your beauty.” If you weren’t already blushing, you were now. You leaned forward, kissing his lips as an appreciation for the compliment. 

“Don’t sell yourself short.” You murmured against his lips, taking the time to kiss them once more before moving your way down his neck. Both of your hands rested on his shoulders, beginning to move along his chest as you kissed and nipped lightly down his throat, searching for more tender expanses of skin. You felt him shudder with each light graze of your teeth against his neck, a satisfied hum coming from you with each nibble. With a light touch, you ran your fingertips across the expanse of his chest, feeling every bit that you could reach while still slightly leaned over his frame.

You returned to your previous position, pressing yourself up from his chest while allowing yourself to marvel at the hulking elf beneath you as your fingers continued to roam, feeling and caressing with a gentle touch. You traced along the thick veins in his arms, feeling the firmness of the surrounding muscles of the biceps that could easily have their way with you. His heart beat steadily in his chest when your fingers grazed over his pectorals, enjoying the feeling of the thick hair that coated his chest. While your fingers enjoyed their exploration of his chest, making sure to graze over and toy with his hardened nipples as your eyes traveled further down his body. He hissed at the contact, but loved every moment of your teasing fingertips along his skin.

Your gaze followed the line of coarse hair that trailed between the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen and came to an end at the base of his cock, which was seated nicely between your thighs. You smiled to yourself as you watched his member twitch and bob under your touch when you ran over a particularly sensitive spot, resisting the urge to tickle those areas when you came across them. Your forefinger ran along a nonsensical path around his abs, simply keeping the hand occupied as the opposite finally reached his throbbing cock, which was steadily dripping his arousal in a long stream along his stomach. With a quick flick of your gaze to Halsin, you dipped the tip of your forefinger in the pool of his spend, rubbing small circles to coat the digit before you finally brought your coated appendage to your lips.

“Something sweeter, you said?” You asked with a feigned innocence as you held his gaze, finding the anticipation in his face quite amusing. You could feel his muscles tighten beneath you as he anticipated your next move, his eyes flicking between your half lidded eyes and your coated finger hovering mere centimeters from your lips.

You ran your tongue along your coated finger, engulfing the entire digit in your mouth once you had reached the tip and the first taste of Halsin’s arousal had touched your tongue. You took your finger to the knuckle, cleaning the appendage quickly. Halsin’s hips bucked upwards as he watched your finger slowly slip from your mouth, thrusting you forwards until your hand collided with his chest to keep you from falling flat against him. 

Halsin’s shifted his weight to rest on one of his forearms, using his now free hand to grasp your jaw, pulling you into a heated kiss with a quiet growl. His tongue was in your mouth in an instant, tangling with yours in an attempt to feel as much of the mouth that had teased him all day. With your tongues dancing with one another, you slid your hand down his chest and stomach before ghosting your fingertips over the weeping head of his cock. Halsin released his mouth from yours to as his breath caught in his throat, his grip leaving your jaw as he fell back onto both arms.

You returned your lips to his body, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses along his chest, steadily working your way lower as you followed the trail your fingers had previously taken. You could taste the sweat that had formed on his body as your lips traveled lower before you finally pulled away, admiring the trails you’d left along his skin. Your fingers had gone from simply teasing the sensitive head to stroking along the length of his cock in long, fluid movements. He pulsed in your grasp as you continued your stroking, squeezing in varying strength along his cock, stopping occasionally to rub small circles along his oversensitive cock head. 

“That touch of yours will be the end of me one day.” Halsin whispered as his head tilted back against his shoulders, his eyes closing slowly as he allowed himself to enjoy your movements. You watched as his chest heaved with each stroke of your hand, his breath coming in and out through his nose as he tried to keep himself collected and under control. Halsin felt his muscles tense and his heart pound under your touch, his body finally indulging in your long sought after touch, and he wanted the feeling to last as long as possible.

“Is that a promise of more nights like this, then?” You asked with a curious look, wiggling your way off his hips, choosing to settle between Halsin’s thighs to give yourself a better position for what was to come.

“Many more, if that is what you wish as well.” Halsin managed to choke out between sighs and soft groans as you stroked your hand along the length of his throbbing cock at a steady pace. Each flick of your wrist became easier over time, the slick that had fallen from the weeping tip giving you plenty of lubrication to work with. With lust filled eyes you looked up towards the druid as you began to lower your head to meet your hand.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin’s low voice wavered as he spoke, a shudder wracking his body as the flat of your tongue ran along the underside of his cock. His eyes reopened and he lifted his head long enough to watch as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip. Halsin finally dropped to his back, his arms giving way underneath him as your tongue swirled the cock throbbing in your mouth. Like you had done with his finger earlier in the day, you pressed the tip to the roof of your mouth, creating a firm pressure to the overly sensitive head. 

Your tongue was softer than velvet against Halsin’s cock, swirling and suckling around the tip with enough pressure to make him squirm in pleasure. He moaned softly with each swipe of your tongue, his hips thrusting upwards ever so slightly to create more friction against your warm, wet mouth. With his tip still securely pressed to the top of your mouth, your tongue worked wonders on the underside of his member, focusing on the sensitive space on the underside of the tip. You suckled away on his cock while your hand continued to stroke lazily along his base. As he did with you, you took your time in exploring his cock with your mouth, listening to the delightful moans and sighs that came from above you.

Halsin let out an exasperated sigh when you finally released the suction from his cock, which allowed you to begin your teasingly slow descent. Your lips were pressed tightly around his cock, still creating a light suction as you worked your way down, although your pace wasn’t entirely due to just wanting to tease the man writhing at your touch. Given just how large of a man that Halsin was, you were under no illusions that his member would be anything less than large, but you truly weren’t prepared for just how impressive his size actually was. You took your time in an attempt to service his length in a way that was pleasurable to both you and Halsin. 

You took him further into your mouth, his tip beginning to slip into the tightness of your throat as you focused on not choking along his length all while keeping a steady breath. Halsin’s fingers found their way into your hair, settling on the crown of your head as he felt you lower yourself to your limit, a light gag coming from your throat before you pulled back up. His simply rested his hand along your head as you began to bob along his cock, gradually picking up speed as you became more comfortable with your limits. He didn’t pressure you further than you wanted or tried to change your pacing, but simply needed something to grasp onto as he worked his way through waves of pleasure. He wanted you to enjoy yourself as much as he was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make you feel pressured to go beyond your limits. For this, you were thankful.

You soon found yourself in a rhythm, guiding your head up and down along the length of his hardened cock with ease, occasionally ending with an audible gag if you pushed yourself too far. For now, he was too large for you to comfortably handle, so you made use of your still slicked hand to stroke and toy with the portion of his shaft not covered by your mouth. From time to time you’d pull away, allowing yourself a few sucking breaths of air before your lips returned to him in some way either through licking any neglected areas or sliding it back into the heat of your mouth. His spend was salty against your tongue, yet something you swallowed eagerly. 

Halsin’s breath hitched and the urge to buck wildly into your warm mouth was becoming too much to handle as he felt a tingling warmth begin to settle in his groin. His fingers grasped at your hair lightly, desperate to anchor to something more substantial as he fought the urge to spill into his own orgasm. However, he resisted, wanting to save that wonderful wave of pleasure for something more intimate than your teasing mouth. Your eyes met Halsin’s once again as you continued your ministrations to his weeping cock, your gaze tender yet blissfully hazy.

You felt his fingers untangle themselves from your hair, dragging along your cheek with a loving touch. You nuzzled your cheek into his palm as best you could, your mouth still fully occupied with pleasuring the cock that was dangerously close to spilling over. Halsin gripped your chin gently, pulling you up and off his pulsing member with a shaky breath. His eyes were drawn to the line of spittle that still connected your reddened lips to the tip of his length, gently wiping your lip with his thumb as your breath came out in pants. You struggled to catch your breath as he held you in his grasp.

“If you keep going like that,” Halsin said after he’d regained some of his composure, “this night will be over much sooner than either of us would wish.”

“We have all night, do we not?” You asked as your tongue flicked across your lips, collecting any remaining spittle that lingered.

“We do, but let us hope that the sun is slow to rise.” Halsin murmured quietly before closing the gap between your bodies. He took your lips with his once more, tender and sweet as he came forward, urging you onto your back for the second time before parting from you. Your body settled into a fresh patch of grass that was slick with the beginning touches of dew forming on the blades. You sighed happily into the night air, your body succumbing to the gentle touches of the druid. Halsin’s hands softly grabbed the underside of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze as he parted your legs for him. 

Your heart fluttered as he crawled up the expanse of your body, his arms and hands surrounding you as he knees knocked your legs open a bit further. His kisses and touches had become light and feather soft, caressing your lips and body with a touch so gentle you almost couldn’t feel it. He was holding back as if touching you any more firmly would thoroughly break you. You had to admit that you understood his concern, given that the bulk of his frame was currently looming over you and he was a bit larger than you had anticipated.

“You don’t have to restrain yourself with me,” you said between kisses, “I’m sturdier than I look.” You brushed stray hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear and out of the way. You knew Halsin wanted something a bit more rugged. He was more than content with slow, languid kisses and soft touches, but you also knew that he had been pent up for quite some time between suppressing his own emotions for years and your own teasings as of late. You wanted him to enjoy himself just as much as you were. 

Holding back his feelings was something Halsin wasn’t accustomed to doing on a day-to-day basis; he wore his heart on his sleeve and made his emotions clear. You, however, were the one exception. He had been attracted to you for quite some time before either of you had made it to your current situation, yet he was hesitant to come forward with those feelings. Decades of denying himself something more meaningful and vulnerable simply couldn’t take a priority over his duties, so now that he was presented with the opportunity, Halsin had hesitated. But now, you both were here in each others arms, fully exposed and having tasted the other in some fashion; now was not the time to restrain feelings.

“I have no doubt about that, believe me, but either way I promise to be gentle.” Halsin said with a slight chuckle, “At least for now.” Halsin wanted nothing more than to hold you down and have his way with you until you were a puddled mess, but he also knew when the time was right. Although you were more than ready to try and take him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in his overeagerness. Instead, he opted to take things the more gentle route until he was sure you were up for something more vigorous. 

He pressed his lips to yours once again in a lingering kiss, moaning softly against your mouth as he lined the tip of his cock up with your well slicked entrance. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his warm, throbbing tip pressing against your eagerly awaiting entrance, the feeling of him being so close made your muscles melt beneath him. As slowly and carefully as possible, Halsin eased his way into you, earning a sudden gasp from your kiss swollen lips. He moved his own lips to your ear, cradling the opposite side of your face as he guided himself deeper into you.

His lips were soft and tender on your temple, kissing lightly when you hissed or made a gasp that sounded more uncomfortable than pleasurable. Halsin took his time, guiding his movements in accordance to your body’s reactions than his own lusts. From time to time you’d press your palm against his hip or stomach, quietly asking him to wait until you could adjust. When you did so, Halsin listened, waiting until you were ready to continue as he peppered your cheek with more kisses and whispered praise or encouragement in your ear. You moved your hand from his hip when you were ready to continue, whimpering softly as he continued the slow movement into your heat.

When Halsin had fully seated himself inside you, he released groan from deep within his chest, savoring the feeling of you around his hardened cock. You were warm and tight, which was everything he had expected from you, but the actual feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. With everything you had done for him so far, you had once again exceeded his expectations. With this, he wanted to begin moving against you and feel you expand and contract around him, but he paused. Halsin remained still inside you, waiting for your approval before continuing. He knew you needed time to adjust and he would allow you to take as much time as you needed. In the meantime, he simply enjoyed the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

Your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply, adjusting to the size of the length buried inside you. He was large, but not uncomfortable. Halsin was exceedingly gentle with you, not wanting to hurt you with his size, but you were ready for more. You met his haze once more before giving a gentle nod, urging him to continue.

“You have been more than worth the wait.” Halsin murmured in your ear as his hips began to move against you, taking your lips once more with his before you could respond. Your moaned against him, the feeling of his cock slowly slipping out of you before nuzzling back in made a light warmth settle on your cheeks and made your heart flutter with anticipation. You stayed like this for some time, your arms wrapped around each other while connected by your lower halves, taking everything slow and steady until your body had grown accustomed to the size of the cock nestled deep inside you.

However, it wasn’t long before you felt comfortable with his size. Your hips rolled against his, asking him to begin picking up the pace as any discomfort quickly subsided and was replaced with pleasure and ecstasy. Halsin eagerly complied, pulling his arms from you slightly so he could rest along his palms, his hips rolling against yours as he kept his thrusts light, but just slightly faster. Your hands ran down his chest like they had done earlier, feeling his muscles flex under your fingertips with his movements. Halsin was correct, he and this moment were more than worth every moment of teasing and waiting that you’d experienced. He was worth it.

Halsin sat back, resting his weight on splayed knees so he could watch you from above. His hands explored and grasped at the expanse of your thighs as he watched your body writhe and roll under his touch, desperate to meet his cock with a roll each time he sheathed himself fully into you. His eyes searched your body, unsure of which part of you to settle on for more than a few seconds. He wanted to take in every bit of you as he thrust his hips into your warmth. Your face and chest were covered in a deep blush and glistened with sweat against the glow of the moonlight, parts of you bounced each time his hips snapped to yours and became almost hypnotic if he started too long, but in the end he decided that the most delicious part of you to watch was simply just how well you took his throbbing cock. His eyes traveled to where you both were joined, mesmerized by how your entranced stretched with each thrust to accommodate his size, but so early accepted him back in each time he fully entered you. The view combined with the feeling of your heat squeezing around him was almost enough to send him into a frenzy.

Halsin gripped the underside of one of your thighs, lifting it from the ground until the back of your leg rested against his broad chest, opening you up more for him, but also allowing him a better view of his cock disappearing into your heat. His lips and tongue found the skin of your leg and left sloppy, wet kisses along the sweat soaked skin as his fingers pressed firmly into the soft flesh of your thigh. His other hand traveled to your lower half, feeling your muscles tighten in your abdomen as your released neared. He used his fingers to brush across your most sensitive spots, a playful smile gracing his lips as you responded deliciously to his touch.

Your body was on fire, aching and throbbing with heat as Halsin snapped his hips to yours with each thrust. The sound of wet skin smacking against skin and mingled with grunts and moans filled the quiet evening air, making any animal in the area scamper off quickly at the noise. Your cheeks burned with exertion and desire, a feeling that was equally matched in the fire that was ignited in your lower belly. You could feel the string of pleasure begin to coil, knowing it wouldn’t be long before it snapped once more. Your hands grasped and squeezed at your chest, fingers flicking across and occasionally pinching your hard and sensitive nipples, eliciting sharp moans into the air that sent shivers down the back of the druid.

“More,” you gasped out as you felt the coil deepen, “please.” Your voice was almost a whine, needy with desire and lust as Halsin continued his movements.

Halsin moved instantly at your words, pressing forward until his chest met yours, your leg still pressed against his chest as your knee now rested close to your face. He moved your other leg to rest on his other shoulder, his hands shaking at the feeling of you practically halved beneath him. His arms kept your legs from slipping off his sweaty shoulders as his hands came to rest by your head, one of them tangling in your hair with a firm grasp. His lips found your neck and offered a light bite to the soft flesh, making your mouth fall open at the contact. Halsin thrust into you more firmly, knees and toes digging into the grass beneath him as his pace increased. 

Your own hands found purchase on his body, one resting on the side of his warmed cheek and the other tangling with the knot he kept tied at the back of his head. Your body trembled beneath his as your second orgasm starting coming to a peak, knowing it wouldn’t be long until it crashed over your body. Halsin’s eyes remained locked to yours, entranced by the look of pleasure that covered your lovely face. You panted against each other, breath mixing together and only adding to the heat of the moment.

“You’re almost there, my heart.” Halsin panted against you as his forehead rested along yours, “Let go. Let me feel you.” The new use of a pet name and his coaxing send sparks flying through your body, awakening some sort of arousal you’d have to explore more at a later time. For now, however, his words and movements were enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking with a delicious heat and pleasure as your legs trembled against his shoulders. Your orgasm rushed through your body, sending bolts of electricity along your spine as you rode it out. You tightened your hold against Halsin’s cock, which was still thrusting into your sensitive entrance. The sudden grip on him almost caused his to experience his own release, but the druid held firm and made the feeling subside. As much as he wanted to feel his own pleasure course through him, he wanted to take you one final time before indulging in his own pleasure. You moaned and whined, your body twitched and shook under the last remaining licks of your orgasm, your mind hazed with pleasure and exhaustion.

With a swift movement, Halsin removed your trembling legs from his shoulders, pulling them to the side as he flipped you to your stomach. While still in your daze, you felt his hands press against your chest and around one of your legs, easily lifting your still trembling body from the ground and a better position so you could lay comfortably on the ground before pressing you firmly into the grass beneath you. You were taken by surprise, your mind swimming with enough pleasure and haze that you hadn’t fully processed his movements until your cheek was met with a patch of grass, leaving your arms pinned between your own chest and the ground. Halsin’s hands gripped at your hips, swiftly tugging them upwards and towards him with an almost desperate pace. 

You let out a moan at the sudden change of position, letting Halsin rearrange your limbs with ease as you still were reeling from your orgasm. Halsin parted your legs once again, settling nicely between them as he realigned himself with your still trembling entrance. He entered you more quickly than before, still taking note of not being too rough with you, making sure you were comfortable with how he was seated within you before he began his thrusting once again. You whimpered as he picked up the pace, your swollen sex still sensitive from your climax as it tingled and clenched around the druid’s impressive length.

Halsin's hand traveled the length of your back as he steadily and firmly snapped his hips to yours, knocking you forward just slightly with each thrust. Halsin admired the beauty of your body, even from a less than flattering angle. The way your hips curved into your waist, the small dips in your lower back that lead to a steep curve in your spine caused by his movements, and the taught muscles in your shoulders that were defined from battle all enticed him even more. Halsin had admittedly fallen for you based off your merit and kindness, but he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful inside and out, especially when splayed out underneath him.

Your skin was hot beneath his touch, both from exertion and the heat of the night, and your body glistened under the moonlight. He had longed to feel your skin in his grasp for some time now, the thought alone keeping him up many nights as he struggled to subdue his own feelings for the sake of duty. The thoughts that would plague his mind of the caress of your hands had only intensified with your recent teasings, making the feel of your skin slapping against his all the more pleasurable. As his hand caressed the skin of your hips and back, Halsin had enough sense to flick the pieces of grass and dirt that had stuck to your skin from your previous position, lovingly brushing you clean as his hips were mercilessly slamming into yours. You felt his hand grip your shoulder, desperate to hold you in place as he chased his release. 

Your breath hitched as you felt Halsin’s hand firmly grab your shoulder, giving him better leverage to thrust into you from behind. The sudden change of pace from soft and loving to frantic and rough wasn’t quite what you were expecting over the course of the night, but it was a most welcome change. Up until now, Halsin was focused on your pleasure and release over his. He was attentive and loving, making sure your had expended yourself to your limits, even denying his own release when he felt the luscious feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

But this was different. It was still caring, given that Halsin wasn’t ramming into you with his full strength, but this was for him. He was finally allowing himself to indulge in the pleasures of the flesh that he had denied himself for so long. He was desperate to make it last, to have this night make up for years of denial and longing, but you could tell he was nearing his end. Your ears were greeted with a symphony of grunts and growls rumbling deep in his chest the harder he slammed into you. Although you were met with no discomfort, just a delicious feeling of being pressed into the ground by your lover.

Halsin’s grip on your shoulder was strong, simply given the size of the druid, but not quite enough to keep you from shifting underneath him. He released your shoulder, which was now slightly red from his hold, and slid his hand to your back once again, resting between your shoulder blades with his fingers splayed wide against your dampened skin. You let out a moan and a wheeze as you felt the air leave your lungs, leaving you with a deliciously pleasant sting as Halsin pressed into your back firmly, lifting himself slightly to apply as much pressure as he could without causing you harm. You were now securely pinned to the ground, allowing the druid to slam into you without the inconvenience of you slipping out beneath him.

You both let out a pleasurable moan at the new position, the angle allowing Halsin to slip fully into you and pound away at the wonderfully sensitive spot deep inside you that made your vision blur each time he made contact with the tip of his cock. Halsin was practically hovering over you, taking in every bit of your body as he barreled towards his own release. He watched the way his cock slipped in and out of you effortlessly, given his size, and the way your body graciously accepted him. Halsin could feel his legs begin to shake and the pacing of his hips begin to falter, stuttering every few thrusts as he came closer to his orgasm.

“Look at me, my heart.” His voice was gruff and shaky, but it was more of a plea than a command, one you happily complied with. Your haze was a bit foggy, but you looked over you shoulder as you remained pinned to the ground, your mouth hanging open in an attempt to breath as best you could with the pressure on your back. Your lips tugged into a slight smile as you peered up at the druid, the sight of him coming undone because of you brought you more joy than you could have previously thought. You met his gaze with half-lidded eyes, but there was more than just lust behind them and Halsin could see this as well. There was no doubt that your pupils were dilated with lust and pleasure from both your orgasms, but there was something more meaningful. There was trust, admiration, acceptance, and if Halsin’s own lust fogged mind could be trusted, perhaps even the faintest hint of love behind the beautifully bright eyes staring back at him.

Your gaze and the feeling of your warmth clenching around his cock was the final act that sent Halsin over the edge. An uncharacteristically loud curse left his lips as he hunched forward, digging his heels into the dirt as he thrust into you a final time. His hand lifted from your back and collided with the ground beside your head to keep from crushing you beneath his weight and it allowed you a sucking breath as Halsin spilled himself deep inside you. His opposing hand was still firmly gripped to your hips, holding them in place as his body shuddered with each contraction of his muscles. Each warm rope that spilled from his cock sent waves of pleasure down Halsin’s back, making his muscles twitch and tense with each burst. He released a low grunt every time he spilled, each one landing deep inside you, filling you with a gentle warmth.

Halsin fell to his forearms as he slowly fell from his peak, his head coming to rest softly against your shoulder as he panted against your skin. The druid finally released your hip from his grasp, the desperation and intensity behind his grip had finally softened as his body began to relax against yours, softly rubbing your sweat soaked skin to soothe the marks he’d left on your posterior. He littered your shoulder blades with a string of slow, loving kisses, placing a few to the back of your neck. You both lay there for a few precious moments, simply enjoying the feeling of being so close to the other while still connected, your minds slowly falling down from the blissful peaks you had climbed towards.

After giving a final kiss to the area between your shoulders, Halsin pulled himself from you gently, knowing you both were now a bit sore and rather sensitive. You whimpered softly as you felt him slip out of you, already missing the fullness he offered. With the bulk of his weight now off your frame, you finally managed to pull one of your arms out from underneath you, bracing it on the ground before hoisting yourself onto your hands and knees. Halsin went down to his side, pulling you with him with a quick roll as he settled for the evening. Your head rested along the expanse of his bicep, rolling to rest your cheek to his skin as you lay along your back, one knee coming up to bend and help you adjust. 

“Are you all right?” Halsin asked as he brushed more bits of grass from your cheek with his free hand, plucking blades from your temples and your hairline.

“Very much so.” You hummed softly, your eyes becoming heavy as you melted against his touch.

Your skin had finally cooled after the activity from the night, leaving you with tacky skin, but free from beads of sweat. Despite the heat coming from Halsin’s body, you were pleasantly warm and thoroughly satisfied for the evening. You lay together, wrapped in each others embrace on the forest floor, listening to the lulling sounds of the night as you simply enjoyed the silence. Halsin’s free hand traveled along your body, gently caressing and mending any wounds that may have appeared during your rougher moments. 

“Can I offer you a wash?” He asked after a moment, having run along your body several times. You looked to him, offering a gentle smile with tired eyes. 

“That sounds lovely,” you murmured, leaning up to leave a slow kiss to his lips, “but let’s stay here for a spell. I’m not quite ready to return to camp just yet.”

Halsin tugged you closer to him, your bodies fully pressed to the other as the arm you were resting on had wrapped around your shoulders. You tossed your leg over his, tangling your legs together as one of your arms wrapped around his midsection. With the sun still below the horizon, you had a few hours of darkness left before returning to camp was a necessity, giving you a few precious moments together to simply be. You and Halsin spoke softly, whispering sweet words and blush worthy compliments to each other, caressing and touching and learning the details of the other. Eventually, the low rumbles of Halsin’s voice filled you with a sense of peace, causing your eye lids to droop and fall heavy. You fought the feeling, simply wanting to stay awake to enjoy the moment.

“Rest, my heart,” he whispered against your hair, “we’ll find more moments for each other.” He placed a single, gentle kiss to your forehead, pulling away when your eyelids finally closed for the evening and your mind began drifting off to a moment of restful sleep.

Tag List: @thoughts-of-bear ,@beardedladyqueen, @pixie-in-a-moonlantern, @ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian, @ouranyaoi @galeofyourwaterdeep @mskinkyafro @jenn-majima @blobs-away @halsinsnaturepocket

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

a little self-indulgent, but may I request Full headcanons of M6 reacting (and accommodating?) to MC who's easily jealous and possessive due to their trauma? (for example, MC got cheated on before and now they can't bear the thought of M6 doing the same to them, if it makes sense.)

thanks!

The Arcana HCs: When MC struggles with jealousy

Julian

Cheating simply Does Not Occur to him. It doesn't enter his mind

Seriously. He doesn't doubt his capacity to be attractive, but for such a complicated person, experiencing love is a straightforward matter for him. He loves you. Why bother with anything else?

Of course, if it's a source of pain for you, then it's a concern for him too. He's had his fair share of unhealthy relationships and isn't in the dark about just how badly cheating will mess someone up

He's also the type to overthink things, so once you bring it up as your own issue, he's naturally taking it on as his issue too

He wouldn't! ... but now he's going to go out of his way to prove to himself that he's not the kind of person who would

It also drives the point home to him just how precious it is to have your trust (and why he really should have never tried to briefly dump you on the docks). That did need some discussing

In general, he's so transparent and talkative with you that there's nobody in his life you don't know about. If he has a high opinion of them, he's already trying to get you two to be friends as well

And if you ever worry that someone else is better for him, he will take that as a challenge to outdo your sense of unworthiness /j

Asra

They would never. You know this. They know this. Every citizen in Vesuvia knows this. The major Arcana know this

But the horrible thing about traumas and fears is that they don't have to be rational to hurt you, and Asra knows that too

Your relationship actually went through quite the rough patch with this at first. Asra's plenty familiar with heartbreak, but he doesn't have a jealous bone in his body and struggles to understand it

What's more, their own traumas make them practically allergic to feeling controlled or trapped in any way, which doesn't help their love of being mysterious and unpredictable

Which, of course, only fed your anxieties, and in turn left him easily triggered if you tried to get a solid answer out of him about what he'd been up to all day on his spontaneous solo side quests

What's most important, though, is that they love you with everything they are, and they're dedicated to helping you heal and being the best partner they can as they build a happy life with you

It's a catalyst for both of you to confront and work through your traumas together - your jealousy, and his fear of constancy

They do find telling you all about their day is actually lots of fun

Nadia

She is so glad you're bringing this up

Would she ever cheat? Absolutely not. She takes relational boundaries very seriously and what she has with you is a kind of love and safety and closeness she's waited for her whole life

However, while she and Lucio never cheated on each other, they did have an open marriage which meant other lovers were in the picture, and knowing you're not comfortable with that is important

She will happily get into the nitty gritty of past grievances and unsatisfying relationships and the details of every boundary

She also strongly values your sense of safety and security with her, and if there's any little things she can do to equip you to battle your demons, she will happily do them. Just tell her what helps

However, it is also very important to her to clarify that your jealousy is your situation talking and not a slight on her character

Because if it helps you heal to see her be transparent with you, she'll practically become glass, but if you start questioning her own intentions and moral code, you're not giving her space to do right

Can and will set things up so you can watch her beat down anybody flirting with her in real time (and kiss you afterwards)

Muriel

Cheating is an entirely foreign concept to him and the fact that someone would actually do that is completely horrifying to him

He is so, so sorry you had to find out what that was like

He's also baffled about how that could even happen. In his case, you're the first person he's even considered having a relationship like this with. Who else would he even want to be with?

The first time you express any insecurity or jealousy about him specifically, he's a little thrown. Just the thought of betraying you like that disgusts him, do you really distrust him that much?

Of course, that's his own traumas and insecurities affecting him, and he knows better than anyone how poor past experiences make him fear hurt from his loved ones which he knows they'd never do

If you have the patience to soothe him when he flinches from your sudden movements or unexpected happy shouts, he easily has the patience to reassure you of your importance and safety with him

He'll also hold a grudge even bigger than yours against whoever gave you that relational trauma. In his mind, they have a reserved spot right next to Lucio in the not-fun part of the afterlife

Still doesn't know who else would find him desirable anyways

Portia

Oh, she gets it. She doesn't necessarily experience this to the level that you do, but she certainly relates on multiple counts

Feeling left behind by a loved one and struggling not to be insecure about it? Check. It's why she's so free to steal Julian's kneecaps

Feeling like she's just the good option people pick until they find their ideal option? Feeling like it's just a matter of time until she gets dropped again, no matter how well-meaning that person is?

Yeah, she gets you. Not to mention that it's a little hard not to compare herself to the incredible people you're friends with who would all clearly love to be the focus of your affections

The fact that you feel this too is such a relief. You two are about to spend so many hours on her couch with tea and baked treats while you talk about your similar experiences and unpack those feelings

And honestly, hearing you voice your doubts gives her space to voice hers. You can be open about how she's clearly the Countess's favorite and she can be open about your past roommate setup

If either of you finds it just a little bit attractive when you get to flaunt your relationship at ambassador events when another partygoer gets a bit too friendly - well - it's a guilty pleasure

Lucio

Look, he knows he's not a shining example of a model citizen, but he wouldn't disrespect the boundaries of someone he loves

At the same time, his assumptions about what those boundaries are aren't exactly monogamous. Will he be in a closed, exclusive relationship with you if those are your boundaries? Absolutely!

Will he need you to explicitly tell him that those are your boundaries? Also yes. Otherwise he might randomly ask how you feel about inviting a new friend to go on a date with you two

He's still working on his emotional intelligence, too, so the chances of him understanding the relational trauma aspect of that are slim

However, he understands the insecurity. You could leave him tomorrow and as heartbroken and betrayed as he'd feel, deep down he wouldn't be able to find it in himself to blame you

The last thing he wants to make you feel is less than or unworthy. You are worth so, so very much and you deserve only the best

Because he's still learning new habits, accountability is something he finds as uncomfortable as he does necessary and while he doesn't need it in this area, he still values it

Still needs reassurances that you don't think he'd actually do that

[wishmemel]

so high school, ft. fushiguro megumi

synopsis: you’ve known megumi, nobara, and yuuji since freshman year of high school, but it's only recently that you and megumi have started realizing that your feelings might run deeper than friendship (that is, if either of you have the courage to make the first move...) tags: megumi x f! reader, non-curse au, this might be from megumi's pov idk, friends to lovers, all fluff, all characters are about 17, reader is an older sibling, megumi being his usual reserved self, reader is more bubbly, definitely self-indulgent (reader is a sanrio lover), probably ooc but this is just for fun, no beta reader so let me know if there’s any errors cw: i don't think there are any? please let me know if you spot anything, i'll add it! wc. 5.9k posted: 22/10/23 a/n: i've been working on this fic forever and i didn't think i was going to post it at first tbh... most of my fics stay in the drafts but i spent a little more than 2 weeks on this so i thought why not. also, yes, i know you can't legally drive a car in japan at 17, but we will ignore that for the sake of the fic!

Megumi chewed his lower lip, feeling the weight of the necklace stored in the lower pocket of his black backpack.

He and Yuuji had stopped by a comic book store before school started at the latter’s insistence—Megumi had already stopped by yesterday and picked up the copy he’d wanted in secret, stashed underneath his pillow—so he’d split from Yuuji and made his way to the Hello Kitty Shibuya store a few feet down. He didn’t want his friend to see the romance mangas that he was interested in, and he’d already spent most of his allowance on the two copies he’d bought yesterday. He didn’t want to be tempted any more.

Stepping into the store, dressed in all black, heavy eye bags present, his hair unkempt and spiky, he must have frightened the employees, but they’d done their best to greet him with a cheery smile and welcomed him inside. Megumi had pulled down his snapback and wandered around, wondering what he was doing flipping through a rack of cinnamoroll earrings.

By the time he was at the front counter, ears red, using the last of his allowance to buy a pink heart-shaped necklace of My Melody, he was convinced that he was insane. It was the last one on the shelf and it was… expensive, to say the least. He almost put it back on the shelf after seeing the price, but he hesitated, your sweet smile flashing in his mind. To see you rave and gush about him buying this necklace for you, which was supposedly out of stock everywhere online… Well, he really wanted to see your smile.

The employees at the register giggled over his flushed expression and prodded him about who he was buying it for, when he would give it to you, if you were already his girlfriend or if you were just a friend. They wrapped it in a pink box with a white satin ribbon and he left the store with the tiny amount of dignity he had remaining, his ears brick red from dodging all their suggestive questions. 

He hardly remembers stuffing the box deep in his backpack, underneath a spare sweater he keeps in his bag, and rushing over to the manga store with his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly waiting for Yuuji outside as if he’d never left.

They’d walked to school together, chattering away: well, it was mostly just Yuuji talking. Megumi listened, but that was the way he preferred it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been labelled talkative. Even as a child, Gojo, his guardian, had complained about Megumi’s blunt and silent nature. Yuuji didn’t mind the silence—it just meant that he had a chance to talk. Nobara despised it—she was always rolling her eyes or pressing him about one thing or the other. When it came to you, you liked the comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, and even when you did, it was because you wanted to, not because of some awkwardness that you felt between the two of you. 

The two boys met up with you and Nobara, both of you bleary-eyed and early at school for once. 

The two of you had this awful habit of staying up late and talking on the phone to get your homework done and then waking up hours after school had started, practically missing your first period classes. 

Megumi and Yuuji used to wait outside the gate for you two in the beginning, but now they knew you too well and usually headed inside, talking at Megumi’s locker. On the off chance that one of you arrived on time, you knew exactly where to find them. 

“Where were you two?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with a confused scrunch of your brows. “We looked for you at your locker, but you weren’t there. Nobara and I actually got to school on time! Aren’t you proud?”

Despite your weariness, your makeup was always done to perfection, uniform ironed and straightened, hair silky and shining underneath the scorching sun, so Megumi always thought you looked good.

It was just recently that you had started looking beautiful instead of nice and seemed more funny than even his best friend, Yuuji.

“Megumi and I ran to the comic book store,” Yuuji said, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I got the one-hundred-fifteenth edition of Human Earthworm. Basically, in this edition, Worm Man falls in love with this woman, but there’s a catch! She’s also half-worm, but she’s a worm from the top half of her body and the bottom half—“

“Itadori,” Nobara barks. “It’s too early in the morning for your SuperWorm stories.”

Nobara glares at him, looking like she hadn’t even had time to do her makeup.

Yuuji peers at her. “You look kind of… sick.”

Nobara’s eyes flare with uncontrolled rage and she leaps on Yuuji’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist as she pulls at his pink hair. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Megumi sighs while Yuuji laughs and dodges Nobara’s advances. You just giggle, your arm brushing against Megumi’s, though he wonders if he’s the only one who notices the warmth of your skin on his.

The bell rings, startling them, and Nobara slowly unlatches herself from Yuuji. You bound over to her and fix her hair and she allows you patiently.

“Good?” she asks, checking her phone’s reflection.

“Good?” Yuuji mocks, patting down his own hair. 

“You both look hot,” you affirm, giggling at Nobara’s murderous look. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and check your phone. Your expression brightens as you glance over at Megumi. “Megs and I have Chem together first. We have a lab today, remember?”

He doesn’t return your smile, mostly because he’s starstruck at the sight, but nods slowly to let you know he’s heard.

Nobara groans. “Yuuji and I have Gym first,” she gripes.

You snort, flicking her cheek. “I don’t want to know why you would ever decide to take that class.”

“It’s not bad or hard,” she defends, but then she puts her fist up and grits her teeth. “But there’s this really stupid teacher who always picks on me for being a woman. He thinks I’m slower ‘cause I have a vagina and that makes me want to pull out his hair.”

“And he hates me because he always says I’m cheating during our run,” Yuuji complains. “It’s not my fault I’ve trained a lot!”

You laugh again before bouncing over to Megumi and wrapping a hand around his bicep. “Let’s go,” you insist. “We have to get the seat at the back before Miwa gets there again! Last time, she took my spot and she knows it’s my spot. I always sit there!”

You drag him with you, calling your goodbyes to a stunned Yuuji and Nobara, the two aware of how much Megumi hates physical touch. They wait, watching for their friend to remove your hand, but he never does. The two exchange nervous looks as they follow you through the front doors.

You’re sitting on a large boulder, your back to him, as you listen to Yuuji and Nobara’s insistent speech. He can almost imagine your confused look: your eyebrows scrunched, lips pouty.

The three of you haven’t spotted him yet, nonchalantly strolling towards you, hands tucked in his pocket, but even at this distance he can hear what the pair are telling you.

“You cannot touch Megumi,” Nobara insists. “He hates being touched.”

“The last time I tried to hug him, he squeezed my wrist so hard I thought it’d break,” Yuuji points out, cradling his arm. “He hates physical touch.”

Megumi sighs and rolls his eyes. 

Just when he’d started getting close to someone, his cursed friends had to interfere. Even if their intentions are in the right place, can’t they mind their own business? He isn’t exactly the people-pleasing type: if he’s letting you touch him, it’s on purpose. 

Both Nobara and Yuuji share exactly one brain cell, he thinks. 

“Oh… really?” Is he imagining the hint of disappointment in your tone? “Ah, I didn’t know. Okay… I’ll try to keep my distance from now on. Thanks for telling me.”

“What are you three talking about?” he asks, stopping at your back.

You still as his leg brushes against your back. You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes with a tentative smile. He’s awestruck all over again, like every time you flash him that smile. 

“You,” Nobara answers truthfully, taking his attention off of you. 

Yuuji elbows her and laughs awkwardly. “She’s kidding. W-we were talking about Human Earthworm 5! Yeah, Human Earthworm. Obviously. I told them we should go see the fifth—“

You roll your eyes, watching him take a large step over the boulder to stand next to Yuuji. “I don’t know why they’re lying. We were just talking about where to go for lunch. Yesterday, Nobara and I got to pick and we went out for sushi, remember? We thought you guys might have a preference today.”

“That’s what we were talking about,” Yuuji affirms quickly with a painfully bright smile. Megumi isn’t so awestruck at the sight. 

There’s a collective moment of silence; they’re all holding their breath, waiting for his answer. 

He looks at you. You give him an innocent smile, blinking, and he finds it slightly frightening how easily you can lie to his face like that.

“Okay.” Megumi shrugs, accepting your words. “I’m in the mood for tteokbokki,” he says, despite his lack of allowance, if only to change the topic. He remembers Yuuji salivating over the thought of the street food yesterday in Math class, even after lunch. 

“There’s a place near here that has corn dogs and tteokbokki,” Nobara mentions, checking the Maps app on her phone. “It’s a five minute walk.”

“I want tteokbokki with a boiled egg,” Yuuji announces eagerly. 

“Tteokbokki is best with egg,” Nobara agrees. “Wanna share?”

“I want the whole egg,” Yuuji warns.

“You can spare me half,” she insists. “I want it too!”

“If we want to go, then we should go now,” you interrupt. “We only have thirty minutes left.”

Both Nobara and Yuuji start bickering over their order and you take that chance to sneak a quick glance at your phone, frowning at the recurring texts you’ve been receiving. 

Megumi looks to you, eyes catching onto the worried crease between your eyebrows. You put away your phone at his watchful gaze.

“Sorry,” you say, feigning a smile. “Let’s go.”

He nods, wondering if he should ask you why you had that concerned look in your eyes. But Megumi isn’t good at words; he always stumbles and trips over them and can never quite get his thoughts out properly, unlike you. He’s always admired the eloquent and seemingly veritable way you speak, even when you lie. You’re always able to put on a mask. 

He’s not so good with words, so in a rare display of bravery, he resorts to offering you his hand, as if extending his heart to you. His ears turn red as he looks away from you, realizing that Yuuji and Nobara have stopped arguing long enough to watch. 

You blink uncertainly, then beam up at him and take his hand. 

Your hand is warm in his and much much softer than the callouses that roughen his. Often, you offer him hand lotion in Chemistry and he hasn’t the heart to refuse you. You squeeze a dollop of the rose-scented cream in his hand before doing the same on your own. He gets the pleasure of watching you beam as the two of you rub the lotion into your palms. As a result of your generosity, his hands have been feeling softer than usual.

You thank him for the gesture and he just shrugs, bumping shoulders with you as you enter the address into your Maps app, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere in the air. 

“We can get two eggs,” Nobara attempts, to break the tension. 

Yuuji agrees immediately with no argument. 

The jewelry box feels especially heavy in Megumi’s bag.

When the three of you reach the restaurant, Yuuji and Nobara immediately fight over who’s paying for the extra eggs. Nobara insists that it should be Yuuji who pays because he should be the one paying penance, while Yuuji wants to split the cost in half. The two of them bicker a little more, embarrassing you and Megumi in front of the cashier before they place their order, and then continue to do so while taking a seat at a table for four.

You just sigh and muster your brightest smile to make up your friends. Megumi hovers closely behind you as you place your order, feeling slightly protective of you in front of the handsome male noting your order. 

The man is tall, maybe taller than Megumi himself, and he has this air of easiness that Megumi instantly dislikes. What, with his eager grins and frequent winks sent your way, it’s clear that he just can’t—won’t—take a hint. His name tag reads Haru, which has many many meanings, but the one Megumi decides on is sun. He’s overwhelmingly sunny, much like Yuuji. But while Yuuji’s is a natural sunniness, a disposition that comes easily to him, Haru has this overbearing nature, like when he leans over the register to take your cash and purposely lets your fingers brush his. He has these charming chocolate-coloured curls and he keeps brushing them out of his big, dark eyes. Even through his instant dislike, Megumi can’t help comparing himself to the man.

He keeps wondering: Is this your type? Would you be interested in someone like this, so sunny and bright, almost as much as you are?

“A mozzarella corn dog with cinnamon sugar and the small tteokbokki, no egg,” you’re confirming, cutting through the jealous haze that is his thoughts. You glance back at him, finally taking his attention off of Haru. “Want anything?”

“Naah, I ate earlier,” he says with a shake of his head, sidling closer so that your back brushes against his chest. You startle slightly, but don’t move away. Haru’s smile falters a little. Megumi wants to stick his tongue out at him petulantly like a little kid who’s just won a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

Somehow, Megumi can tell you see through his lie, likely because you’ve been with him for almost the entire day, but you don’t argue and he quickly pulls out his phone and distracts himself with the Weather app so that you won’t suspect him further. 

A forecast of rain, he notices, startling. 

He usually stores an umbrella or two in his bag because he knows you never bring one—it doesn’t rain as often as you’d like, but even when it does, you enjoy the water soaking you to the bone. Megumi usually watches you, Nobara, and Yuuji splash in puddles, his black umbrella already opened up to keep him dry. When the three of you get tired or cold, you can count on him to lend you one, and you often plaster yourself to his side, getting his clothes wet as your teeth chatter underneath the umbrella. 

His fond expression breaks when you nudge his shoulder and the two of you make your way to the table where your friends are already seated, Nobara sitting cross-legged on the seat to face Yuuji, hands waving about animatedly. 

“You know, you were checking that guy out for an awfully long time,” you tease with a cheeky smile.

Megumi’s mind doesn’t put two and two together. In fact, he feels like it might be short-circuiting. “What?”

None of what you’re saying makes sense to him—isn’t it so obvious that he’s interested in you? 

“You know, Megs, if you’re gay, you just have to tell me,” you say solemnly, trying not to let your face crack. “I’m sure Nobara and Yuuji will also support you. Nobara likes girls, and, besides, that’s what friends are for. We’re here for you, even if you’re into the douchey cashier.”

“You thought he was douchey?” he blurts, the only thing that his brain seems to process. 

“So, you are gay!” you exclaim, slapping your receipt onto the table where Nobara and Yuuji are sitting. They jump at the thump sound the receipt makes on the table, their conversation interrupted. 

“Fushigoru’s gay?” Nobara asks skeptically with a raised brow as she turns around to face the two of you. An amused smile plays on her mouth. “I knew it. I called it first!”

“I said it first!” Yuuji protests. “Remember when he punched Kai in the face and I said that he did it because he thought his was was just too pretty to—“

“I’m not gay,” Megumi snaps, cheeks on fire. “And I don’t like Kai!”

You stifle a giggle, sliding your receipt in Nobara’s direction. “I got a corndog and tteokbokki. We can share.”

Nobara scans the receipt with a raised brow, letting Yuuji read off her shoulder. “Another phone number?” she teases slyly. 

“What?” you and Megumi blurt at the same time. 

Megumi snatches the receipt from her freshly-manicured nails and his eyes widen in horror at the series of numbers that are, indeed, printed at the bottom in black pen next to a winky emoji. Beside him, you cringe and Megumi crushes it up in his palm and shoves it into his pocket. 

He raises a brow, sliding into the booth, and asks, “Did you want that?”

You shake your head almost immediately and follow after him, sitting across from Nobara. She taps the side of your sneaker with her own and you look her way long enough to see a mischievous glint enter her eyes. 

“You’ve just been collecting phone numbers left and right, haven’t you?” Nobara sings, wiggling her brows at you to break the silence. “Quite the player, aren’t you?”

���This is the first number I’ve gotten all year,” you protest, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You know that—you guys are always with me!”

“What about the guy at the vending machine yesterday?” Yuuji asks.

“Kai?” you ask in disbelief. “He’s not—We aren’t—”

Megumi blurts, “Kai asked you out yesterday?”

You groan aloud, burying your face in your hands. “No, he didn’t! He just expressed his interest. I told him I didn’t like him and we left it at that.”

And here Megumi was thinking that the guy had learned his lesson—It was true that Megumi had punched him in the face, but not for the reasons that Yuuji predicted. If Yuuji had truly heard what Kai had said about you, he wouldn’t be nearly as lax with his teasing remarks. And, fine, it was true—Kai did have somewhat of a pretty face and Megumi did have this tiny inkling that Kai had feelings for you, but he’d done his best to ignore that small, jealous whisper and tuck it aside. He never imagined that Kai would act on his feelings.

Maybe Megumi hadn’t punched him hard enough. 

Megumi removes his snapback and places it on the table, rubbing the material between his fingertips to soothe the burning in his chest. 

Yuuji raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his mouth. He looks like he’s about to make another unnecessary comment, but he’s interrupted by Haru, the cashier, serving them their lunch on a long, silver tray. 

You make eye contact with him and suddenly regret your decision to sit on the outside of the booth when he smiles at you for long moments while serving, explaining each and every dish with precise detail to you and only you. He flatly ignores your friends and keeps his eyes locked onto you, even while serving—you’re half afraid he might drop something that way. On the positive side, he knows exactly what he’s talking about—each dish, each flavour, each part is explained down to a T. 

You know more about canned Coca-Cola now than you ever have in your entire life. Who knew that the drink used to contain cocaine before 1929? Not you. But you’re thinking you could use some right now to get out of this awkward situation.

On the negative side—Yuuji is stifling his laugh, Nobara looks like she might explode any moment now, and Megumi… Megumi is glaring daggers at the man who ignores the icy look and continues his long-winded speech. 

You break eye contact and try not to roll your eyes as you lock gazes with Yuuji across the table. He gives you a knowing look, pressing his trembling lips together to hold in the laughter that dances in his eyes. 

He seems to be saying this is all your fault. 

You just sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll pay for your eggs," is what you mouth back at him. 

Yuuji’s smile widens and he makes out, “Deal!”, right back at you. 

Haru has only just moved on to explaining how tteokbokki is made in their kitchen when Megumi tucks his black snapback onto your head, bringing it down to cover your view. He opens his mouth to argue but is interrupted by Nobara who snaps, “I think we know what we ordered. And Chef doesn’t seem like it’s part of your job description.”

The silence that befalls the restaurant makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. You sigh and cover your face with your hands, wishing a hole would appear in the floor so you could crawl into it, roll around, and just die. 

Megumi is not sure whether to feel grateful to Nobara for speaking up or annoyed because he was going to say something first. 

Haru mumbles, “It’s not. I’m a server.”

“I think we can handle it from here,” Yuuji coughs awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath, nudging Megumi with your knee. 

“Thanks,” Megumi repeats tersely, unpleasantly reminded of the existence of social etiquette. 

“Men take a hint,” Nobara mutters, glaring at Haru’s retreating back. “Level: impossible.”

You snort under a breath and point a set of packaged chopsticks at her. “And you made fun of me for rejecting Kai. He also wouldn’t take a hint and was incredibly insistent—I mean, what kind of guy waits outside of class for you every. single. day. after you reject him?”

Nobara slides her tteokbokki in her direction, seeing as how all of the dishes are placed in a spot advantageous to you. You give both her and Yuuji a pair of chopsticks, then push Megumi’s smaller tteokbokki dish towards him. 

“Megumi and I wait outside your classes for you,” Yuuji points out, breaking apart his chopsticks with a skeptical eyebrow raised. 

Indeed, Megumi is frozen, awaiting your response with bated breath. 

Do you find him creepy or weird when he waits for you? He’d always thought you might appreciate having someone to walk to your classes and chatter with, especially when Nobara isn’t around. He hadn’t considered the fact that you might think of him as a creep…

“You and Megumi don’t count,” you insist, glancing at him with your brows furrowed. “We’re friends. It’s different. Kai would bring me a different flavoured chocolate each day and deliberately hand it out in front of a group of guys that are known to gossip. He’d make these stupid comments, put his hand on my shoulder, and act like we were dating.”

You unwrap a set of chopsticks, snap them in half and offer them to Megumi who takes them with a troubled look. 

“Stop it,” you argue, nudging his leg with yours. “I already told you: I’m uncomfortable when Kai does it. You guys are my friends—it’s not any different than when Nobara waits for me.”

“Preach,” Nobara says solemnly, shoving another rice cake in her mouth. Yuuji startles and protests at the fact that he’s been too busy conversing with you to even have a bite, but Nobara just sticks her tongue out at him petulantly. 

So now he’s being compared to Nobara, Megumi sulks. He’s not sure which is worse—being likened to a creep or to Nobara. 

You nudge him with your elbow this time, shooting him an effortless smile. “Come on, cut out the whole protective older brother thing. I can see it in your face. Nothing happened, Megs.”

Megumi starts, then just nods, though he hadn’t been thinking of Haru. Unfortunately, your words do nothing to ease his mind. 

Now you’re referring to him as your older brother… He can’t say he’s not used to it, but… he doesn’t want to be your older brother, nor does he want to act like one.

Nobara smirks. “Yeah, Megs, listen to your—”

He kicks her shin from across the table and her eyes blow wide. “Hey! You didn’t do anything when…” Nobara’s train of thought is cut off when Yuuji elbows her. She settles for glaring at Megumi with a look that says I’ll get you back. 

Megumi looks indifferent to her nonverbal threat as he takes the first bite from his meal. Seeing him eat spurs you into action and you open up the container with your mozzarella corn dog.

He knows you see Nobara as a fun, sister-like figure: someone you can laugh with, go shopping with, and call whenever you need advice, gossip, or a pick-me-up. With Nobara, your time flies by in seconds, the two of you always busy giggling and laughing on FaceTime. 

You see Yuuji as a younger brother: someone to indulge and take care of, especially because Megumi doesn’t humour him and Nobara bickers with him day and night, much like a sibling would. You ruffle his hair when you’re pleased with him, making him beam, and you graciously tag along to the movie theater with him when a new Human Earthworm movie is released, since he and Nobara staunchly refuse whenever Yuuji pleads. 

So, maybe Megumi’s role has been predetermined from the start. He’s always been overprotective of his friends and he nags like a mother hen, especially when it comes to you. Whenever you text him that you’re going out, accompanied with a few pictures, asking him what to wear, he always makes sure that you have your location on, your ringer on, that you aren’t on silent mode, or you haven’t muted his texts. He makes sure he knows exactly where you’re going, when you’ll be back; he makes sure his phone is always nearby so he never misses a text from you, in the rare case that you might message him to pick you up. After all, he is your group’s designated driver. He figures you might need him once in a while. 

He chews his rice cakes slowly, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. He glances over at you, busy in conversation. The three of you are used to his frequent silence; you don’t take it as odd anymore, nor do you press for him to join the conversation. You all know he’ll speak up when he wants to. 

Is he overbearing? 

Actually… he’s not unlike you, in that sense. 

You’re the first to remind Yuuji, as always, that he’s left his phone in Megumi’s car, or his books in the classroom, or that his hoodie is in his locker, as always, but you’d picked it up for him because you knew he’d forget. Before he can even tell you that he’s lost his pencil for the third time this week, you’re pressing one into his hands with a skeptical eyebrow raise that asks, anything else? He’s like a little puppy that you look after when no one else will. 

With Nobara, he’s seen you often calling her when she’s alone in a taxi and she texts you that the driver is being weird. You stay on call with her, purposely raising your voice loud enough for the driver to hear you ask repeatedly, “Where are you? When are you getting here? We’re all waiting for you.” You always wait on her text that tells you she’s reached home safe before your shoulders loosen and you feel some of the tension leave you. 

Before Megumi goes out, you’re over at his house, fussing over his clothes (the same ones he wore a day ago), his hair (that never seems to settle, no matter how much gel or hairspray you use), his face. You pinch his cheeks, tell him to go wash his face again because he still looks half-asleep, toss him a rose-scented lotion tube, straight from your bag, and insist that he keep it. You completely baby him. 

And when the four of you go out for lunch, more often than not, it’s you who orders for the rest of them, Megumi tagging along sometimes, if only to insist on paying. You half-listen to their conversation, half-wonder when the food will arrive. And when it finally does, you’re the first to urge them to start: handing them their utensils, breaking apart their chopsticks, and reminding them to eat well. 

You’re used to looking after others and putting their needs before your own, as the eldest daughter of your family. Megumi is overprotective as well, but he’s also hyper-independent, used to caring for himself without anyone else. Around you, he always finds his demeanor molding, softening—he acts more spoiled, more sulky, almost as if he’s trying to catch your attention, to make you fuss over him. And you do. You always indulge him, though he’s sure you can see right through his act. 

You’re laughing at something Yuuji says when you notice him looking at you, as if he’s seeing you in a new light. You hold your corn dog up to him, a sweet smile on your face.

Megumi blinks, ears reddening, as he shakes his head. “N-no, I wasn’t—“

“Have some. It’s good,” you insist, and he can’t refuse you.

So he leans forward in his seat, his thigh brushing against yours—he shouldn’t feel so flustered by that action, right? But you’re still wearing his snapback on your head and it looks ridiculous on you, oversized and just barely hanging onto your head. 

Sharing clothes or accessories isn’t new between the two of you either, nor are brief touches like his leg against yours. For some reason, he’s starting to feel hyper-aware of his every movement around you in a way that he doesn’t feel around Nobara, or even Yuuji. 

Often, when the four of you have sleepovers or movie nights, typically held at Megumi’s house (he’s always playing host, but he’s grateful that you help out by always arriving an hour earlier with bags of snacks. Gojo adores you for that reason alone), you don’t shy away from physical touch. You’ve fallen asleep on his arm more times than he can count, laid your legs in Yuuji’s lap while the four of you argue over which movie to watch, and squeezed Nobara’s hand throughout countless horror movies. 

And yet… Your thighs brushing through your jeans as he leans close is somehow the most intimate feeling he’s had since his kindergarten crush had hugged him tight on the playground in front of his friends. 

You hold your corn dog up to his mouth and he takes a bite, relishing in the stretch of mozzarella as you pull the snack away from him with a laugh. He keeps his eyes locked on your lit smile, unaware of Yuuji and Nobara’s troubled gaze trained on him.

You’re like the sun; wherever you go, you shine so bright, making him want to reflect you: he can’t help smiling back. 

Sharing food has never been a big deal between the four of you—well, three of you. Before you had found them and became involved in their little friend group, Megumi used to firmly refuse to drink from the same bottle as Nobara or eat from the same spoon as Yuuji, on account of “hygiene”, he claimed. Then you’d stumbled and tripped right into their world and the easy way you’d steal Yuuji’s gatorade from right under his nose and take a sip or share a bite of the cake pop you’d brought for lunch with Nobara had been enough to make him loosen up too, just enough. Eventually, he’d forgotten about that little rule, all because of you, with no shortage of teasing from Yuuji and Nobara.

He drinks from the same glass as you when you’re over at his house, and when you find yourself parched at school, he’s the first to offer to run to the convenience store and back in time for your first period class, Chemistry, which you share with him. The two of you often pass the drink back and forth in class and he tosses it out afterwards when you walk out together, complaining about the homework or the in-class lesson. 

Although, he wonders absentmindedly, if you’re eating from the same spoon as him or sipping from the same can from him, can that be counted as… an indirect kiss?

His eyes are inexplicably drawn to your glossy lips as you beam at him and put together a string of words that flies right over his head. What if he leaned forward, just a little? The sparkles on your lips are illuminated by the warm lighting of the restaurant and he finds himself musing about the flavour of your gloss. 

Cherry, perhaps? He’d like cherry. Or even strawberry might be nice, sweet and sugary, he thinks. Anything would do, if it was you. 

You call his name again, snapping him out of his daze, and he stammers, “W-what?”

You giggle, tucking his snapback onto his head and covering his face. Why doesn’t he have a voice recording of that precious laugh of yours? “Idiot. I was asking if it was good!”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it’s great,” he mumbles dazedly with no idea of what you’re talking about as he adjusts his hat.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog in his head as you wait expectantly, ignoring Yuuji and Nobara’s snickers in the background. 

“I-it was really good. The corn dog, I mean,” he clarifies, gaze dipping to your lips again. “I liked it. But… Lunch is on me next time.”

You snort, looking satisfied with his answer. “Lunch is always on you. Pigs won’t start flying if you let me pay for your meal once.”

Megumi has what you call textbook manners when it comes to things like this; he’s overly stiff, overly formal. He can’t remember the last time he’d let any of you pay for him without returning the favour. It’s more than just a matter of his pride and ego (though that certainly plays a hand.) It’s the fact that he can’t fathom depending on any of you like that. He can’t accept this level of warmth or care without his mind whispering that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll all leave, just like his father, just like his mother. 

He exhales deeply and pops open the can of Coca-Cola that you bought him. The bubbles hiss and fizzle before settling down. As soon as they do, he slides the can towards you with a jerk of his head: an order to take the first sip. 

You give him an indulgent smile and follow his instructions, leaving behind a mauve stain on the can. Then, you push the can towards him with the same head jerk motion that he gave you. He resists the temptation of giving in to your antics and smiling as a result. 

You’re messing with his head, he groans silently. He’s never going to be the same after this. More than that, he thinks, glancing towards Nobara and Yuuji who observe him with matching knowing looks, the two of them are never going to let him live this down. 

Maybe you don't know it yet, but Megumi is yours.

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